Archive of Our Own

Tim was used to the smells and sounds of hospitals—the sharp and sterile air, the hum of machines, the rattling wheels of gurneys. He sidestepped one coming down the corridor, carrying a pale woman with a bandage around her head. Nurse Emilia, striding alongside the woman, spotted him and gave him a quick smile.

"She's been asking for you all day. She'll be so happy you're here," Emilia said, before disappearing around the corner.

He adjusted his bag strap and walked to the door next to the vending machine. Taking a deep breath, he turned the knob and went inside.

The curtains were open, sunlight streaming onto the hospital bed. Dana lay facing the window. Tim couldn't suppress a smile.

"Hey."

She turned over, eyes going wide. "Tim! You're—oh, come here, you."

He dragged a chair next to the bed and let Dana run her hands through his hair, palms coming to rest on his cheeks. It had been so long. Years since the gang war had sent her into a coma, and even longer since they'd had a quiet moment together like this. He took one of her hands in his, giving it a squeeze.

"You're so big," she murmured. "They told me it's been years, but I didn't believe it until now."

"You only woke up last week. Give yourself time to adjust."

"And so mature, too," she said, smiling. "But I guess that's always been true. How have you been? I hope it hasn't been too hard without me or—your dad..."

"It's been fine," Tim said hastily. That was a wound they didn't need to dig up. Not today. "I don't know if the nurses told you, but I've actually been, uh, adopted. By Bruce Wayne."

"Bruce Wayne! They did mention something like that, but I can't quite wrap my head around it. It's like a fairy tale."

"It's not all that great. Lots and lots of paparazzi, for one. And too many annoying siblings to count."

Dana laughed. "You've got to tell me about them. But first, tell me about you. What are you up to? Are you in college? Studying something very smart, I bet."

"Oh, um. I'm not. I didn't... it wasn't the path for me. I was briefly the CEO of Wayne Enterprises, though. Not that I did anything, but I had the title for a few glorious days."

"You've had a lot of adventures these past few years, haven't you?"

"I'll have even more now that you're awake."

Her eyes crinkled. "I can't wait to get out of this bed, Tim. I know it'll be a while—I guess I'll need my own physiotherapist. It's strange being the patient for once. But I guess my brain isn't quite up to scratch yet, since there are still things I don't—quite remember."

"We'll figure it out, Dana. Together."

"Ever the charmer," she said, pinching his cheek. A gleam of amusement passed through her eyes. "Which reminds me—any girls I should know about?"

"Girls?" Tim's throat clogged up. He'd thought about this exact question a million times on the ride over, but he still hadn't come up with anything to say.

"Oh!" Dana's hands flew to her mouth. "I'm so sorry, Tim. I forgot about Stephanie. I didn't mean to dredge all that up for you..."

"No, it's okay!" He pounced on the change in topic. "Steph's alive, Dana. She didn't actually die. Well, it was a whole thing, but she's here again."

"She is? Wow, that's—I'm so happy to hear that."

There was a rapping at the door, and Emilia peeked in. "Sorry to interrupt, but it's time for you to get some rest, Dana."

"But—"

"I'll come back soon," Tim said, standing up. "And next time, I promise to catch you up on everything."

Dana smiled. "I'll hold you to that."

He gave her hand one last squeeze before exiting the room.

****

The sun was setting by the time he got to the marina, casting an orange glow on the water. Tim spent a minute staring out at the horizon, a distant boat bobbing up and down on the waves.

He'd have to start jotting down everything that had happened the last few years. Where to start? There was that parade of funerals, Dad and Stephanie and Conner, capped off with Bruce himself. That feeling of seeing Damian in the suit that he still couldn't shake, then Red Robin, the bad times and the good. Universe shenanigans and world-ending disasters and a Joker attack or twenty. Then being Robin again and this new status quo, quiet and steady like that distant boat. A few ups and downs, of course, but the sea was calm and the sky was beautiful.

"Whatcha looking at?"

Speaking of beautiful...

"What are you doing here?" he said, as a pair of (very strong) arms wrapped around him. "We still have half an hour before the reservation."

"I missed you too much to wait any longer," Bernard said, giving him a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

Tim grinned. "Come inside before we get more complaints about PDA."

He grabbed Bernard by the hand and led him into his boat house, kicking off his shoes before pulling them both onto the couch. Bernard cuddled into Tim's side, laying his head on Tim's shoulder.

"How'd the exam go?" Tim asked.

"Terrible. Thank god for the curve, otherwise there's no way I'm passing this class."

"Give yourself some credit, you've been studying your butt off. I'm sure you did great."

"Says the genius. Seriously, if you'd just agree to wear a blond wig, I think the professors wouldn't notice the difference."

"That's against the academic code of conduct, Bernard."

"Do you know how much I love when you talk rules to me?"

"Shut up," Tim said, laughing.

His cheek was still tingling from the warmth of Bernard's kiss. If he tried hard enough, he could collapse all the changes in his life into just this moment, into just the way Bernard's fingers slotted into his. Maybe everything was worth it, if it led to this.

"Hey," Bernard said. "How's your step-mom?"

"Great. She's not one hundred percent yet, but they didn't even think she'd wake up, so all things considered we're really lucky. I—I missed her more than I realised."

"I told you, didn't I? You're a good luck charm. Things go right when you're around."

"I wouldn't exactly say that."

"Well, I would." Bernard leaned forward. "Tell me what she's like! I only got to meet her that one time, years ago, but she seemed nice."

"You mean that time you called her hot?"

He turned scarlet. "I was going through a severe case of heteronormativity, okay? Don't change the subject."

"Okay, okay. She is nice. We didn't know each other for that long in the grand scheme of things, but she's always been great to me. And she put up with Dad, which is a feat in itself."

"I'd love to meet her again. I bet she never even thought of me becoming your boyfriend."

"Oh, um. I don't—I'm not out to her yet." He tacked on, after a second, "sorry."

"Don't be silly," Bernard said, touching his forehead to Tim's. "I get it. Coming out is a process every time, and you've just gotten her back."

"I don't—it's not that I'm ashamed of you or anything."

"I know. You told Bruce Wayne about me, so take your own time with this, okay? I really don't mind."

"And I really like you," Tim said. "You know that?"

"It doesn't hurt to hear it again."

So Tim kissed him. It was easy with Bernard—as simple as leaning forward and taking what he wanted, what they both wanted. Bernard tugged Tim closer as he deepened the kiss, and by the time they broke apart they were both out of breath.

"Man," Bernard said. "I don't think I'll ever get used to that."

"We've been dating for almost a year, Bern."

"10 months and 9 days, to be exact."

"Nerd."

"You of all people can't call me that," Bernard said, snorting.

Tim took one of Bernard's hands and traced a pattern on his palm. "Y'know, since we've been dating for a while... I know you haven't met much of my—family."

"I told you, I get it. It's not like my parents have been particularly welcoming of you."

"Your parents—" Tim cut himself off before his anger could spill over. "That's beside the point. I want you to meet my family. Since we—since this is probably going to last a long time."

An adorable red dusted Bernard's cheeks. "I'm down if you're down. I've always wanted to know your siblings better. And Stephanie, too. She was so cool for the few seconds I got to meet her."

"You—really want to hang out with her?"

"You'd rather me be jealous?" Bernard smiled. "I know she's a big part of your life. I don't want to get in the way of that, even if she is your ex."

"God. I don't deserve you at all."

"Are you kidding? It's me who's living the dream." Bernard got off the couch, keeping his fingers intertwined with Tim's. "Now c'mon, or we're gonna be late."

"Lead the way," Tim said.

****

Tim pulled up the driveway and hopped out of the car. Pennyworth Manor sparkled in the morning sun, the windows bright and shimmering. He went through the front door and was immediately smacked in the face with a frisbee.

"Drake!" Damian. Of course. "You always have the worst timing."

"I don't think this is on me," Tim said, rubbing his nose. "Shouldn't you be flinging that thing outdoors?"

"I was testing the weight. Thomas said it's important."

"It is," called a voice from upstairs. Duke's head peeped over the railing of the balcony. "Hey, Tim. Emergency?"

"Just dropping by to see Bruce," Tim said. "Is he around?"

"Father's at a business meeting," Damian said, stooping to pick up the frisbee. Tim kicked it out of his reach. Damian looked up with a glare.

"What?" Tim said, blinking innocently.

"Do not test me, Drake."

"You'd better listen to him," Duke said, coming down the stairs. "We ran out of hot pockets yesterday. It's been hard for us all."

"And whose fault was that, Thomas?"

"I said I was sorry!"

"That doesn't change how you gorged yourself on my hot pocket."

"Okay, I did not gorge, I ate it in a very normal manner. And I said I'd buy you four more, didn't I?"

Damian folded his arms. "Where is it then?"

"Hm. Well." Duke turned to Tim with a bright smile. "Have I ever said how much I admire you, Tim? And how everyone is totally wrong about your awesome haircut?"

"No, actually, you haven't."

"Well, I do. You're so kind, and how you always take care of us, even when it costs a few measly dollars..."

Tim sighed. "Get in the car."

And that's how he ended up buying 10 boxes of hot pockets at 7-11, microwaving 3 of them in the store. They sat at an outdoor picnic table and munched on the overprocessed and slightly undercooked turnovers.

"So," Tim said, putting down the wrapper. "How have you two been? How's school?"

Duke and Damian stopped chewing to stare at him.

"What?"

"Since when do you start conversations like normal people?" Duke asked.

"Since when do you care how I've been doing?" Damian asked.

"I've never not cared how you've been doing. Is it really that weird to ask my little brothers how they are?"

"Little brothers?" Damian's eyes narrowed. "You want something."

"I do not."

"You do so," Duke chimed in, around a huge mouthful of hot pocket.

"Duke, that's gross." Tim sighed. "Fine. It's not a big deal, just... I'd like you two to meet Bernard sometime."

"I already met him. We saved you from that cult."

"I mean outside of your hero identities," Tim said. "He didn't know you guys were my family. I want him to meet you properly."

Duke raised an eyebrow. "You're serious about him, huh?"

"Yeah," Tim said, his cheeks heating up.

"So you are going to tell about Robin?"

"Well, I—that'll come later, Damian."

"Hm." Damian swallowed the last of the hot pocket. "Thomas says the most important thing in a relationship is honesty."

"I do say that," Duke said, nodding sagely.

Tim's eye twitched. "I didn't ask for relationship advice. I'm certainly not taking any from two teenagers. Do you want to meet him or not?"

"Sure," Duke said, inclining his head towards the boxes of hot pockets. "Assuming you have more where that came from?"

"You could just ask Bruce!"

"Father mustn't be bothered by such trivial requests," Damian said, eyeing Duke's hot pocket. Duke held it out for him to take a bite.

"And yet you can bother me."

"Exactly," Duke said cheerfully.

"This is the last time you extort me, alright?" Tim ran a hand through his hair. "Geez. And I thought asking Steph to meet Bernard would be hardest."

Duke choked. "You're asking Stephanie?"

"Uh, yeah?"

"Dude. You're asking your ex to hang out with your new boyfriend?"

"Steph's cool with Bernard. They've already met, and they both like each other."

"If you say so," Duke said dubiously.

Tim rolled his eyes. It's not like Duke knew Stephanie that well—really, nobody knew her as well as Tim did. Well, except Cass, but they were just best friends. He and Stephanie had been more than that for a long time.

"Brown will be fine," Damian said, waving his hand. Tim was oddly touched that Damian was siding with him over Duke, until: "She has moved on to better prospects than Drake."

"Hey! That's—" Tim blinked. "Better prospects?"

"They haven't sealed the deal yet," Duke said.

"They are as good as sealed, Thomas. You've seen the way they look at each other. Even Father has noticed, though he is trying his best to pretend he hasn't."

"Noticed what?"

For the second time, Damian and Duke turned to stare at Tim.

"You're joking," Duke said. "You're telling me you haven't noticed anything?"

"Could you just tell me what we're talking about?"

"Brown and Cain," Damian said. "Surely you know they are in love with each other."

"Brown and—Steph and Cassandra?"

Tim gaped. This must be a joke. If Stephanie and Cass liked each other, he definitely would've noticed. Besides, the very concept—Stephanie and Cassandra—didn't make sense. Just because they were best friends, and spent almost all of their time together, and always went to each other in any room they were in, and lived together...

Oh.

Oh god.

"Oh my god, you really didn't know," Duke said.

"Leave it to Drake to miss something even Todd has noticed."

"Jason?" Tim's voice climbed to a pitch he didn't even know he could reach. "Jason knows about them?"

"He has eyes," Duke said drily.

"But it just—I mean—" Tim's brain wasn't functioning right. It wasn't like there was anything wrong with Stephanie and Cass getting together. He wanted nothing more than for them to be happy, especially Stephanie. It was just so sudden. And why hadn't he noticed? Why hadn't either of them told him about their feelings?

He shot up from the bench, staggering a little as his knee hit the corner of the picnic table.

"I, uh, should get going. Let Bruce know I'm working the Hartford case for the rest of the week, if he wants in."

"Sure," Duke said.

He exchanged a look with Damian as Tim turned and left.

****

The moon hung full and bright over Gotham. Tim crouched under a water tank as a patch of shadow bobbed over the rooftops, coming closer and closer. He stepped out from the tank as Batgirl leapt onto his roof.

"Cassie," he said, waving.

She waved back, not at all surprised at his presence. "Robin."

"Got a sec?"

"A few," she said, settling on the edge of the roof. He sat down next to her.

"We haven't caught up since your trip. How'd it go?"

"Bad," Cass said, never one to mince words. "Glad to be back."

"Yeah. I missed you."

"Missed you too. Gotham is... boring without me, isn't it?"

"Absolutely. While you were out trekking the mountains and discovering secret blood powers, I was just doing the same old thing as same old Robin."

"Don't have those powers anymore." The fabric of her mask shifted, meaning she was smiling. "And you love being Robin."

"As much as you love being Batgirl. It's funny how we ended up as Batgirl and Robin again, huh? After all these years?"

"It's... where we belong."

"A lot of my life is actually going back to the way it was. My step-mom woke up from her coma—Dana, you remember her? I'll bring you to visit sometime."

"Can't wait," Cass said warmly. "You said she was nice."

"She is. Only thing is I have to figure out how to come out to her. I'm sure she'll be fine with it, but it's still so—you know." Tim swallowed. "Speaking of coming out, I—uh—I feel like we haven't gotten to talk much recently. I just want you to know you can still talk to me about anything. Whatever you're feeling, like about your life, or stuff with Bruce. Or... Stephanie."

She tilted her head. "What are you asking?"

"Nothing. Um. I forgot."

Cass' lenses narrowed and Tim cursed himself. His first mistake was bringing Stephanie up unprompted, and his second mistake was lying to walking lie detector Cassandra Cain.

"You're thinking of something. Something about Stephanie." She grabbed his arm, shaking him. "Tell me."

"It's nothing, Cass, really."

"Something wrong? Is she hurt?"

"No, it's nothing like that. Promise," he said, extricating himself. "It's not important."

"It is. You look..."

Tim turned away. He loved Cass, he really did, but he couldn't stand when she read him like that.

"Okay," he said, staring at the rushing cars below. "I was hanging out with Damian and Duke the other day, and they mentioned that you—you and Stephanie... that you might have feelings for her."

"I do."

Tim whipped his head around. "You're just admitting that?"

"Yes." Cass shrugged. "Barbara noticed ages ago. Helped me come to terms with it."

"Oh."

"That's what you wanted to ask?"

"Yeah, I mean, I thought you might need to talk about it." Tim rubbed the back of his neck. "But if you're fine, then—"

"No." Cass blushed. "I mean... I'm okay with liking her. But I wanted to... ask you..."

"What?"

It was her turn to look away. "You know her. Do you think she... likes me...?"

"I don't know." Tim fiddled with his cape. "It's possible, but I haven't noticed anything."

Cass deflated, and Tim wondered why on earth he hadn't just said yes.

It was all so terribly awkward. The stars above were terribly bright, too, like they'd been on his first date with Stephanie. He remembered how they'd swung together that night, in the park. How his love for her had sat fluttering in his chest, lifting into flight every time she snorted at one of his lame jokes. How she'd wished the night would never end. How he'd wished the same.

But that was another life. Tim reached over, taking Cass' hand.

"I'll help you, though. Get with her. If you want."

"You will?"

"Of course. Obviously without crossing any boundaries, but—well, I want you to be happy. Both of you."

Cass pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. "Thank you."

"Anytime," he said.

****

She was already there, sitting at the booth by the window. Tim paused near the door as a waitress passed in front of him, carrying mugs of beer and a plate of fries. The diner lights were dull and yellow. The air smelled of oil.

"Hi," Tim said, sliding into the seat opposite her.

Stephanie looked up from her phone, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Fashionably late, aren't we?"

"Sorry. The traffic sucked. I know I should've walked, but..."

"...But you and your cars," she said, huffing a laugh.

A waitress stopped by and they ordered two milkshakes. Once they came, Tim and Stephanie spent a few minutes silently sipping at their straws.

"It's pretty good," Stephanie said, letting out a sigh. "But not quite as good as it used to be."

"That's what I was thinking. Remember when they used to have the choco-coconut-caramel special?"

"You think I'd forget? I used to get them once a week. Well, whenever I had the pocket money."

Tim took another sip. "And then there was that burger they tried once. The monster chow? The kind of disaster only Cass could stomach."

"Oh, god, don't remind me of Cass' stomach. She put away two entire rotisserie chickens yesterday."

They snickered over their milkshakes. Even after all this time, she never failed to make him laugh.

The waitress came by again and dropped off a small, heart-shaped cupcake.

"Oh, we didn't order this," Stephanie said.

The waitress winked. "It's on the house. Young couples don't know how to go on dates anymore without burying themselves in their phones. I'm glad you two are different."

"Ah—we're not—"

But the waitress had already moved away. Tim shifted.

"Well, that was..."

"Yeah." Stephanie's expression tightened. "Whatever. People see a guy and a girl together and just assume things. Tale as old as time."

"At least we got a cupcake out of it."

"You can have it," she said. "I'm not hungry."

He grabbed the cupcake but didn't take a bite. He wasn't particularly hungry either.

"Maybe we can save it for Cass," he said.

Stephanie's face softened. "Yeah, she loves cupcakes. Especially ones with sprinkles like this one."

"Give it to her, then."

He slid the cupcake over. She placed it on a napkin, carefully wrapping it corner by corner.

"You and Cass have gotten pretty close," he said.

"We've always been close. I guess it's a little different now that we're both Batgirl, though. Sometimes I still can't believe she wants to share it with me."

She gazed down at the cupcake, a smile curling at the edges of her lips. Tim's throat felt dry, and he gave a little cough.

"Do you—um. I mean, you don't have to answer, but I was wondering if you... like her?"

"Huh? Of course I like Cass."

"Right. Um." Tim shifted, cursing himself for the second time in as many days. "Nevermind."

"Wait, you mean—" Stephanie flushed. Not an embarrassed flush, but one of anger. "What the hell are you asking?"

"I was just thinking aloud, I—"

"You're interested in my feelings now? You?"

"I've always been interested in your feelings, Steph."

"Don't bullshit me, Boy Wonder." Her hand squeezed into a fist. "Is that what you asked to hang out for? To get some gossip out of me?"

"No, that's—I just wanted to spend time with you again. Honest.”

She turned to the window, taking a deep breath. "Yeah. I know. Sorry."

“Look, forget I said anything.” Tim followed her gaze towards the sunlit streets outside. “How are classes going? You mentioned you have a midterm coming up?”

“For biochem. It’s gonna suck.”

“Hey, you’re the Batgirl. I’m sure you’ll ace it.” 

“Easy for you to say, Boy Genius.” She turned back to him. "Bernard goes to college too, right?"

"Yeah. He asked me to wear a wig and sit one of his exams for him."

Stephanie snorted. "As if you'd ever go for breaking the rules like that."

"Okay, I break plenty of rules."

"If you have to," Stephanie said, leaning her elbows on the table. "Not for fun."

"Are you calling me boring?"

"Maybe."

"Stephanie Brown called me boring." Tim pressed a hand to his heart. "I think I'll never recover."

"You're such a dweeb," she said, laughing.

Tim grinned at her. "Bern's called me that a few times, y'know. I'm glad you two haven't teamed up to bully me to death. Though actually he does want to see you."

"Bernard? Really?"

"He said you were cool, that one time you met. It was only for a few seconds, but we both know you make a very striking first impression."

"Is this about the brick?" Stephanie rolled her eyes. "You'd think I killed your pet or something."

"A brick to the head hurts, Steph."

"It's better than whatever disaster you have on your head right now."

"Hey, I like this haircut," Tim said, pouting. "Anyway, are you up to meet Bernard? I was thinking you, me, and him could watch a movie together. They're playing Godzilla vs. Pink Panther at the Higgins Theatre next Friday."

Stephanie looked down for a second, before looking back up and nodding. "Sure. I'm down."

A thread of relief wound its way through Tim's chest. "Thanks, Steph. You're the best."

"Don't you forget it," she said.

****

"And that's what happened with Tam," Tim said, holding up the newspaper. "So if you see any more references to 'Tim Wayne's engagement', you'll know it's not real."

Dana was laughing so hard the bed was shaking. Tim glanced at the button to call for the nurses, edging closer as Dana's fits of giggling went on.

"Sorry, sorry," Dana said, wiping her eyes as she finally managed to calm down. "Your life is just—oh, it's like a soap opera. Adopted by a billionaire, becoming CEO, faking an engagement—"

"I didn't have anything to do with that last part—"

"You must bring Tamara over," Dana said. "I'd love to meet her."

"She's busy running FoxTech. I think I'd have to schedule an appointment three months in advance."

"What a shame. You sound like you had fun with her."

"I did," Tim said. The times during Bruce's 'death' had been generally unpleasant, but Tam had been the one shining light back then. "We still hang out occasionally. Last month, me, her, and Bernard went out to lunch."

Tim bit his tongue. Stupid. Mentioning Bernard when he didn't have a plan yet—stupid!

"Bernard?" Dana snapped her fingers. "Your friend from high school! He came over once, didn't he?"

"Y—yeah."

"And who was your other friend? Ives? Do you keep in touch with him?"

"He moved to Star City a few years ago, but we do D&D sessions online. Well, we were supposed to. I guess we've both been too busy for it recently."

"You've got to hang onto your friends, Tim." Dana patted his cheek. "It's tougher to make friends the older you get. I'm glad you at least have Bernard."

"Yeah, he's amazing." Tim cleared his throat. "Um, Dana, I—"

"And you have Stephanie, of course." She beamed. "How is she?"

"Oh, uh, she's great. Busy with school, but she still made time to get milkshakes with me yesterday."

"You two are so sweet. You know, me and Jack could just tell you were meant for each other. You should see the way your eyes light up when you talk about her."

The room felt stuffy. Tim got up to stand by the window, breathing in the cool fall air. "Dad—said that about me and Steph?"

"Not in so many words, but I could tell he was happy for you." Dana gazed at him fondly. "I bet he's smiling down at you right now."

Tim didn't know how to respond to that, so he just nodded.

****

He wasn't sure when patrolling with Batman had become a rarity. From the beginning, Tim had been fairly independent, more so than Dick or Jason had been. But he'd still spent a fair few nights running at Batman's side, taking down criminals as the Dynamic Duo. These days, though, they always seemed to miss each other.

But not tonight. The wind whipped through Robin's hair as he swung next to Batman, their reflections rippling across the glass windows of a skyscraper.

They touched down on a rooftop. Tim crouched beside Batman, watching their city below.

"Your step-mother," Batman said, straight to the point as usual. "You've been visiting her?"

"Yep. She's doing well, if that's what you're asking."

Bruce grunted. Tim grinned—some things never changed.

"She wants to meet you, by the way. Since you adopted me and all."

"I'll look at my calendar," Bruce said, gruffly. He paused. "Tim. You're doing well?"

"Me? Of course. Why—"

Shouts cut him off. They came from the alley beside the roof, and before Tim could blink Bruce had already taken the dive. Tim followed on his heels.

A man cowered by the dumpster as his assailant—a short, hooded figure—brandished a knife at his throat. He was babbling incoherently, holding out his wallet with trembling fingers.

Batman landed in front of the man and kicked the knife out of the assailant’s hand. He dove for a tackle, but there was a crackling sound and the assailant vanished in mid-air. They reappeared a few feet away, cackling triumphantly.

A teleporter. Tim flung his bo staff and struck the assailant in the chest, stunning them. He sprinted forward and pinned the teleporter to the ground.

“Agh! Get off me!”

The voice was shrill and high. Wriggling against Tim’s grip, the assailant’s hood fell away to reveal the wide, angry eyes of a young boy.

He spit into Tim’s mask. Jerking back, Tim’s hold slackened and the boy scrambled away, shooting Tim a glare before he blinked out of sight.

“Robin.” Batman's voice growled behind him. “Are you hurt?”

“Fine. Is the victim alright?”

“He was well enough to run away as soon as we landed."

Tim got up, dusting off his cape. The feel of Batman’s gaze burned against his skin, but he didn’t raise his head to meet it.

“You let the boy escape."

Tim knew Bruce well enough by now to know he didn’t mean to sound so accusatory, but it still didn’t take the sting out of the words.

“I was caught by surprise. Sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Batman tilted his head.

Tim sighed. "It's nothing serious. It's just... there was a kid, back in the day. He called himself Dodge. He stole a teleporting device to fight crime, and he wanted me to mentor him or something. I obviously didn't go for that. But then stuff happened, he absorbed the powers, and then more stuff happened and he... faded away. This kid just reminded me of that."

"You were under no obligation to train him. It wasn't your fault."

"I know that," Tim bit out. He did. He'd spent years coming to terms with what had happened—rationalising it, compartmentalising it. The way Bruce must've done when he'd stood at Stephanie's grave, spinning excuses for all the ways he had killed her.

Bruce shifted from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable. Tim looked away. He had never wanted to become like Bruce, no matter how inevitable it felt.

"You should get some rest," Batman said. "I'll cover the rest of patrol."

"Thanks," Tim said, taking that as his cue to leave.

****

The sky was crystal blue above them, fluffy white clouds sailing on the breeze. Tim held Bernard's hand as they strolled down the street. Every time Bernard squeezed his fingers, Tim's heart did a little jump.

"I'm just saying, the government probably discovered real-life kaiju back in the 80s, which is why there was that decade-long period with no monster movies."

"Mmhmm," Tim hummed, thinking about the way Bernard's eyes were as clear as the sky.

They arrived at the Higgins Theatre, a rundown building tucked into the side of an art museum. Bernard squinted up at the marquee.

"Whoa, they're playing reruns of Casablanca. We should see that sometime! Maybe next week?"

"It's a date," Tim said. He'd never get tired of saying that.

They waited by the entrance, leaning next to a big poster of Godzilla vs. Pink Panther. Bernard watched the passersby eagerly.

"Does Stephanie like action movies?" he asked. "Should I have picked something different?"

"She'll love it. Besides, she usually loves the experience of going to the movies more than the movies themselves."

Bernard nodded, fiddling with his collar. Tim smiled and bumped Bernard's shoulder gently.

"Hey, she's gonna love you. You already got the first meeting out of the way."

"That was barely anything. I just—I want to make a good impression, you know? I can see how much she means to you."

"And that's why I know she'll love you. Because—"

Tim stuttered to a stop. Okay, he knew it was a little ridiculous to feel so worked up about saying 'I love you' after almost a year of dating. He did love Bernard, he had no trouble admitting that in his head, but out loud? That might change things. Tim had absolutely no desire to change things.

He hadn't even told Bernard about Robin yet—though, all things considered, he wasn't doing the best job of hiding it.

Bernard sucked in a breath, seemingly oblivious to Tim's mental spiral. "There she is!"

"Hey, guys!" Stephanie skipped up to them, her hair pulled into a messy ponytail. She wore a leather jacket, a pink top, and a black skirt.

"Hi, Stephanie. You look great," Bernard said.

"Aw, thanks. Access to Tim's Wayne money has its perks."

Bernard laughed while Tim rolled his eyes. "As if. You've never accepted money from me or Bruce, ever."

"Best not to owe you guys too much," Stephanie said. "Shall we go inside?"

They headed into the theatre, buying three buckets of popcorn before finding their seats. Tim sat in the middle, Bernard on his right and Stephanie on his left. The trailers started to play.

"Full disclosure, I haven't watched any of the other Godzilla movies," Bernard said.

"What?" Tim and Stephanie exclaimed at the same time. Stephanie leaned across Tim towards Bernard. "It's a must see. Especially Godzilla Minus One, that one almost transcends the genre. Tim sobbed when he saw it."

"You sobbed too," Tim said. "You used up my whole box of tissues."

"Fine, I did, but at least I didn't cry to Frozen 2."

"The song Anna sang was sad!"

"The whole movie was a cash grab. An effective one, since you bought that Elsa plushie in the mall."

Tim blushed, whacking Stephanie in the arm. "You swore not to tell anyone."

"Surely your boyfriend doesn't count."

"Don't pay any attention to her," Tim said, turning to Bernard. "She lives to embarrass me."

"That's true," Stephanie chimed in.

It was hard to make out Bernard's expression in the darkened room. "Do you guys watch a lot of movies together?"

"Tons," Stephanie said. "We used to go for one every week. Back when the theatre by my house was open and they did 5 dollar Tuesdays."

Tim reclined in his chair. "God, I miss those times. Nowadays everything is so expensive."

"I don't want to hear any of that from you, Boy Billionaire."

"Shh!" came a cranky voice from behind them. Tim and Stephanie hushed, exchanging a look and giggling.

The lights dimmed and the film began to play. It was standard action movie fare, but the special effects were great and the main actress (Julie something?) was surprisingly convincing. When the main character's father died, Tim might even have shed a tear or two.

The credits rolled, a pop song playing over the speakers. Tim ate the last of his popcorn as he got up and stretched.

"What did you guys think?" he asked.

Bernard's eyes were puffy as he said, "I didn't realise people were going to die."

"Bern, it's a Godzilla movie."

"I haven't watched any before!"

"That was pretty good," Stephanie said, standing up. "Not as good as Godzilla vs. Biollante, but top half of the franchise for sure."

"No way. Biollante has nothing on this."

"I'm not taking opinions from a boy who used to have a bowlcut."

"It was literally for a month, Steph," Tim grumbled.

They filed out of the theatre amidst the crowd. In the outgoing rush, Tim found himself next to Stephanie, his arm brushing against hers.

"I missed this," Tim said, quietly. "Watching movies with you."

She smiled. "Me too."

"Maybe we could make it a regular thing again? Just the two of us. If you want?"

"I mean, if Bernard's okay with it."

"Okay with what?"

Bernard emerged from the crowd, hand slipping into Tim's. Stephanie's gaze flicked down to their intertwined fingers.

"Nothing," she said. "I have to go, but thanks for inviting me, Bernard. I had a great time."

"Me too! We should hang out together more," he said.

She gave a brief nod and then slipped out into the street. As Tim watched her go, Bernard asked, "how long were you two dating again?"

"Huh? Oh, a few years. It's kinda complicated since... um." He didn't exactly know how to describe universe-altering events and timelines. "A few years. It was a long time ago, though. Why?"

"No reason," Bernard said, shaking his head. "C'mon, let's get some dinner. I'm starving."

He lifted Tim's hand and kissed his knuckles. Tim grinned and let Bernard take him wherever he wanted to go.

****

The phone rang once, twice, three times. Tim glared at the screen impatiently, slouching down on his bed. If Dick had forgotten their weekly call again, Tim would hack into all his stuff and set a very loud, very insistent alarm.

Finally the ringing stopped, and Dick's face filled the screen.

"Timmy! Sorry, just had to get Haley some food. I promise I didn't forget again."

"Fine," Tim said. "But you're on thin ice."

"Aw, don't be like that. I'm swinging by for patrol tomorrow night, you wanna join me?"

Tim straightened. "Yes! Just you and me?"

"Well, and Damian, too. He insists on having my first patrol of every month. Well, he doesn't say that explicitly, but I can tell."

"Oh." Tim slouched down again. "I guess that's fine."

"I thought you two were getting along now."

"We are, Dick. It's fine."

"Well, how are you, then? What's up?"

"Nothing much. I've told you Dana's doing well—they said she might be discharged in a few weeks. And everything else is good. This is one of the calmest periods we've had in ages."

"No deaths, no world-threatening disasters, no major new villains," Dick mused. "I guess you're right. No wonder I've been thinking about getting a new job."

"Back on the police force?"

"God no," Dick said, laughing. "That was—a failed experiment, let's say. I was thinking maybe a gymnastics instructor. Something more low-key and flexible, y'know."

"You'd be good at that."

"Thanks. What about you? Thinking of taking a job?"

Tim shrugged. "What would I even do?"

"C'mon, you're one of the smartest, hardest-working people I know. You could do anything. Didn't you have a dream job when you were younger? I remember I used to wanna be an 'acrobat firefighter', whatever that means. I know Damian wants to be a manga artist. You don't have anything like that?"

"Not really. I think I just expected something to fall into my lap when I was a kid. And back then, I thought I'd go to college."

"Do you still want to?"

"Maybe, but..." Tim stared up at the ceiling. "Me and Steph, we were gonna go to Ivy Town together. When I broke up with her, it just kind of—derailed those plans. Now it's too late, I guess."

"You talk like you're dying. You're in your early twenties, Tim! That's the time for exploring everything you wanna do. College didn't do me any favours, but if you're thinking about it, you should try it."

"I don't know." Tim sighed. "Bernard's already started his master's degree, Steph went back to finish her bachelor's, and I'm not doing anything with my life, Dick."

"You're a superhero. Pretty sure that counts as 'doing something'."

"Yeah, but—I don't know. I just miss the way it used to be, sometimes. When I was in high school and I had my whole life ahead of me."

"You do have your whole life ahead of you." Dick gave him a look. "You want some brotherly advice, Tim?"

"What?"

"It's okay to be nostalgic, but don't get caught up in all that. The past can never truly come back. On the trapeze, we had a saying—look forward and you fly, look backwards and you fall."

"Geez, I'm not about to invent a time machine. I know all that."

"A little reminder never hurt anyone." There was a distant buzzing, and Dick turned to look behind him. "Ah, that must be Damian. Sorry, Tim; see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah. See you."

****

The Loft's kitchen was filled with an astonishing variety of cup noodles. Tim took two from the cabinet, handing them to Cass. She peeled back the tops and poured steaming water inside.

"Eating too many cup noodles is bad for you," Tim said.

"Getting shot is bad for me," Cass said. Tim couldn't argue there.

They ate at the kitchen island. Cass slurped the noodles like she was in an eating competition, finishing the cup in 2 minutes flat. She went in search of something else to eat.

"Where's Steph?" Tim asked.

"Out with friends." She rifled through the pantry. "Kyle, I think."

"Cool." Stephanie hadn't mentioned a Kyle to him. He used to know so much more about her.

Cass returned to the island with two sleeves of crackers and a box of chocolates. She ripped one sleeve open, holding it out to Tim.

"No thanks." He watched her shove ten crackers into her mouth at once. "How are things going, by the way? With Steph?"

She chugged some milk, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Good. Maybe. I still don't... know if she feels the same. Did you ask her?"

"I tried, but she got a little mad. She wouldn't answer me."

"Oh." Cass tossed the empty sleeve onto the counter, picking up the remaining one. "What... happened, between you two? Stephanie never said."

Tim grabbed the sleeve wrapper, folding it into tinier and tinier triangles. "I just—I think I realised there was something missing in my life. Not because of Steph, but because of me. And when I realised I liked boys, I may have freaked out a little. Broke up with her on the spot. I couldn't—I didn't know how to tell her why, you know? It took me so long to admit it to myself. So I ended up going radio silent. I'm lucky I didn't hurt her too bad."

"Oh," Cass said again.

"I know. I could've handled things better."

"Relationships are hard. I've never even... had one before. A real one."

"I blew up a lot of mine, so I'm not that far off from you."

"But you dated Stephanie." She leaned forward. "What was it like?"

Tim bit his lip. "We didn't hit it off immediately. At first I was dating Ari, and I didn't really know what to make of Steph. You know her, though—you know the way she is."

The way her hair looked in the moonlight. The way her eyes burned with fire, even after the world tried to put them out. The way she laughed with her shoulders. The way she was charming and funny and angry and held a grudge like nobody else. The way she'd hit him with a brick that first day—the way he'd felt the impact and realised things were never, ever going to be the same.

"It was nice," Tim said. "Dating her was nice."

Cass nodded. She looked down at the counter-top, down at her reflection. "You were lucky."

"I know."

"Do you think she... I... I don't deserve her. Do you think she... knows that?"

"What?" Tim leaned over the counter. "Don't say that, Cassie. You're an amazing person who deserves everything in the world. And you'll never know how she feels unless you ask."

"I don't want to change things."

"Not all change is bad. Hey, how 'bout you ask her to hang out next week, the three of us? That'll help you work up the courage, and then I'll leave you halfway through to your date."

Cass' ears turned red. "You think that will work?"

"I'm sure it will."

"Okay," she said. "I trust you."

****

Light rain fell from the sky, pattering on the wind-shield. Tim switched on the car wipers. Through the fog, Gotham looked dark and bleak.

"You wanna listen to something?" Tim asked, turning to Bernard in the passenger seat.

Bernard shook his head. "I like the rain. It's soothing."

They turned onto the next road, immediately getting stuck in traffic. Halloweekend was always a pain to drive through—Tim should've thought twice before suggesting a restaurant on the other end of town.

"Ugh. This might take a while."

"I told you we should've stayed in," Bernard said.

"And eat what? All I had in the fridge was some lettuce and half an onion."

"You never seem to have time for groceries," he said, musingly. "I wonder what's always got you so busy."

"Being a Wayne isn't all sunshine and rainbows, you know. Bruce is making me attend some galas next week."

"You poor thing."

Tim reached over to pinch Bernard's arm. "Don't start."

"You love when I tease you," Bernard said, grabbing onto Tim's hand. He interlaced their fingers. "Besides, this is the perfect time to discuss our upcoming anniversary. Can you believe we're coming up on one year? The best year of my life."

"Mine too," Tim said, grinning.

"I was thinking I could make us dinner? If you want. I'm not a professional chef yet, of course, and if you'd prefer a real dinner that's—"

"Bern. I'd love if you cooked for me."

Bernard flushed. "I—yeah, okay. I'll make whatever you want, Tim. And we could have the dinner on the deck of your boat, 'cause the view's amazing."

"Sounds like a date." The rain was coming down harder now, beating on the hood of the car. "Jeez. Maybe we should've just split that onion."

"I could've caramelised it, and with the lettuce—"

A beep cut him off. Bernard pulled out his phone, glanced at the screen, and shoved the phone back in his pocket.

"Who was that?" Tim asked.

"Uh, nobody. A spam text."

For all his talents, Bernard was a terrible liar. Tim inched the car forward, giving it a few seconds before saying, "you know you can talk to me about anything."

"It's not... I don't want you to get mad."

"I won't get mad."

"Um. I just—that was my mom. We've been... talking."

If they weren't already motionless, Tim would've slammed on the brakes. He withdrew his hand. "What? What do you mean, you've been talking to your mom?"

"It's not a big deal."

"Are you kidding? She's the one who shut you out for a year. She was horrible to you, she never cared about you—"

"Jesus, you think I don't know that? She reached out, for god's sake. I really think it's different this time."

"You don't know that." Tim gripped the steering wheel, thinking of Bernard when they'd first reconnected—the cult he had escaped, the welts on his arms and legs. Bile rose in his throat. "Your parents, they—shit. They don't deserve to be forgiven."

"I don't think that's your choice to make," Bernard snapped. "And you're one to talk. Stephanie Brown, huh?"

"What—what's that supposed to mean?"

"I always thought she seemed familiar, but it was only after the movie that I remembered the broadcasts. She was Robin during the gang war, wasn't she? The gang war that—that killed Darla." Bernard looked down at his lap. "Was Stephanie involved in that, Tim?"

Rain pounded against the wind-shield. Tim set the wiper to a higher frequency, trying to ignore the drowning feeling in his chest. "You have no idea what you're talking about, Bernard."

"Then tell me. You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

"I don't know what you want me to say," Tim gritted out. "Maybe the broadcasts were wrong. And even if they weren't, how would I know anything?"

Bernard looked at him. Then his shoulders sagged, and he leaned against the door. "I guess you wouldn't. I'm sorry, Tim. It's just—with Mom texting me, and remembering Darla... Sometimes I think—I expect you to have all the answers, and that's not fair."

"It's okay," Tim said, feeling suddenly exhausted. "I'm sorry for getting mad before. I just don't want you to get hurt again."

"That means the world to me. But sometimes there's no avoiding the pain, you know? It won't be as bad as it was when I was a kid. 'Cause now, I have you."

"Promise me you'll cut it off if things go bad?"

"I promise." Bernard leaned over, resting his head on Tim's shoulder. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being someone I know would never hurt me."

Tim turned and pressed a kiss to Bernard's forehead.

****

Tim placed three roses in the vase, pulling the blinds up to let the sunshine in. The light danced around the hospital room, landing in Dana's hair as she sat up in her bed.

"Beautiful," she said. "Where did you get them?"

"There's a really nice boutique down the street. We'll go once you're cleared, Dana."

He came over and sat in the chair near her. "I can't wait. Oh, Tim, what's this?" She traced a scar on his cheek from last night's patrol.

"Tripped and scraped my face against a table," Tim said, shrugging. "Nothing to worry about."

"Hm." She cupped his cheek. "You seem tired, Tim. Is everything okay?"

"It's just the coming winter. I always get a little tired as it gets colder."

"Your dad was the same way, wasn't he? Roaring in the sun, but subdued in the cold." Tears sprang into her eyes. "I really miss him."

"Me too," Tim said, leaning into her touch.

"You look so much like him now, did you know? I wish he'd gotten to see the man you've become."

"Oh, I don't know. I'm sure he wouldn't like that I didn't go to college."

Or that he was bisexual. Of course Tim didn't know—would never know—how Dad really felt about it. But sometimes he'd see it so clearly in his mind, the disappointment, the scowl that would draw Dad's eyebrows down like thunder. And an awful, horrible part of Tim felt a little relieved that he'd never have to see that look in real life.

"He'd understand," Dana said. "And at least you have a girlfriend that's getting her degree. Speaking of, you still haven't brought her around!"

"She's busy. Her degree and all."

"Surely she has a little spare time. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you didn't want me to see her."

"Don't be silly," Tim said, laughing weakly. He fiddled with her blanket. "I'll bring her next time, then."

Dana smiled. "I can't wait."

****

After a few days the storm had finally swept out of Gotham, leaving sunny skies and unusually hot weather. Tim tugged at his collar as he waited underneath the tree, gazing up at the Loft's windows.

He remembered Stephanie's windows back when she'd lived in the suburbs. Sneaking in at night, holding her in his arms, talking about whatever minor things teenagers thought were the most important issues in the world. One time, around her seventh month of pregnancy, she'd refused to let him touch her.

I'm all big and gross, she'd said. I don't know why you don't just leave me.

Tim hadn't known what to say, then. He'd just run his fingers through her hair and held her tight.

The front door opened and Stephanie and Cass tripped out, arms intertwined. Stephanie was giggling at something Cass had said, her shoulders shaking with laughter.

"Hey," Tim said as they came towards him. "Steph, you look amazing."

Stephanie twirled around, her powder blue dress flaring out at the hips. "Thank you! Thrifted it with Wendy last week."

"It's pretty on you," Cass said.

Stephanie blushed. "You think so?"

Cass nodded, turning a matching shade of red.

Which—ew. Watching his sister and ex flirt was way more gross than he'd realised. He might have not thought this plan all the way through.

They turned into the main street, strolling towards Cass' favourite burger place. Tim stood on Stephanie's right while Cass was on her left. At the intersection, Cass punched the pedestrian button a few times.

"This intersection's always sucked," Stephanie said. "I remember Mom used to go all the way down Fourth Street just to avoid this place."

"It was worse when they were building that stadium," Tim said, grimacing at the memory. He'd walked this intersection with Mom, too. Mom. He hadn't thought about her in a while.

"Right! I feel like the lights barely changed. Wait, remember when we went to the skating rink near Christmas? When you tried to jaywalk and—"

"—Tripped over the curb and spilled all my stuff? Hard to forget."

Stephanie laughed. "All your Warlocks and Warriors cards fell out. God, it took ages to pick them all up."

"Warlocks and... Warriors?" Cass asked.

"It's a game Tim used to play," Stephanie said. "Hey, we should get together and play it sometime! You'd love it, Cass."

The lights changed and they crossed the street. Tim was planning to leave right before they entered the restaurant—he'd arranged for Dick to call him, just to make it seem like a real emergency. If that failed, he also had some artificial blood to fake an injury.

But that might not turn out to be necessary. Stephanie had drifted closer to Cass, leaving a gap between them and Tim large enough for people to walk through. Which was good. Getting Stephanie and Cass together was the plan, wasn't it?

Tim shivered. Winter hadn't even hit yet, and he was already feeling sick.

"Aw, man," Stephanie said as they neared the restaurant. A line snaked out the door, curving down the road. "Must be some promotion going on. D'you guys feel like waiting?"

"We could go to the Italian restaurant a block over," Tim suggested.

"Giano's?" Stephanie lit up. "That place has the best garlic bread. You good with that, Cass?"

Cass cast a wistful look at the burger store before turning back to Stephanie, nodding.

So they set off for Giano's. Tim's phone buzzed, Dick's picture filling up the screen. He hesitated, thumb hovering over the accept call button.

"Tim?" Stephanie was looking at him, her blue eyes shining in the sun. "Something wrong?"

Tim swiped the call away. "No. Nothing."

In Giano's, they were ushered to a low table near the bathrooms. Stephanie and Cass sat on one side, Tim on the other. As Stephanie buried her head in the menu, Cass sent Tim a questioning look.

"Um," Tim said, clearing his throat. "Right. Sorry, guys, I forgot I had a—um—"

"Hm?" Stephanie flipped to another page. "They have lasagna, by the way. Is that still your favourite?"

"Oh. Yeah."

"And I'm sorry about the burgers, Spookygirl, but at least they have steak." Stephanie shifted closer to Cass until they were pressed against one another, sharing the menu. Which was over the top, really. Surely he hadn't been this overt with Stephanie before they'd started dating.

And he couldn't see their hands. Were they holding hands under the table? Well, so what? Why should he care?

The waiter came and Stephanie ordered a plate of spaghetti, the most expensive steak on the menu, and lasagna. She turned to Cass and started talking about some bust they'd made last week. Tim rarely worked with them anymore. He rarely worked with anyone anymore, besides Barbara in his ear. He wasn't sure when that had happened, whether it was on purpose or not. And whose choice had it been—his or everyone else's?

"Tim," Cass said.

Tim shook himself out of his daze. "Yeah?"

"I thought you had... something to do."

"Oh, right." Tim rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, I, um, have to go... oh." The waiter had come back, placing a steaming plate of lasagna in front of him.

"You might as well finish that before you leave," Stephanie said, raising an eyebrow.

Tim picked up a fork, avoiding Cass' gaze. "Yeah. Of course."

The tablecloth was wine dark, like the sky after Stephanie had given birth. She and Tim had gone to the park, the one they'd had their first date in. Stephanie had repeated what she'd said earlier, about feeling gross, about wondering why Tim didn't leave her. That time, Tim had prepared an answer.

Don't be silly, Steph. He'd reached across the swing set to hold her hand. I wouldn't ever want to leave you. And even if I did, I couldn't. It would be too hard.

****

The cape was one of the best parts of the Robin suit. Occasionally the fabric caught on things, or the wind whipped it wrong, or bullets managed to wear out the material, but for the most part it was a beautiful piece of work. Tonight, though, the cape was giving him an unusual amount of trouble.

"Stupid thing," Tim grumbled, wrenching the fabric from where it had snagged on a gargoyle.

He squatted at the edge of the roof, rocking back and forth on his heels. It was a habit he'd retained from his Red Robin days. The feeling as he rocked all the way forward, right before the fall, right before certain death—when things got bad, it calmed him. Dick would probably have something to say about that, even if he had much worse coping mechanisms himself.

The night was starless and cold. Tim got out his tablet. The past few days he'd been looking for spikes of energy, radiation signatures that indicated teleportation. Nothing so far, but he wasn't one to give up that easily.

Telling Bruce how he'd failed Dodge hadn't been as hard as he'd thought. But he'd left out the big thing, of course—the fact that he'd promised, as Dodge faded away in his arms, to find him. To bring him back.

He was always promising that. He'd promised it to Bruce, too, when Dick and Stephanie and everyone had been convinced Bruce was dead. Tim hadn't been fooled. And yet, what had he accomplished? Bruce had fought his way back by himself. Tim had just put on a new costume and pretended that made him a different person.

That was all over, though. In the past. There'd been too much of the past lately, and honestly, Tim wasn't sure what to do with it all.

A scream shattered the night's silence. He embraced the diversion, rushing towards the nearby graveyard. As he landed on the grass, he spotted three attackers wielding baseball bats near a tall gravestone. Body-snatchers, most likely, who'd been interrupted in their work.

He threw a bola and knocked one to the ground, hurling batarangs at the other two. They went down quick. He'd barely broken a sweat as he turned to their would-be victim.

"Are you—" He stopped.

In the dim light of the moon, Bernard blinked up at him. "Robin," he said, breathlessly. "You really are a life saver."

Tim helped him up, making sure his touch didn't linger too long. "What are you doing out at night? It's dangerous."

"Nothing's dangerous with you around."

"I'm serious." Blood trickled from a scratch on Bernard's cheek, and Tim's stomach twisted. "You have to be careful, Bernard. If you need to go out at night, bring someone with you."

Bernard dug his shoe in the dirt. "I was going to ask my boyfriend, but he—wasn't responding. And I don't have anyone else."

Oh, god. Tim wanted to crawl into a grave.

"At least bring pepper spray," he ended up saying, like an idiot.

"I'll keep that in mind." Bernard shifted from one foot to the other. "I guess I'll head home now. Thanks, Robin. I don't know what I'd have done without you."

"Wait. I..." Tim sucked in a breath. "It's still dangerous. I'll walk you home."

"You don't have to—"

"I want to," he said. Bernard hesitated, then nodded with a smile.

Tim had done walking patrols before, so it wasn't that strange to be on the ground instead of the rooftops. It was being with Bernard that threw him off. He kept wanting to brush against him, to loop an arm around his shoulders, to peck his cheek.

"Hey," Tim said, to distract himself from how kissable Bernard's face looked right now. "What were you doing at the graveyard, anyway?"

"I was visiting a friend." Bernard rubbed his arm. "She was someone I knew from high school. I kinda liked her, but she never reciprocated. Story of my life, really."

"Don't you have a boyfriend?"

Bernard laughed softly. "Tim's special. He always has been."

"And how are things—going with him?"

"Why?" Mischief gleamed in Bernard's eyes. "You have a crush on him or something?"

Tim spluttered. "No—I just—I'm interested in your welfare."

"Hm." They turned a corner, and Bernard's eyes glowed in the light of a street-lamp. "Things are going well, Robin. Although..."

"Although?"

"I think there's—well, I think there's something on his mind. Something he's not telling me."

"Not all secrets are bad."

"Yeah, but he's been—different, lately. I wish he'd tell me what's going on."

"I'm sure it's nothing serious. Whatever it is, he'll get over it soon."

Bernard sighed. "I just want him to know he can trust me."

They arrived at Bernard's apartment building. Tim glanced up at his window, dark and shuttered.

"He trusts you," Tim said. "And he adores you. From, uh, what I know of him. You have nothing to worry about."

The corner of Bernard's mouth lifted. "Thanks, Robin. You're my hero."

He hopped up the steps and closed the door.

****

As he entered the Batcave, a sudden chill came over him. Batman's silhouette was flung large on the side of the wall, lit by the computer screens. Tim stopped in his tracks.

"Tim," Batman said.

Stephanie never really talked about what Robin had been like for her. Of course not—on the list of awkward conversations they'd never had, that was at the very top. But he remembered her saying, one night as they were planning their life at university, how she still had nightmares about Bruce's voice sometimes.

The way he said Stephanie, right before he fired me. Stephanie had hesitated. I can't even describe it to you. It was like—the moment he said my name, I was already dead.

Tim hadn't gotten it at the time. He understood a little better, now.

"Bruce. What's wrong?"

"You've been looking into the teleporter." Blunt as a hammer. "The boy named Dodge. I told you it wasn't your fault."

"We're superheroes. Saving people is what we do."

"Not at the cost of saving others," Bruce growled. The Batman voice. Tim recoiled, not from fear but from the sheer insult of it all. Surely, after everything they'd been through, Tim deserved a little more respect than this.

"What's that supposed to mean? I've been saving people, like normal. I haven't let my search for Dodge interfere with anything else."

"You've been distracted."

"Of course I've been distracted." Irritation bubbled up in Tim's chest. "I'm trying to help Dana with everything, and I'm also juggling being a good boyfriend and being Robin. Which isn’t easy, just so you know.”

Batman looked at him. Then he removed his cowl, leaving Tim to face a disturbingly sincere-looking Bruce Wayne.

“I’m just worried about you,” he said. “Cassandra said you’ve been off lately.”

The words stung, somehow, like a betrayal. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“We both know that’s not true.”

“Okay, fine. I’ve got some issues to work through. We all do. Just let me handle this.”

“You’re my son, I want to—“

“Don’t. Don’t say that.”

The expression on Bruce’s face made Tim feel like an asshole. And he was an asshole, because Bruce was only trying to help. But Bruce calling him his son—it was true, it had been true for years, but right now it felt like a stab to the gut.

“I just—I need a little rest,” Tim said. “I think I might take a few weeks off from patrol, if that’s okay.”

Bruce nodded silently. Tim walked out of the cave, trying to squash the queasy feeling in his stomach.

****

They were at the diner again. Stephanie had her hair in a bun, fiddling with an errant strand. The waitress who had called them a couple before was serving them again.

“Just a side of fries for me,” Tim said.

"On a diet or something?" Stephanie placed her elbows on the table. "If you didn't wanna grab a meal, we didn't have to meet here."

"I thought you liked this place."

"Yeah, before. It hasn't really been the same since management changed."

She traced a pattern on the table with her finger. There were moments, tiny, wonderful moments, when it seemed like they could really be as close as they once were. And then there were the times where Stephanie couldn't even look him in the eye.

"We can go somewhere else," Tim said.

"We already ordered."

"Ah. Right."

Stephanie looked out the window, where a group of school kids were crossing the street and yelling loudly to each other. A harrassed-looking teacher herded them towards the museum up the block.

"How's your mom doing?" Tim asked.

"Pretty good. I'm trying to get her to cut down on some of her shifts, since I've got my own job now. But she's still trying to take care of me." Stephanie sighed. "She thinks she needs to make up for my whole childhood, I guess. Which I get, but I wish she'd believe me when I say I don't hold all that against her."

"She'll get there. Sometimes it's harder to accept forgiveness than blame."

"I'm well aware," she said.

The waitress plopped down a plate of fries for Tim and a burger for Stephanie. She picked up the burger and asked, "how's your step-mom?"

"Oh, she's doing well. We—uh."

Stephanie's eyes narrowed. "What?"

"She doesn't—I just—I was wondering if you'd like to visit her sometime with me."

"Visit?" She blinked. "I mean—yeah, okay. Does she even remember me though?"

"Well, she... she kinda thinks we're still dating."

Stephanie stared. Her face went pale, and then filled back in with an angry, violent red. "What?"

"It's not her fault, she—"

"I know it's not her fault! But what the fuck do you mean she thinks we're still dating? She's been awake for weeks now, you haven't told her we're not?"

"She doesn't know I'm bisexual," Tim said, gripping the table. "I—I'm trying, Steph, I promise. But she's still weak, and—I didn't want to surprise her with anything too big. Bernard knows and he's fine with it."

"So you told Bernard but not me."

"It affects him, so—"

"And it doesn't affect me?" Stephanie slammed her burger back on the plate, rattling the condiments. "You want me to what, play at being your girlfriend? Are you serious?"

"It's just this one time," Tim said. His hands were clammy. "I know it's not a great thing to ask, but she really wants to see you. Please. I'll come out to her soon, I'm just asking for a favour."

"This is a terrible idea. You—" Tim's phone began to buzz. He fished it out of his pocket, but before he could check who it was Stephanie snapped, "you're seriously going to take that?"

"Sorry." He silenced his phone. "Look, I know how it sounds, but... please. Just this once. I'll never ask you for anything again."

She glared at him. "Are you really that afraid of what she'll say? She's too nice for that, from what I remember."

"She loved my dad," Tim said abruptly. "And Dad was nice too—sometimes. But I think he—I know. I know he'd have hated it."

It was the first time he'd ever said it out loud. The words tasted like ash in his mouth.

But Stephanie's glare had softened. "Dana's not your dad, Tim. She'll probably react differently."

"If you were me, would you risk it?"

She looked down. "God. You're so—fine. I'll do it. But just this once. And... you owe me, big time."

"Deal," Tim said, letting out a breath.

"You should check if Bernard's okay with it, too."

"I said he—"

"That's probably what he said, yes. That's not always what he feels."

"I think I'd know better than you," Tim said, frowning. "He's always been very supportive of me, even when he doesn't know everything."

"How long will that last? Being in a relationship with someone who doesn't trust you sucks. It's not sustainable."

"I do trust him."

"Well, glad to know you've improved since you dated me," Stephanie said bitterly.

"Jesus, Steph, are we really doing this again?" Tim curled his hands into fists. "I know I wasn't the best to you, but don't pretend you were perfect to me, either. And don't forget you went after me."

"Yeah, after you literally kissed me."

"I was severely oxygen deprived! It wasn't a kiss!"

"And how on earth was I supposed to—"

"Ahem." The man in the booth next to them shot them a dirty look. "Do you two mind keeping it down?"

"Sorry," they both said instantly.

They sank into a miserable silence. It had been so long since they'd fought like that—not since the Red Robin days. Fighting with Stephanie was like tearing out a piece of his own chest. There was so much history between them, so much they knew about each other. It was suffocating.

"Tim..." Stephanie said, finally.

Tim shook his head. "It's okay. I—I'm sorry, Steph."

"Me too. We should..."

"Yeah..."

They threw cash on the table and walked out of the diner. Standing on the pavement, Stephanie looked up at the sky.

"Let me know when the visit is," she said.

"You still—? Thank you. I will."

"Do you..." Her voice was almost a whisper. "Do you think we're just—incapable? Of falling in love like normal people?"

"I don't think falling in love is ever normal."

"Yeah, but not everyone screws it up as much as we do."

"We do the best with what we have." Tim nudged her side, his fingers just grazing hers. "And forget what I said just now. You did pretty well, with me."

She pulled away. "I have to go. I'll see you."

She strode away as quickly as she could.

****

When Tim reached the marina, the moon was high in the sky. He'd spent a few hours wandering around Gotham, retracing his old routes to school, the smoothie shop, the library, Dad's favourite restaurant, his favourite spot in the park. If he'd expected some revelation to strike him during the journey, he was sorely disappointed.

He stepped onto the boat, the boards swaying gently below him. The sea was pitch black. It would probably feel nice, getting swallowed by that darkness.

Then he passed through the door and sincerely wished he'd tossed himself off the pier.

"Bernard," he said, feeling the blood drain from his face. "I'm so, so sorry. I completely forgot it was date night."

Bernard sat at one end of the table, two cold plates of chicken in front of him. His face was blank. "I called you."

"I—I had my phone on silent. I'm sorry."

"What were you doing?"

"Just—walking around." Tim winced. It sounded like an excuse even to him.  "We could have dinner now? I really don't mind cold chicken. Some say it tastes better, even."

"I have class early tomorrow."

"Oh." Tim twisted his fingers together. "Yeah, no, you should definitely get some sleep. I'm sorry I'm such an idiot, Bern. I'll... I'll make it up to you."

"You're going to make me dinner?"

"Anything you want. That isn't, uh, too complicated."

That got a ghost of a smile. "You are such an idiot. But you're my idiot, I guess."

"I am," Tim said, smiling back.

He hesitated, then went over to Bernard. Bernard stood up and let himself be drawn into a hug.

"I'm sorry," Tim said for the fiftieth time. "You have every right to be mad at me."

"I'm not mad, Tim. I know you have important stuff to do. I just—I don't know."

"What?"

Bernard pressed his face into Tim's neck and murmured, "I don't want to get in the way of anything for you."

"You—" Tim took a step back, holding Bernard by the shoulders. "Bern. I completely forgot our date, and you think you're the one getting in my way?"

"Well, yeah. You're Tim Drake-Wayne, and I'm just..."

"You're the most brilliant, beautiful, amazing boyfriend ever. And you—you deserve so much better than me."

"What? I could never do better than you."

"Agree to disagree," Tim said, drawing Bernard close again. He could feel Bernard's heart beating against his own. "You're really not mad?"

"Maybe a little. I did go all out with the appetisers."

"I'm eating them all now."

"Tim," Bernard said, laughing as Tim grabbed a bread roll and stuffed it into his mouth. "You don't have to. We'll save it for tomorrow?"

Tim swallowed (with some difficulty). "Perfect. I promise I'll be there on time, and if I'm not you have permission to slap me."

"I didn't realise that's the type of thing you're into," Bernard said slyly.

Tim's face felt like a sauna. "Bernard!"

"Kidding. Unless..."

"Let's talk about this tomorrow."

"Oh, I don't think we'll be doing much talking," Bernard said.

Tim let himself be drawn into a long, sweet kiss. It was so sweet he almost felt forgiven.

****

Tim opened the door and the sound of tinny music leaked out. The nurses had brought Dana a radio, which she kept on the bedside table. She had better electronics, of course—Tim had made sure of that—but she liked the old school feel.

"Tim!" She switched off the radio and sat up. "You didn't tell me you were coming in today."

"I wanted to surprise you." Tim stepped inside and opened the door wider. "Dana, this is... well. You remember Stephanie."

Stephanie peeked over Tim's shoulder. "Hi, Dana. It's so nice to see you again."

Dana's face was radiant as she beckoned them over. They sat on either side of her, Tim fiddling with the radio while Stephanie let Dana clasp her hands tightly.

"You've grown so much," she said. "You look beautiful."

Stephanie blushed. "It's been a while. How are you feeling? Tim says you'll be out of here soon."

"Two weeks, at most."

"What's the first thing you're planning on doing?"

"Eating," Dana said. "Anything has to be better than hospital food."

"My mom agrees with you there."

"And how is your mother?"

They chatted on for a while. Dana's surprised joy never faded—in fact, it only seemed to grow. Stephanie had that effect on people.

He should be grateful that she'd agreed to this. That she was doing such a good job. But all he could think about, as he turned another knob on the radio, was Bernard.

"—And you must let me know about Tim," Dana was saying.

Tim blinked. "Huh? What about me?"

"She was just saying," Stephanie said, not quite looking at him, "that I should let her know if you're ever being a bad boyfriend."

"Not that I think you are, Tim, but men do screw things up so often."

"Hear, hear," Stephanie said emphatically.

Tim shifted in his chair. He hated lying to Dana, although he'd been lying to her since the day they met. Lying about Robin was one thing, though. This... was another.

A loud guitar riff burst through the air. Stephanie jolted, taking out her phone.

"Ah, sorry, gotta take this. Be back in a sec."

She rushed into the corridor. Tim put the radio down on the table, the news crackling on. Maybe Dana had already seen through the whole thing. Maybe she was about to ask Tim, why can't your girlfriend look you in the eye? Or, why can't you look me in the eye?

"What a sweetheart," Dana said instead.

"Yeah, she's amazing."

"And so are you," she said. "Everything—everything is so different, now. But you two staying the same through it all... it's wonderful."

"Right." Tim got up, a restless energy seizing his limbs. "But I—I mean, you know, we—it doesn't—Dana."

"Tim?"

"I have to tell you something."

Dana's eyes widened. "What is it?"

"I..." The announcer on the radio had switched to a breaking news story. Assault and battery—a group of men and a high school couple. The two boys are just the latest victims, the announcer said, in a wave of hate crimes sweeping the city.

Tim got back in the chair. "I booked a reservation for us at the Italian restaurant. Dad's favourite."

"Giano's? That's sweet of you, Tim. That's all you wanted to say?"

"Yes," he said.

He reached over and switched off the radio.

****

Tim jerked up from his desk. A sheet of paper, wet with drool, was stuck to his cheek. He tore it off and stumbled towards the door, where someone was pounding with an insistent rhythm.

"Who's it?" he asked, yawning.

"Us, Drake," said a high (and annoying) voice. "Do you not have a peephole?"

Tim yanked open the door. "What are you two doing here?"

Damian and Duke peered up at him, looking suspiciously innocent. "Tim," Duke said, "you know how you're Damian's favourite brother, and my favourite Robin?"

"Those are words I've literally never heard, so no."

"Well, okay, maybe they're not true, but—"

"We need you to buy Three Man's Bluff for us," Damian said bluntly. "Father and Grayson refuse to do so. They have the outdated belief that violent video games are bad for us."

"You came all the way here to ask me to buy you an R-rated video game?"

"Bruce has Barbara keeping an eye on our fake IDs and online activity," Duke groused. "You're our last resort."

"Gee, I feel so honoured."

Tim let them inside. They beelined for the pantry, ransacking his cabinets for a packet of chips and chocolate biscuits. The biscuits, Tim had been told, were Duke's favourite—Bruce had bought a lifetime's supply but been too embarrassed to hand them all to him, so he'd dispersed them among the family.

"Sweet," Duke said, taking three out of a sleeve. "I can't believe all of you guys like these! Found a stash at Cass' place as well."

"They're good," said Damian, who'd been the one to tell Bruce about Duke's love of the biscuits in the first place.

Tim made himself a cup of coffee as the kids munched on their snacks. It was a nice distraction, to be honest. Maybe he'd buy them the game after all.

"By the way," Duke said, "don't tell Cass you're getting us Three Man's Bluff. Everytime we get a new game, she always plays obsessively until she wipes out our high scores. It's so annoying."

"She did not let us have even one song in Just Dance," Damian said, scowling.

Tim chuckled. "I won't tell her. Although you should watch out for Steph, too—she's pretty competitive about her games."

"She says the same thing about you," Damian said.

"Hey, I'm not the sore loser between us two! And Bernard has told me I'm a very calm player."

"He's in love with you, man," Duke said. "Not exactly an objective source."

"Steph is in love with me too," Tim said.

He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. Not the words exactly, but the tense; he should've said, Steph was in love with me. Or maybe Steph fell out of love with me. Steph doesn't love me anymore. Steph might never have loved me at all.

He swallowed a mouthful of scalding coffee and started hacking up a lung.

Duke leaped forward and thumped him on the back. Tim coughed, tears springing into his eyes.

"Thanks," he croaked. "Coffee was too hot."

Duke looked at him. HIs gaze reminded Tim of something Dick had once said, when Duke had discovered Dick's identity. He saw right through me, Tim. You can't hide anything from a kid like that.

Tim took a step back.

"I cannot believe how long you've survived," Damian said, "if you were almost felled by a cup of coffee."

"I was not 'almost felled'."

"You looked like you were about to fall over and die."

"Did not."

"Did too!"

"Did—"

"Tim," Duke said, and Tim remembered the other thing Dick had said about him: that's a kid who always gets straight to the point. "Are things good between you and Steph?"

"Of course. Everything's fine."

"I dunno, you were pretty weird just now. And also when we said that stuff about Steph and Cass."

"I just got caught off guard." Tim gripped his mug. "It's none of your business, anyway."

"You're right. I don't know you or Steph that well, and you guys can do whatever you want. But I love Cass, and I know something's been bothering her, and that it has something to do with you."

"With Drake?" Damian looked between Duke and Tim, scrunching his eyebrows. "Does this have something to do with why Brown was upset the other day?"

Tim took a deep breath, reminding himself that these were his little brothers, that he'd been just as nosy at their age. Nothing to blow up over. "Look, it's just some stuff we're figuring out, okay? Don't worry yourself over it."

Duke pressed his lips together, but before he could reply Damian burst in. "Did you hurt Brown again, Drake? Because if you did—"

"Again?" Tim took another deep breath. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about when you broke up with her." Damian's eyes were bright with anger. Tim had almost forgotten how much Damian adored Stephanie—and how much Damian hated him.

Just like that night, coming into the cave to find Damian parading around in his suit. His suit. One of those moments when Tim knew, down to his bones, that there was no going back.

"You don't know anything," he said, feeling like someone else was speaking through his mouth.

"I know she always deserved better than someone like you!"

Tim fixed his gaze a few inches above Damian's head. "I'm not arguing about this," he said. "Not with someone who's barely capable of love, much less being loved."

Silence.

"Jesus Christ." Duke's voice was full of acid. "God, I'm sorry I tried to help your pathetic ass. C'mon, Damian. We don't need to stick around and watch this asshole destroy his own life."

He grabbed Damian's hand and slammed the door on his way out. The boat rocked so hard Tim's mug fell off the counter, smashing into pieces on the floor.

****

The Batcave was quiet. Everyone was out, which was just how Tim wanted it. He tapped a few keys and started up the computer.

As he typed in a search, the Oracle icon popped up. Tim pressed a button and Barbara's image took over one of the side screens.

"Robin," she said. "Bruce told me you were taking a break from hero duties."

"I am," Tim said, leaning back in his chair. "I'm just doing a little side research."

"Hm."

"It's nothing bad."

"Hm."

"C'mon, Babs."

She shook her head. "I should shut you down, but I am curious. What are you looking up? I won't tell anyone."

"Just a boy I used to know." Tim swivelled his seat idly from side to side. "Kid named Michael Lasky."

"The teleporter you fought once, right?"

He blinked. "I forgot about your photographic memory."

"That's how I get people," Barbara said, smirking. "But why are you searching for him now? He's been gone for years."

"I just wanted to make sure. If there's even a chance..."

"Cases this cold don't usually get a happy ending, Tim."

"I know." Tim propped his elbows up, laying his head on his palms. "But I wanted to try."

There was the sound of clacking keys from Barbara's end. Probably coordinating a Birds of Prey mission somewhere, or taking down a criminal empire by herself. Barbara took 'multi-tasking' to a whole other level.

"Sorry," Barbara said, turning her attention back to Tim. "Had to hack into LexCorp for a sec."

"Do I even wanna know?"

"Not unless you're ready to jump back into your suit. Speaking of, do you... well. I guess you'd prefer to talk to Dick about this? I can get him."

"No!"

Barbara raised an eyebrow.

"It's not—it's nothing." Nothing but the fact that out of everyone in the world, Dick was the person he least wanted to talk to about taking a break from Robin. Dick had already made it pretty clear what he thought, anyway, months ago. Telling Tim he needed to set himself free.

"Tim?"

"I just..." Tim buried his face in his hands. "I feel like something's wrong with me and Bernard. I can tell I'm failing him, and maybe it's because I haven't told him about Robin, but maybe it's just Robin. It's destroyed a lot of my relationships already."

Zoanne's face appeared in his mind, frozen in his last image of her—an imaginary one, her on the phone in her bed, listening as Tim broke it off. She hadn't said anything, but why should she have? Tim had barely had time for her. He hadn't even had the guts to break up with her in person.

"I'm not saying you're wrong," Barbara said carefully. "Our night life does get in the way of a lot of things. But quitting might not solve everything, Tim. Not if you don't know what the problem is."

"He—he says I've been different."

"Have you?"

Tim lifted his head. "If anything, I feel like I haven't changed at all."

"Maybe you should just ask him what he meant."

"Great, and I'll achieve world peace while I'm at it."

"I'm just saying he's probably seeing something you can't see yourself. Because he loves you, and because self-awareness is not exactly a Robin strong suit."

"Ouch. You tell Dick that to his face?"

"Everyday," Barbara said, smiling. Something started beeping, and Barbara's gaze snapped to the left. "Sorry, Tim, duty calls. Good luck with Bernard, okay? And don't forget to log your break in the shared schedule."

On that inspiring note, the screen went dark.

****

When Tim got back to the boat, there was a shadow on his windowsill.

"You've been avoiding me."

"Hello to you too," Tim said, walking into the kitchen. Cass was always in a better mood when she had something to snack on. "Want a sandwich?"

Cass trailed behind him. "Yes. With ham."

He used the entire package, tossing on a few pieces of lettuce for extra measure. She took a seat at his island and took a huge bite.

"I haven't been avoiding you," he said, playing with the edge of his shirt. "It's just been a weird time. I'm sure Babs told you I'm taking a break."

She nodded. "Didn't say why."

"Just personal reasons. Nothing to do with you."

"But... you've been avoiding me."

"I told you, I haven't—"

"You have. Right now, you want me to leave."

Tim gritted his teeth together. "Okay, fine. I just didn't think you'd understand. It's not like you've ever wanted to quit."

"You always... do that," Cass said, drawing her brows together. "You think I don't understand anything."

"I didn't say that."

"Didn't have to."

"Why are you here, Cass?"

She put her sandwich down. "You said you'd help me. With Stephanie."

"I did," he said, turning around. He really didn't want to talk about Stephanie. "I set up that restaurant date for you, didn't I? I know I didn't leave, but I tried to. I just didn't see an opportunity. And you could just ask her on a date yourself, you know."

"I don't want—I can't hear her say no."

"She won't."

"She's never said—"

"For god's sake," Tim snapped, whirling back around, "she's in love with you, Cassandra! Anyone with eyes can see that! The way she looks at you—god, it's like she's never loved anyone else."

Cass recoiled. "Why are you angry?"

"I'm not."

"You don't want this," she said, slowly. Her cheeks coloured red. "You don't want her to like me."

"Could you, for once, just listen to what I'm saying instead of doing your body reading bullshit?"

"I can't help it," Cass growled, jumping to her feet. "And you—how can I listen if you never tell me anything? You never explain. You think I'm stupid!"

"There's nothing to explain! You love each other. Mission accomplished. What I feel doesn't matter."

"You think I'm not good enough for her."

Tim pressed his hands to his eyes. "Shit. Cass, could you please—I don't want to do this."

"I do." Her voice trembled. "Just tell me. Tell me I don't deserve her."

"It's not about that, okay? It's just—you've never taken her side. Not when it counts."

A sharp breath. "You mean... if you mean Bruce—"

"Of course I mean Bruce." Tim couldn't stop himself now, not even if he tried. "It's just that you always, always, run to him, don't you? Like you telling him I've been 'off'? God, you couldn't even hold him fucking accountable when Steph died. Steph—she deserves someone who I know will put her first."

"Like you?" Cass' tone was vicious. "Is that how I put her first? Push her out of my life? Choose someone else?"

"This isn't about me."

"Liar." She stepped up to him, jabbing a finger at his chest. "All of this—this—bullshit... it's not about Bruce. Not about me. It's about you losing her."

"Shut up," he said, eyes burning.

"I know she deserves better. I know my hands are not... clean enough. But at least I'm not lying to myself."

He slapped her hand away. She retaliated by grabbing his wrist, her fingers bruising his skin.

"It doesn't matter," she said. "That you're still in love with her. It doesn't matter."

When she let go, his wrist continued throbbing.

****

Tim's phone rang. It was "I've Got A Lover" by The Beachies—Bernard's favourite song. He held the phone to his ear, pulling the blanket farther over his head.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself, beautiful. How was your day?"

"It was... something."

"That bad, huh? Well, nothing a little alone time with me can't fix."

"I'm sorry, Bern. I—I'm not in the mood."

The line went quiet.

"It's not about you," Tim said hurriedly. "Things have just been stressful lately, y'know, with Dana and everything. We'll see each other tomorrow, I promise."

"Tomorrow."

"Yeah." Tim paused. "Unless you're busy?"

"No, I'm... you're not doing a bit, are you?"

"What? Of course not."

"Oh." The syllable was tight. "Tim, you really don't know what today is?"

Tim bolted upright, his blood running cold. He glanced at the calendar on the wall—at today's date, circled three times in red.

"Oh my god," he said. "Bernard, I swear, I didn't mean to forget. You can totally come over. I just need to change—"

"I'm already here," Bernard said, sounding weary. "On the deck."

Tim leapt out of bed, throwing on a jacket and running out the front door. The air was sharp with frost, biting at his cheeks and exposed ankles. On the deck, Bernard had set up a table draped in white, covered with steaming plates of food. Two candles cast a glow against the dark sky.

Bernard was leaning against the railing, wearing a sky blue suit that perfectly matched his eyes.

"Happy anniversary," he said.

"Bernard," Tim said, taking a desperate step forward. Bernard didn't move. Some emotion Tim couldn't name was flickering in his eyes. "Bern, I am so, so sorry."

"I figured."

"Can I—can we just—"

"What?" Bernard twisted his fingers together. "I already said I don't mind if I'm not the most important thing in your life, Tim. It's fine. Really."

"No, you don't... you don't have to do that. You can be mad at me."

"You want me to be mad?" A sour smile curled up Bernard's lips. "I mean, admittedly, this is a little worse than the last date you forgot. Were you out taking another walk?"

"I wasn't—I..."

Bernard lunged forward suddenly, snatching up Tim's hand. He ran his fingers over the bruises. "What happened?"

"It's nothing. I just fell."

"You fell and got finger-shaped bruises on your wrist?"

"Yes," Tim said, shaking off Bernard's hold. "Don't worry about it."

That emotion in Bernard's eyes flickered again. "You don't have to do that."

"Do what?"

"Lie to me. I know, Tim."

Tim's breath came out in a big puff of smoke. "Know what?"

"God. I've been waiting forever, don't make me be the one to say it."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm talking about you being Robin." Bernard barked out a laugh. "You know, I had a whole vision of how this would play out. How you'd tell me on the deck of this tacky boat, maybe even tonight, and how I'd tell you I knew all along. You'd be a little mad, but you'd mostly think it's cute. Then we'd kiss. It would be the happiest, most wonderful night of my life."

"Sorry to ruin it for you," Tim said. He felt the old wound being torn open again—Bruce going behind his back, telling Stephanie who he was. Except this time there was no one to blame but Bernard and himself. "Sorry I didn't spill my most important secret to you in time. I'll try to consult your schedule in the future."

"Are you seriously mad at me now?"

"Of course not," Tim scowled, which was mostly true. "But I would have told you, okay? On my own terms. If you wanted that magical night you should've just waited."

"For what, Tim? For the world to end? For you to die? You think it was easy for me to hear all your excuses, knowing you were out there getting stomped by magic elephants or something?"

"That's exactly why I didn't tell you. If you didn't know, you wouldn't be worried."

"But I did know. God, I'm not stupid! You're not the only person who can put two and two together. And—I could have helped you."

"What?"

"We could've been partners. I mean, I can't fight, but I could've done tech or—"

"No." Tim ran a hand through his hair. "You are not getting involved in vigilante business, Bernard. No way in hell."

"That's not up to you," Bernard said, lifting his chin.

"This isn't a game." Another funeral, another coffin—Bernard in the coffin—no. Never. "We're not talking about this anymore. Let's just eat, alright? I'm starving."

He started towards one of the chairs, but a hand on his arm stopped him.

"Don't," Bernard said. "You can't just—you blow me off like this all the time. I thought it was just because you were hiding being Robin, but you don't need to hide anymore. Why won't you just trust me?"

"I do trust you."

"I don't know how you expect me to believe that."

"Same way you expect me to believe you, when you didn't even tell me you were texting your mom."

Bernard flinched. "That's different."

"How? If we're going to rake each other over the coals for keeping secrets—"

"It's not about the secrets, Tim! It's about how I feel like I only know half of you, and that half always feels like he's somewhere else. And—and she knew you were Robin, didn't she? Stephanie."

Tim's heart dropped. "This isn't about her."

"I want to believe you," Bernard said. "You have no idea how much I want to believe you."

"Don't change the subject. I remember those early nights, Bern. All the times you cried over your parents. They're not worth a second of your time."

"And that's for you to decide, is it? You talk as if I need your permission."

"God forbid I'm worried about you. God forbid I don't want you to talk to someone who only makes you feel awful!"

"Thanks to you, I have plenty of practice loving someone who only makes me feel awful!"

The words cannonballed into Tim's chest. He took a few steps sideways, collapsing against the railing, staring into the sea. The moon was too dim to illuminate his reflection.

"Wait, I didn't mean that. I—you don't make me feel awful, Tim. You're the one thing that makes me feel good. You're my good luck charm, my—"

"Stop," Tim said, gripping the railing. "Please. I can't do that. I can't be all that for you."

"But you are."

"And what happens when I fail? Don't you understand?" Tim squeezed his eyes shut. "I screw up everything."

"You don't mean that." Bernard came up next to him, pressing their arms together. "Look, all that was just—it was about time we had our first real fight, right? So you're a bit flaky. Who isn't? And all that vigilante stuff we can figure out together. The truth is I... I need you, Tim."

Tim heard him, but all he could think about were Cass' words. All he could feel was her grip on his wrist. And all he could hear was Stephanie on the pavement, asking, are we incapable of falling in love?

He opened his eyes.

"I can't do this," he said.

"Okay, yeah, that was a little much. If we eat, we'll probably both feel better. I made your favourite—"

"No, not this. This. Us." Tim spoke the words to the ocean. "I think we should break up."

Bernard sucked in a sharp breath, drawing away from Tim, until the distance between them was insurmountable. The night grew a few degrees colder.

"Why... this is just one fight. Just one fight, Tim, god, we didn't even—it's our anniversary. Our anniversary that you forgot and now you want to end things and I just—I know I'm not good enough for you, but I can get better, I... Tim..."

Tim forced himself not to turn around. One look at Bernard's face and he'd take it all back, and where would that leave them? Back to the way they were before, Bernard open, loving, much too forgiving, as Tim hurt him over and over and over again.

Better to cut it off now. Better to end it when Bernard had a chance of recovering, a chance of finding someone who would never make him cry.

"You should go," Tim said. "It's getting late."

Bernard's breath hitched. "Y—yes. Okay. Yeah, I'll just... god, Tim. You—you're such a fucking idiot."

But Tim still didn't turn around, not even when the echo of Bernard's words faded away, not even when his footsteps trailed off into the hum of distant traffic.

****

He only did so when the thud of boots hit the deck, and an angry voice said, "what the hell did you do, Tim?"

"Steph?"

Her appearance had the surreal quality of a dream. She was in her Batgirl outfit, mask down. "Who else? Wait. Are you crying?"

"It's nothing," Tim said. "What are you doing here?"

"You said something to Cass. Something awful, because she won't even tell me what it is."

"She said awful things to me too," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"What are you guys, twelve? You didn't even grow up together to have this much sibling drama. Anyway, you need to apologise to her. She didn't even feel like watching the new episode of Love Island."

"I don't need to do anything," Tim said, feeling completely off-kilter. He did not have the energy to think it through before he held up his wrist. "Maybe she should be the one apologising to me."

"Jeez," Stephanie said, coming forward. She took his hand. "Okay, it's not too bad. Cassie used to nerve strike me every time she needed me out of the way."

"And you liked that?"

"Obviously not. It always felt like she broke my jaw."

"But you like her."

Stephanie dropped his hand. "This again? Is this some kind of twisted power play, matchmaking me with your sister?"

"She likes you too, you know."

She pressed her lips together.

"You do know," Tim said, slowly. "You know she likes you. But you don't—you don't want to date her. Why?"

"I don't exactly have a good track record, do I? And I've never been with—a girl." She leaned against the railing next to him, gazing up at the stars. "It doesn't matter. She'll find someone else, someone better, and me? I've decided to accept that love just isn't in the cards."

"Oh." The words felt like a balm, soothing and familiar. "Me too."

"Don't make fun of me."

"I'm not. I..." His lips trembled, and he fought with every ounce of his will to keep his voice steady. "I broke up with Bernard."

"What? Tim, you..." Her gaze flitted to the table. "Oh god. Just now?"

"Yep."

"Shit. I'm sorry."

"It's fine. It's—for the best."

"Do you want to talk?"

Tim wiped his face, shrugging. "There's nothing to say. He just... deserved better than me. I was only dragging him down. You know what I mean?"

"Yeah. I do."

She started laughing. One of those free, deep, full belly laughs that had grown rarer as she'd gotten older. It was too infectious for Tim not to join in, and then they were doubled over, tears streaming down both their faces.

"Sorry, it's not funny. I just thought," Stephanie said, hiccuping with laughter, "that you were living your perfect life. That you'd left me behind. But we're both stuck in the same shithole, aren't we?"

"Birds of a feather," Tim said, gasping for breath.

"Do you—do you remember that time we went to NYC together?"

"You mean when we got scammed in Times Square?"

"Well, not that moment, but after. When we were chasing down that guy with your wallet." Stephanie's giggles died down, and she hugged herself against the growing wind. "We ended up near that tarot practitioner, and we took turns going in. But we kept the fortunes a secret."

"For when we got accepted into Ivy Town," Tim said, the memory unfurling in him like a flower.

"Remember when we got the fortunes, and I said it didn't matter since I wasn't gonna get in anyway? You said—you told me, 'you don't have to believe you'll get in. I'll believe for the both of us'. Well... you don't have to believe you deserve love, Tim. I'll believe for the both of us."

Tim's eyes stung. "Why? You were right. I was terrible to you. I should never have broken up with you the way I did. I don't know how you can forgive me."

"It's not about forgiveness, I think. Not for me." She nudged him with her shoulder. "I... I understand better, now, why it was hard to tell me. I mean, I didn't—I realised I liked Cass a few months ago, and I feel like I haven't stopped spiralling. I know I'm not different, like logically I know that, and I'm fine with literally anyone else being queer. But me? I'm not different, but I feel different."

"I get that. I also just—I did feel like the rug was being pulled from underneath me. And some days it's still hard. You'll hear a news story or a comment and it's just—it didn't used to make me want to throw up, you know?"

"God. Life sucks."

Tim smiled a little. "Sucks less when you're around."

"Don't say stuff like that," she said, ducking her head. "How am I supposed to believe you? When... when you broke up with me, it was like—I wondered whether you'd ever cared at all. Sometimes I'm still not sure if I meant anything to you."

"Are you kidding?" He took her hand and rubbed his thumb in slow circles, the way he used to do. "You mean everything to me. You've always meant everything to me."

She locked eyes with him. The gaze was electric—the way she used to look at him, like he'd hung the stars. Her hair sparkled in the moonlight.

And he was exhausted. He was wrung out, heartbroken, running on fumes. He couldn't think straight. He couldn't breathe. There was only the look in her eyes, the warmth of her hand, the rocking of the boat pushing him forward. Leaning in close.

So he kissed her.

For a split second her lips were warm, tasting like her favourite brand of strawberry chapstick. Then he was being slammed into the railing behind him, the breath knocked out of his lungs.

"What the fuck." Stephanie's hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide, furious. "What the fuck!"

"Steph," Tim said, his brain finally starting up again. Oh god. Oh, god. "I'm sorry, I didn't—"

"You're sorry?" Her eyes were bright with tears. "You're sorry."

"Steph—"

"You, the first boy I ever loved, the person I thought I'd spend the rest of my life with—the one who broke up with me out of nowhere, ghosted me, left me to wonder what the hell was wrong with me. Do you know how many nights I spent coming up with reasons you didn't like me anymore? I'm too old. Too ugly. I'm not as funny as I used to be. I'm cruel and spiteful and jealous. I came up with a whole list of things to hate and god, they're all fucking true."

She stifled a sob. "And I finally made my peace with it. I finally started to think of somebody else, someone who didn't make me feel like crap. Because let's be honest, I always loved you more than you loved me."

"That's not true," he said, his throat hoarse. "You can say anything you like, but I did love you."

"Get real. I've heard the way you talk about your time with me, like it didn't even matter. And to be clear, I would never have left you for some guy I haven't seen in years, some nobody who doesn't even watch Godzilla movies—"

"Don't talk about Bernard like that!"

"Sorry," Stephanie said bitterly. "I know I'm just the jealous crazy ex. But do you know how humiliating it was to be invited to one of your dates as a third wheel? Did you even think about how I'd feel?"

"You agreed to it." Tim's heart was pounding, the blood rushing to his ears. "Don't act like this is all my fault."

"I'm not! I know damn well I did this to myself. But what the hell was I supposed to do, Tim? I wanted so badly for us to go back to the way we were. I fucking missed you! And after all of that, you—you go and kiss me!"

Her tears were flowing freely now. His weren't; he didn't have anything, not a single drop, left in him.

"That's all I am to you, right? A standby you can pick up and drop whenever you want. Throw me a few pretty phrases and I'm at your beck and call. And you know, there was a time when this would have worked. When I'd have given anything to be with you, even as a rebound." She drew herself up. "But I'm not a teenager anymore."

She put on her hood, drawing it low over her face.

"I think it's time we both let this go." She readied her grappling hook. "Goodbye, Tim. I hope you get what you deserve."

****

The next week passed by like sludge. Tim didn't do much of anything, since he didn't have anything to do. No patrol, no civilian life, nobody to see or talk to. He sat at the edge of his boat and pondered how cold the water would be, which was already frosting over. Winter had come with a sudden, vicious grip, choking the life out of the trees.

Bernard would be done with classes by now. They had talked about a Christmas trip to Vermont, but that probably wasn't happening anymore. Or Bernard would take someone else.

The image of Bernard with a new boyfriend made Tim so violently sick he stumbled back inside, collapsing onto the couch. It wasn't even fair. He was the one who broke it off, he didn't deserve to be upset.

But maybe that was exactly what he deserved. Everything that had happened on that spectacularly awful day—no, he couldn't say he didn't deserve it.

He closed his eyes. He didn't have anything better to do than sleep, really. At least then he couldn't hurt anyone.

He had almost drifted off when there was a knock at his door.

A dozen possibilities flashed through his mind. Cass? No, she would never come in through the front door. Steph? No way. Bernard...?

His heart was in his throat as he turned the knob.

"Surprise!" Dana stood on the other side, beaming. "I got an early discharge from the hospital, and I thought I'd visit you first thing. I can't believe you're really living in a boat. This is—oh! You look..."

"Dana," he said quickly. "I'm—so glad you're here."

He ushered her inside, making her sit on the couch as he fixed her a cup of tea. She took a few sips as he sat next to her, patting his hair into something that didn't look like a cat's furball.

"I thought the nurses were gonna call me," he said.

"They said they did. Apparently you weren't picking up."

Shit, he must've slept through the calls. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." She placed the cup on the table, glancing sideways at him. "I know you've got a lot on your plate."

"That doesn't make it okay. I should've been there to help you."

"Who's parenting who here?" She pinched his cheek affectionately. "You've given me so much of your time already. I want to return the favour, alright? You look a little under the weather."

"Flu season."

"Nothing a good soup won't fix."

She went into the kitchen, ignoring Tim's protests for her to take it easy. Opening the fridge, she raised an eyebrow.

"No time for groceries?" she asked, pointing to the lone stick of butter and half-empty carton of eggs.

"I, uh, forgot."

She closed the fridge. "Let's order something in, then."

They ended up going with a nearby pizza place. Dana rattled off Tim's favourite pizza order by heart, smiling as she neared the end. "It's nice to know I've still got it," she explained. "Sometimes I'm—a little worried about what I still don't remember. But I've got everything important, I think."

"You're doing great to me."

"I'd never forget anything about you." She got up, looking around. "Where's the bathroom, by the way?"

"Through my room, right over—"

He stopped. This morning he'd spent a pathetic hour combing through his picture book of Bernard, which he'd left on his bed. He couldn't remember if it was open or not, but there was hardly a platonic explanation for it either way.

"Tim? What's wrong?"

He could pretend his room was too messy. Pretend he was embarrassed about the decor, nip in there, tuck the book into a drawer. Hide. Lie. Just as he'd done for most of his life.

And yet he couldn't. He just couldn't anymore.

"Dana." He shook his head, willing the building pressure in his eyes to dissipate. "I—I'm so sorry. I lied to you."

"What?" Her voice was alarmed.

"I'm not dating Steph anymore. We haven't been dating for years. You just seemed so happy we were together that I—I played along, and got her to play along too. Which was shitty of me to do to you and to her, and I'm sorry."

Tim kept his head down, concentrating on a loose thread in his shirt hem. If he pulled it, maybe the whole thing would unravel. "I never meant to lie to you. I was just so... scared."

"Scared?" Dana knelt in front of him, covering his hands with hers. "You had nothing to be afraid of. I adore Stephanie, but if things didn't work out between you two, they didn't work out. That's normal at your age. You'll find another wonderful girl, and—"

"I've been dating a boy. Well, I mean, I was dating him. We... we broke up..."

To his horror, he began to cry. This was the worst coming out speech in the history of coming out speeches—he hadn't even gotten to 'I'm bisexual' before Dana had to find out he'd fumbled both Stephanie and Bernard.

"Sorry," he said, jerking his hands away to press them to his face. He felt like he could keep saying that forever. Sorry, sorry, sorry. A million times for every single time he'd fucked things up.

And then warmth enveloped him. Dana, wrapping him in her arms, burying her face in his hair. She was crying, too, her breaths coming out in trembling notes.

"Oh, sweetheart," she said, "I'm the one who's sorry. I—I kept looking for the ways you'd stayed the same, didn't I? I made you feel like you had to hide yourself from me."

"It wasn't your fault."

"I should have made myself more clear." She pulled back, cupping his face. "I want you to be happy, Tim. I want you to be loved. Whether that's a friend, a partner, whoever—a girlfriend, or a boyfriend—that's all I want. And I want you to be yourself while you do it."

"You... you're okay with it? With me?"

She pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I love you, Tim. Nothing else matters."

It turned out to be as simple as that. Maybe it was silly, in hindsight, how long it had taken to get here, how afraid he'd been of this moment. But all of that didn't count, not as she pulled him into another embrace, not as he clung to her like a lifeline. He'd gotten here in the end, somehow. Nothing else mattered.

****

Tim raised his fist and knocked three times.

There was shuffling on the other side, a brief pause—checking the peephole, probably—before the door swung open. Dick blinked down at him, surprise written all over his face.

"Were we supposed to hang out today?" he asked.

"No, I just—sorry. If you're busy, I can go."

"Whoa, I didn't say that. My next shift's in a few hours. Come on in."

Dick's apartment was characteristically messy, clothes strewn over the couch and floor. A half-finished plate of noodles lay on the table near the window. On the wall, a framed picture of Dick and Bruce hung just slightly askew.

"Sorry about the mess," Dick said, picking a jacket off the couch and flinging it towards a corner. "Sunday's my chore day, but the new drug ring in Blud has kept me busy."

"How's that going?"

"Pretty good. Going undercover with Jason in a few days, so I'll be MIA for a bit. Shouldn't be long, though."

"Oh. Cool."

"So what brings you to my humble abode? Besides my winning presence, of course."

"I just wanted to talk. About—um." He twiddled his thumbs. "About stuff that's been going on recently."

"Yeah?"

Tim tried to continue, but the words deserted him. Coming out to Dana had taken a load off his shoulders, but he hadn't been able to tell her everything. Maybe he'd never be able to say it, given how tongue-tied he felt now.

After a painful minute of silence, Tim shrugged. "Nevermind. I should leave."

"Hold on," Dick said. "You didn't come all the way out here just to stand in my doorway. C'mon, let's go."

"On patrol? I'm not... I'm not Robin right now, Dick."

"Who said anything about Robin?" Dick grinned at him. "I was talking about train surfing, little bro."

It was a lethal combination: train surfing, and Dick calling him little bro. Tim felt his mouth stretch into a smile. After all this time, Dick could still get him hook, line, and sinker.

They swung to the railway station in the East End, the one with a particularly enticing roof to jump from. Dick went first, leaping through the air in a beautiful arc, landing gracefully on the train with both feet. Tim executed a much sloppier jump, but it did the job.

"You're rusty," Dick said.

"Shut up."

"Rude. Your generation has really lost its manners."

"Whatever you say, grandpa."

Dick grabbed Tim and gave him a noogie. Tim laughed, the wind picking up as the train sped into Bludhaven. The lights and sounds of the city blurred around them, and Tim held on tight to Dick's shirt, to his warmth underneath.

Dick kept them steady with ease, shifting like the rattling train was nothing more than solid ground. The train slowed into the central terminal and they jumped onto the roof. From here, Bludhaven spread out for miles in every direction, a glittering array of neon lights.

"Best view in the whole city, huh?" Dick took a seat, pulling Tim down beside him. "It's been too long since we've done this. Maybe we should make this a regular thing."

Tim nodded, slumping into Dick's side. The wind had stripped him bare, his exposed skin tinging in the aftermath. He was wearing a simple tracksuit and sneakers—an old gift from Dick that still fit.

"So," Dick said, gently. "You ready to talk?"

"I... I can't."

"Why not?"

"I just can't." He hid his face in Dick's shoulder. "There's no point."

"If it makes you feel better, then there is a point. To be honest, if you hadn't come to me today, I would've come to you. I'm worried about you, Tim."

"You wouldn't be if you knew what I did."

"Enlighten me, then."

"I—I said—" Tim's voice hitched. "I was horrible to Damian. I told him—he didn't even do anything, and I told him nobody would ever love him. We'd been getting along, too, and... I ruined it, Dick. I ruined everything."

He withdrew, burying his face in his knees.

"I don't know how to stop being a bad person," he said.

"Tim." Dick placed a hand on his shoulder. "Can you look at me?"

"No."

"Okay, I'll say all this to your hair, then. It's—normal, alright? Feeling like you're the worst person in the world. Sometimes it's even true. But that doesn't mean you can't come back from it. In our line of work, and in our family, we know that better than most."

Dick's fingers started combing through Tim's hair. "You shouldn't have said that to Damian. You already know that. The next step isn't punishing yourself, but figuring out how to make things right."

"I can't. Maybe—maybe with Damian, 'cause you can help, but not with Cass. Not with Steph or—or Bernard."

"Bernard?"

"I broke up with him. And then I kissed Steph. When I say I ruined everything, I mean it."

"Jesus. That's—that is a lot."

"Something's wrong with me," he said, and the admission cracked a chamber deep inside him. "I was happy with Bernard. I know that. But I got so confused, and the thought of Steph and Cass just—but she's not my girlfriend and it's not my place, so why do I—it just makes me sick. I don't know what to do."

"Whoa, slow down. What about Stephanie and Cass?"

"Them getting together. I didn't know they liked each other until recently."

"You didn't?"

"You don't have to sound so surprised!"

"Sorry, sorry." Dick chuckled. "Look, I don't know everything that happened between you two, but it sounds like you have mixed feelings about Stephanie moving on. Which is completely understandable, and it'd probably be weirder if you didn't feel that way. Feelings don't make you a horrible person."

"But doesn't that—doesn't that mean I'm still in love with her? That I've been leading Bernard on this whole time?"

"Is that what you think it means?"

"I don't..."

Tim looked up at Dick, but Dick's face was carefully neutral. So Tim looked out at Bludhaven. At the bay, and the city beyond the bay—a city of grey areas, of loss, of unanswerable questions. A city where you were forced to swim or drown. To lose yourself in mysteries, or to become a detective.

"I love Steph," he said. "I have for a long time, and I still do. But..." But when he'd kissed her, the sweetness had all been in the familiarity. The nostalgia of who he used to be, of who they both used to be, lovestruck teenagers peering out at an endless future. Their night in the park was a sacred memory, a symbol of lighter, more innocent times.

But Stephanie was right. They weren't teenagers anymore—and no matter what they'd said, the night was never meant to last forever.

"I want her in my life, always. But not as a girlfriend. My love for her isn't like that anymore."

And the weight on his chest that had been sitting there since god knows how long disappeared. He breathed in, letting the air go deep inside him, filling up his lungs.

"And Bernard?" Dick asked, after a pause.

"Bernard..." Tim turned the name over on his tongue. If his love for Stephanie was the accumulation of countless nights, inside jokes, life-changing events, break-ups and make-ups, then his love for Bernard was relatively simple. They hadn't even kept in touch between high school and their reunion. In some ways, Tim didn't know Bernard as well as he'd thought.

And vice versa. Tim had never quite been able to bare his soul to Bernard. When they'd met again, it had been an instant crush, and then a seamless transition to dating. So safe. So normal. Tim had been afraid of ruining that, so he'd hidden anything that could mar the beautiful surface. No Robin, no coming out to Dana, no real introductions to the Batfamily.

Nothing real except the way Bernard's hand felt in his. The way he'd looked across the table on their first date, the lights catching the curve of his jaw, the spark in his eyes.

"I wasn't very honest with him," Tim said. "Not just about Robin, but about everything. This whole year I've tried to prove I'm worthy of him. And every time he told me I was the best thing that ever happened to him, I felt like I had even more to prove. But I kept failing, Dick. I just... can't do it. I can't be what he wants me to be, who he thinks I am. He should... he should find someone who can be."

"Hm." Dick tilted his head. "I don't know him that well, but don't you think you're underestimating him?"

"Underestimating? How?"

"Maybe who he thinks you are isn't far off from who you really are. And maybe he's saying you're the best thing that ever happened to him, because it's true."

"No. I—that's not possible."

"Tim." Dick's face grew serious. "Look, I love you, and I can tell Bernard loves you too. I know part of you will never believe that you deserve that love, but for me, and I think for Bernard, it's not really about what you deserve. The fact is that my love for you is there, whether you accept it or not. And we'd both be happier if you accepted it, don't you think?"

"That's different. You know me, but I've been hiding so much of myself from Bernard, he doesn't—he doesn't know how terrible I can be."

"So tell him."

"Dick—"

"I'm not kidding. You love him, don't you?"

"I..." There was no use tiptoeing around it, anymore. "Yes. More than I realised."

"Then be honest with him. Trust him. As smart as you are," Dick said, smiling, "I think he'll surprise you."

"Assuming he'll even talk to me."

"Hey, everything worth getting in life has to be fought for. You did mess up, there's no getting around that. But it's up to you to decide if that's how you want to leave things. And I've never known you to be a defeatist."

"I'll—think about it." Tim leaned his head on Dick's shoulder. "Thank you."

"Anytime. I did mean what I said about making this a regular thing. I'm sorry I've been hard to reach, lately."

"I get it. Basically everyone on the planet wants a slice of your time."

"I'll always have a slice for you, though. You only need to ask. Okay?"

"Okay," Tim said, smiling.

They stayed up there until the stars came out.

****

Snowflakes spiralled from the sky, dissolving when they touched the Gotham pavements. Tim drew his hoodie up and scaled the building's fire escape.

"ETA 1 minute," Barbara's voice said in his ear.

"Thanks, Oracle. I owe you one."

"Doesn't everybody." She sighed. "Good luck, Tim. I hope you two sort things out."

She clicked off. With Oracle, there was really no telling whether she was still listening in or not, but she'd been trying to be better about that. Especially with Cass, whom Barbara would do anything for.

And there was Cass now, flying through the air with unmatched speed.

"Batgirl," he called.

She slowed, tumbling onto his roof. She did not remove her mask.

"I'm busy."

"I know, I just—I need to talk to you. Babs says you've been patrolling for two days straight."

"Some of us... care about saving lives."

"I didn't quit Robin because I wanted to stop saving lives."

"And yet," she said mockingly, "you did stop."

Tim breathed through the frustration. "Look, I know you're mad at me. I'd be mad at me too if I were you. But you're the one who said I never explain things, so here I am, trying to change that. Will you let me?"

She huffed, turning away. "Two minutes."

"I'm sorry," he said. "About everything. I said I'd help you, and I really didn't. I probably made things worse."

"You did."

"Cass—"

"Why?" She swung around, fists balled. "Why promise to help? If you just wanted to sab—sabo—"

"Sabotage?"

"I know the word! You always think you know better than me."

"I don't mean to." Tim swallowed. "Shit, let me start again. You were right, Cass. All of this has been about me losing Steph. I was petty and stupid and—and a little insecure, I think. About you."

"Me?"

"You make her happy," he said, quietly. "You make her happier than I ever did. And she... she loves you, Cass. I wasn't lying about that."

Cass shook her head. "No. Stephanie loves you. You're good, and you get along with everyone, and you're smart, and I'm... not."

"If there's anyone who's good, it's you, Batgirl. You're the best of us."

"Stephanie is the best," she said. But she took off her mask, and now Tim could see the tears gathering in her eyes. "Even if she loves me, it doesn't matter. Cain loved me. I loved him. That didn't stop him doing... what he did."

"You're not him. Neither is Stephanie, obviously. This isn't the same as it was before."

Her lips wobbled. She sat at the edge of the roof, curling in on herself. "I know. But I can't get past it, Tim. When I was travelling, I... got trapped in my memories. I saw Cain again. He's always there. My past is always there. I don't know how to let it go."

"I'm—not going to pretend I have the answer to that, but we all have our pasts. Steph does, too. Would you blame her for not getting over her dad?"

"Of course not. But she never... did what I did."

"What about me, then?"

Cass shot him a look. "You never killed either."

"Not directly, but if I hadn't been around, so many people wouldn't have died. Like Dad, and—Stephanie."

His voice tripped over her name. After all these years, he still couldn't talk about her death without choking.

But out of everyone, Cass understood. She got up from her perch, went over to him, and wrapped them both in her cape.

"Thanks," he said. "I just—I get it, Cass. I get feeling like you don't deserve the person you love. It's why I ruined things with Bernard. The thing is, we can tell ourselves we're doing the right thing, that we're being brave. But it's fear underneath, isn't it? The fear of being seen for who we really are. The fear of being rejected for who we really are. You can lose to that fear, if you want to. But we both know you never lose."

"You really think... I make her happy?"

"I do. I know better than you, remember?"

"Shut up," she said, shoving his cheek away.

Tim grinned. "Sorry, bad joke. And I'm sorry about being an asshole. I don't think you're stupid. You're so infuriatingly good at everything that sometimes I wish you were stupid."

"It's fine. I guess... I'm an asshole too." She looked down at his wrist. "I didn't mean to hurt you. It's just instinct, sometimes. Trying to stop doing that."

"We're vigilantes, Cass. A little rough-housing never hurt anybody."

"It's just unfair because... you're so weak."

It was Tim's turn to shove Cass' face away. She laughed, letting go of her cape, their little cocoon loosening around them.

"And stupid," she continued, "for thinking Bernard wouldn't love you for who you are. You're good, like I said. Easy to love."

"I wouldn't say easy." He slung an arm around her. "We could go back and forth all day, though. Let's just accept we're both insecure assholes who couldn't take a compliment if we tried."

"Yes," she said, giggling.

"You should talk to Steph, though. I really think you're good for each other. I'll try not to be so weird about it, this time around."

"If I do, then... promise you'll talk to Bernard. Tell him I'm sorry for being the reason you were so stupid."

A roundabout apology, the Cassandra Cain special. They'd gone through this song-and-dance a few times; mostly the fights had been about Stephanie, especially after her death, but sometimes they were about the silliest things. Tim imagined that was just what having a sister was like. All things considered, it was a pretty sweet deal.

He squeezed her shoulder and promised.

****

Tim found Damian in the garden, sketching on a swing under the eaves of an oak tree. Sunlight squeezed through the canopy and fell in splotches on the ground. Alfred was curled up at his feet, napping in one of the sunspots.

"Hey."

Damian slammed his sketchbook closed, jerking upright. "To what do I owe this displeasure, Drake?"

"Are you busy right now?"

"Would you go away if I said yes?"

"Nope."

He sat down on a large, smooth rock, placing him on eye level with Damian. The kid was tense, fingers curling over the cover of his sketchbook.

"Thomas will be here in a few minutes," Damian said. "And he is not very pleased with you at the moment."

"Yeah," Tim said, wincing. Duke could hold a grudge like no one else, especially when it came to people who'd hurt Damian. "This won't take long. I just wanted to... about what I said, I... I'm so—"

"Don't."

"What?"

"You were about to apologise," he said, scoffing. "I thought you understood our relationship better than that."

Tim blinked. "You don't want me to say sorry?"

"It is enough that you know you were in the wrong. Don't get sentimental on me, Drake."

"I'm not—ugh, you're right. I don't know what I thought I was doing."

"You are on your apology tour," Damian said, waving a hand. "It was expected."

"Apology tour?"

"Thomas predicted it. He is usually right about these things, you know."

God, these kids. "Okay, then. What else did Duke say I'd do?"

"He said—" Damian flushed. "Nothing else."

"Hm." Tim grinned, suddenly, springing up from the rock. He collapsed onto Damian, wrapping him in a bear hug.

"Drake!" Damian cried, voice muffled by Tim's shirt.

"Shush. We're having a moment."

"This is not a moment!"

"It so is." Tim laid his cheek on Damian's head. "If you're not going to accept an apology, then this is what you're going to get."

"You've been hanging around Richard too much."

"Oh, please. As if you don't hang out with him more."

"You're the one who calls him every week!"

"And you're the one who's somehow always there when I call!" Tim's mouth dropped open. "Wait. Are you—do you do that on purpose?" 

Damian's face was beet red. "None of your business."

"Holy shit," he said, forgetting Dick's lectures about cursing in front of Damian. "You're jealous of me."

"I am not! I thought you were here to apologise, Drake!"

Tim pressed his face into Damian's hair, unable to stop the giggles bubbling up his chest. "Damian, Dick loves you so, so much. I'd even venture to say you're his favourite. You have nothing to worry about, trust me."

"...But you know him better than me," Damian said, shoulders slumping in Tim's hold. "And he always talks about you."

"When we're together, Dick always talks about you."

"Really?"

"Really. It's super annoying."

"Hmph." Tim untangled himself just enough to see Damian's face, which was creased in deep thought. "I suppose Richard was trying to get us to know more about each other. He is always talking about the two of us 'bonding'."

"God, you get hit with that, too? He really doesn't understand what we have going on, does he?"

"Not a bit."

Tim smiled. He did enjoy these verbal spars with Damian, even if they came off like he was beefing with a fourteen-year-old. But as much as they both enjoyed the rapport, Damian was still a kid. And Tim had still said something awful to him.

So he crushed all the self-conscious protests in his head and said, "I love you, Damian. Just making sure you know that."

"You are an utter embarrassment," Damian growled, shoving his face into Tim's chest. Presumably it was to hide his deepening blush, but Tim took the opportunity to squeeze him in a hug again.

There was a flash to their right. They both froze.

"Gotcha," Duke said, stepping out from behind a tree. "You guys are the worst pair of brothers I've ever met, by the way. Emotional constipation from both of you is off the charts."

"Duke, delete that. Duke."

"Do as he says, Thomas!"

Duke's grin was malicious. "No can do, Dami. I could probably get a hundred bucks off Dick for this. 200 for the recording of Tim saying 'I love you'."

"You recorded that?"

"Of course. I told Damian it would happen, too. You bats are so very predictable." He pocketed his phone. "Well, do I get to join in, or what?"

Despite the mountains of horror and embarrassment, Tim and Damian made space for Duke to wriggle in. The three-way hug slowly turned into Tim and Duke crushing Damian to death, but judging by the smile on Damian's face, he didn't mind too much.

****

"I can't do this."

"Breathe," Dick said over the phone. "You've got this. If it goes badly, I'll get J'onn to wipe your memories."

"Not funny."

"It's a little funny."

Tim pinched his nose. "I have no idea why I thought calling you would be helpful."

"Me neither. I lucked into my relationship with Kory, if I'm honest. But I do believe you've got this, kiddo."

"I'm twenty-two."

"Still a kiddo to me," Dick said, warmly. "Now hang up and make your move before you turn twenty-three."

Tim obliged, rolling his eyes. Then he took a steadying breath and knocked on the door.

As he waited, Tim tried to map out all possible exit routes. There was the elevator behind him, although that would entail a painful few seconds of standing around. There were the stairs—all four flights of them—which he could scurry down fairly quickly. There was the window to his right which would shatter with a well-placed elbow.

The door swung open, and all his thoughts vanished.

Bernard had a towel around his shoulders, droplets still clinging to his hair. He was wearing a tank top that accentuated the muscles in his shoulders, his arms.

God. Tim hoped he wasn't drooling.

"Oh," Bernard said. "It's you."

"Yeah. Can I, uh. Come in?"

"Why?"

There was no hostility in his voice, but no warmth, either. It was like Bernard was talking to a stranger.

Pain bloomed in Tim's chest. "I just... wanted to talk. But it's fine if you don't want to. I'll just—I'm sorry for wasting your time."

"Wait," Bernard said, before clamping his mouth shut. He clearly hadn't wanted to say that.

Tim was frozen to the spot, half-turned to go.

"You can—you can say what you want out here," Bernard said. He stepped into the hallway and shut the door behind him.

That meant they were fairly close now, the scent of Bernard's shampoo making Tim feel a little dizzy. He didn't dare take a step back, though, keeping his eyes on the ground.

He'd had a script, all typed up and everything. He didn't remember a word of it now.

"Um. I wanted—"

"Hold on." Bernard drew himself up. "Actually, I have something to say first."

"Oh, uh. Sure."

"Could you—look at me?" Tim raised his head, meeting Bernard's gaze. He almost flinched—Bernard's blue eyes were lit with a rare, seething fury. "I was going to seek you out first, you know. Because I really couldn't bear never seeing you again."

"Bern—"

"Let me finish. I thought, when I saw you, I'd be begging you to take me back. But seeing you now, I realise that I—I'm fucking pissed." He raised his hands. "Like, I'm just so fucking mad I spent all that time trying to be perfect, trying to deserve you, because god knows I don't deserve to be dating the Robin. I tried so hard to be the easiest person in the world to date, but yeah of course I was mad about you flaking and never telling me anything and forgetting our dates and sometimes you can be so obtuse about your relationships and to be honest I hate that Italian restaurant you always want to go to and your haircut is, like, so ugly from the back it's embarrassing!"

Bernard gasped. His hands dropped to his sides, and he looked away.

"That's, uh—that's all I wanted to say," he mumbled.

Tim touched the back of his head. "Is it really that bad?"

"It's atrocious. I can't believe you're allowed out in public."

"Well, I... I'm glad to know how you really feel."

"Oh," Bernard said, voice trembling, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said all that—"

"No, I mean it." Tim reached forward, remembering himself at the last second. "Truthfully, I felt like I was the one who didn't deserve you. You were so patient and kind about everything, even when I was the equivalent of a human dumpster fire. And I was worried that—that you just didn't see all those awful parts of me. That I was tricking you, somehow."

"That was you trying to trick me?" Bernard said, his mouth twitching upwards.

"As you said, I can be a bit obtuse about my relationships."

"I guess I am, too." Bernard bit his lip. "What I said on the boat, about you being my good luck charm. I never meant to pressure you or anything. I just wanted to tell you how much you meant to me."

"I know, and it's the sweetest thing ever. It's just that I'm—messed up. I've been messed up for a long time, and I can't promise I'll get better." Tim rubbed his arm. "But it still wasn't fair of me to make the decision to break it off. You were right, Bern. I didn't trust you, not in any way that mattered. I should've told you about Robin. I should've told you I felt like I was drowning, sometimes, trying to hide that I wasn't good enough for you."

"Tim..."

"I'm laying it all out there because I'm deeply, madly in love with you, and I want us to start again. But you should know that if we do, I might make a lot of the same mistakes, or a whole host of different ones. One day, I might even get you killed." He blinked away the tears forming in his eyes. "But I'm trusting you, Bernard. If you want me to go, I'll go, no hard feelings. If you want me to stay, I'll stay. It's your choice."

His vision was so blurry by now he couldn't see Bernard's expression. He opened and closed his fists, trying to stall the nausea rising in his chest. This was the end, wasn't it? At least he'd been honest for once. At least he could say he'd tried.

Then there was the gentle pressure of a thumb brushing his cheek. Wiping a tear away.

"Tim," Bernard said, "you're such an idiot."

Something soft pressed against his lips. An arm wrapped around his waist, and then he was being tugged close, like a planet in the orbit of the sun. He melted into Bernard's arms, into the kiss, into everything it meant.

"Stay," Bernard whispered, in the space between kisses. "Please."

"Okay," Tim said. "Okay."

****

In the morning, Tim watched as Bernard searched through his dresser for a spare T-shirt. He tossed Tim one with a bat emblem splashed across the front.

"Very funny," Tim said, slipping it on.

"You're lucky my Robin merch hasn't come in yet. By the way, is it true that Batman puts spyware in all his merch, to stay up-to-date with things in the city?"

"No way. That'd be an incredible amount of data, for one, and not exactly the most ethical thing a superhero could do."

"So Batburgers also aren't secret Robin recruitment grounds?"

"Of course not. Don't tell me you believed that, Bern."

"Whatever," Bernard said, sulkily closing his dresser. "It's not like I spent all my allowance there for years on end or anything."

"You're such a dork," Tim said, smiling fondly.

Bernard jumped back onto the bed, dragging Tim down with him. He peppered a few kisses along Tim's neck.

"Got anything to do today?" Bernard asked.

"Yeah. His name's Bernard Dowd, you might've heard of him."

"Where do you pull your lines from." Bernard laid his head on Tim's chest, humming contentedly. "Well, I'm yours for the day, babe. What do you wanna do first?"

"I was thinking we should talk."

"Oh," Bernard said, disappointment evident in his voice.

Tim traced a pattern on Bernard's cheek. "We'll get to the fun stuff later, I promise. But I told you I'd be more honest this time around, and there's no better time to start than now. You can ask me anything."

"Alright. Bruce Wayne is Batman, isn't he?"

"Yep."

"Knew it! And your siblings? They're all the various Batkids?"

"Yes."

"Two home runs for me," Bernard crowed. "Three, technically, since I also knew you were Robin. How'd you get the gig, anyway?"

"It's a little complicated." Tim gazed up at the ceiling. "I've always been a big fan of Batman and Robin, particularly Dick—Richard Grayson, the first Robin—and, well, I knew who they were based on a flip he did. Then the second Robin, Jason, died, and Bruce didn't take it well. I intervened, and I kinda got the job."

"Whoa. That's kinda sad."

"It's fine, Jason's all better now. He's the Red Hood."

"What?" Bernard shot up, peering down at Tim with wide eyes. "The Red Hood is your dead adopted brother Jason Todd?"

"Yeah. He's an asshole."

"That's all you have to say about it?"

"It's nowhere near the craziest thing that's ever happened to me, if you can believe it."

Bernard sank back down. "Wow. I need some time to process all of that."

"Then I'll ask you a question, if you're okay with it." At Bernard's nod, Tim said, "are you really set on reconnecting with your mom?"

"I mean, yeah." Bernard shifted, facing away from Tim. "I know what you're going to say, but she's my mom. I'll regret it forever if I don't give it a shot."

His shoulders were tense. Tim reached out, squeezing the one closest to him. "Okay."

"You're not—you're not going to yell at me?"

"I've already made it clear how I feel," Tim said, sighing. "But it's your choice, not mine. I'll support you no matter what you do."

Bernard exhaled. "Thank you, Tim. That means a lot."

They stayed like that for a while, Tim's hand on Bernard's shoulder, until Bernard turned to face him again.

"You said your siblings were the rest of the Batpeople. What about Stephanie, then?"

"Oh, she—she's one of the Batgirls. She used to be Spoiler, and she was even Robin for a bit."

"During the gang war."

"Yeah." Tim shuddered. "You were—right, about her being involved. But it wasn't her fault. All of us... we made a lot of mistakes, with Steph."

"She's really important to you, isn't she? Like, more than you ever told me."

"Yes, but—"

"Are you still in love with her?"

"No." Tim held Bernard's gaze, putting every ounce of conviction into his voice. "I didn't break it off with her very well, and—and she does still mean the world to me, but I'm not in love with her anymore. Not in the way I love you."

The next few seconds of silence felt like torture. Then Bernard took Tim's hand, lacing their fingers together. "Okay."

Tim's chest deflated, relief flooding his body.

"One more question, though."

"Yeah?"

"What you said, about feeling like you were drowning."

"It has nothing to do with you," Tim said, quickly. "You didn't do anything wrong. It's just me, like I said."

"That's what I'm getting at. Do you... feel like that often?"

Tim blinked. "Overwhelmed? Yeah, I guess. Recently there's been a lot going on, so it got a bit worse, but I can handle it."

"Are you sure you don't want to talk to someone about it?"

"Like a therapist?" Tim snorted. "I'm fine, Bern. Seriously. I know what being suicidal feels like, and this isn't that."

A stricken look crossed Bernard's face. Tim cursed his stupid mouth, backtracking immediately.

"I didn't mean that. Like, I wasn't ever actually suicidal, y'know? Everyone's felt like it's better for them to die sometimes. Uh, not that I ever—"

"Tim." Bernard's free hand came to rest on Tim's cheek. "You said you'd be honest with me."

"I am being honest. It's... it's not a big deal."

"And if I said I've felt the same way, is it also not a big deal?"

"You?" Tim's stomach churned. "You mean that time with—the cult?"

Bernard nodded. "That time was... not great for me. My parents were getting on my case more than I thought possible, I'd failed one of my courses, and it was all spiralling out of control. I wasn't even out. I was going to join the campus queer collective, but I chickened out at the last minute."

He closed his eyes. This was the most Bernard had ever said about that period in his life. Most of the time, he'd shrugged Tim's questions off with a that doesn't matter anymore. "It felt like I was underwater. I knew I should've been upset, but I didn't feel anything at all. I was just numb. So the pain was a welcome change. It wasn't about enlightenment, or whatever the others said. It was just about feeling something again."

The words drifted in the air. Tim moved closer, drawing their interlocked hands onto his chest.

"Do you still feel like that?" Tim asked.

"Not since I met you." Bernard opened his eyes, smiled. "Which is how I know you don't have to feel like that forever. If you don't want to see a therapist, that's fine, but keeping it inside isn't going to change anything. You don't need to hide how you're feeling from me, okay? Even if you think it's stupid or sad or whatever. I can handle it, and I want to handle it."

"I'll try," Tim said. "You can talk to me too, you know. About those things."

"Yeah. I will."

Tim watched the slow rise and fall of Bernard's chest. How wonderful, that he was alive. That they were both alive.

"It's your turn to ask a question," Bernard said.

Tim hummed. "Actually, I think it's time we stop talking."

"Finally," Bernard exclaimed. He got up, planting a hand on both sides of Tim's head. "You sure know how to make a guy wait, huh?"

Tim laughed and kissed him.

****

Cass tugged him along, her grip like a vice. As they rounded the corner, Tim huffed out, "slow down!"

"Weak," she threw over her shoulder.

"We were just at an all-you-can-eat burger buffet. We shouldn't be running!"

"Burgers are fuel. Makes you strong."

"Maybe for you. All I want to do right now is hurl."

The desire to vomit increased as Cass' destination became clear. She pulled him to a stop in front of Scram's Diner, the sign in the window reading STEAK DINNER: $14.

"You're kidding." Tim grabbed Cass by the shoulders. "Please don't tell me you want more food."

"Yes, but not here. This is for you."

"I don't really—"

She shoved him through the doors. The smell of onions and frying oil smacked him in the nose, and he whirled around to avoid hitting anyone. Cass definitely needed to work on controlling the power of her shoves.

"Sit in the back," she said, pointing to a table in the corner.

Tim eyed her suspiciously. "What if I don't?"

"I'll carry you."

He sighed, trudging obediently to the table. He was a few paces away before he realised it was occupied.

"Oh," he said.

Stephanie's head whipped towards him. She stiffened, face going pale.

"What—what are you doing here?"

"Um, I don't—"

Cass shoved him again, and he fell awkwardly into the seat across from Stephanie.

"Cassandra," Stephanie said, voice low. "What is this?"

"You were both sad. It was annoying."

"I should go," Tim said, getting up.

One glare from Cass and he plopped back down.

"You two... need to talk. It will be good. If you need me, I will be eating more burgers with Bruce."

With that, she turned on her heel and left. Tim willed himself not to curse after her retreating back.

"That Batghoul," Stephanie muttered.

Tim stared at a piece of gum stuck under the table. "I, uh, had no idea where she was leading me, I swear."

"I know. You're really good at avoiding me when you want to."

"I wasn't—I'm sorry."

"Ugh, whatever. I don't have to stay for this."

But she didn't move. Tim hesitantly lifted his head and found Stephanie glaring with burning intensity at what, presumably, was another piece of gum stuck under her side of the table.

"Steph," Tim said, clearing his throat. "Look, I... I'm really sorry about what happened. About what I did. I shouldn't have—god, I don't even know where to start. That night on the boat, I was so—I barely knew what I was feeling. And that's no excuse, and you don't have to forgive me, but I just wanted you to know that I don't love you anymore."

"Oh, I know that. You think I don't?"

Stephanie's voice was full of loathing. Crap, Tim was messing this up so bad.

"I didn't mean it like that. I meant that I don't love you romantically anymore, but that doesn't mean I never did. I did love you, Steph. With my whole heart."

"You have a funny way of showing it."

"I—"

"Ready to order?" A waitress stood by their table, pad at the ready.

"Um, just black tea for me. And—" Tim glanced at Stephanie, who was still glaring at the table. "Do you... still love mashed potatoes?"

"Oh. Yeah."

"One cup of black tea and a plate of mashed potatoes, coming right up." The waitress headed towards the kitchen.

"You remember," Stephanie said.

"Well, yeah. I, uh, actually tried to make some for you back in the day. It didn't really work out, though."

"You messed up mashed potatoes?"

"Didn't mash them enough," Tim said sheepishly.

She huffed. Tapped her fingers on the table. "Look, I'm not—I mean I am mad at you. But most of all, I'm just... confused. About how you feel about me, and how I feel about you. Everytime I thought we were on the same page, it's like you changed your mind."

"That's because I kind of did." Tim ran a hand through his hair. "I was also confused, Steph. I missed who I was when I was with you. And it's partially because we were young, and so many things hadn't happened yet, but I also just missed you. I still do."

"Why didn't you just say that, instead of pulling all that bullshit?"

"I felt like I—couldn't. I mean, I'm the one who broke up with you. I didn't have a right to ask you for anything."

"So instead you did what you wanted to without asking me."

Tim flinched. "Yeah, I—yeah."

"That's how it always is with you," Stephanie said. "You never treat me like an equal. And I might've deserved it when I was younger, but I know I don't deserve it anymore."

"No, I—I don't mean to do that. Or I guess it feels like that because I... I'm the one who's not good enough for you, really."

"You? Not good enough for me?"

"I mean, I know I wasn't the best boyfriend, but seeing how happy you were around Cass—I don't know. I got a bit jealous."

Stephanie's mouth opened. "That day in the restaurant. That's why you were being so weird?"

"Not one of my greater moments," he said, wincing.

"God. You were jealous of me. That's—wow."

"It's not that shocking."

"It is to me. Back in the day it was you with all the girls, and me pining after you like some sad romance heroine." She shook her head, meeting his gaze for the first time. "We've really changed. Haven't we?"

"We have," he said.

The waitress came with their food. Stephanie ate a spoonful of mashed potatoes as Tim blew on his tea, the steam curling forward.

"You're not cruel."

Stephanie coughed. "What?"

"You said that on the boat, but you're not. And you're not any of the other things you said you were."

"You don't have to do this, Tim."

"If that's why you haven't told Cass you love her, then I do." Tim put down his cup. "You deserve love more than anyone in the world, Steph. You make it so easy to love you."

"No, I don't," Stephanie said. "I blow up too easily. Or I fall too hard. I'm too much, in general. Certainly too much for you, Boy Buzzkill."

"Just because I made you pay for soda one time..."

"We'd just saved the whole store from getting robbed, okay? I deserved that soda."

They both chuckled. She leaned her cheek against her palm.

"I'll think about it," she said. "I guess I... could give dating her a shot. I owe Cass that much."

"You'll make her so happy. I know you will."

"Not jealous anymore, huh?" A teasing lilt lifted the ends of Stephanie's words.

"Maybe a little. But I'm trying not to get in my own way so much, or yours. To... let this go, like you said."

"I did say that." Her gaze turned distant. "Tim, do you—regret it? All that time we spent together. It didn't end up amounting to anything, really. You'd probably have been happier, skipping straight to Bernard."

"Probably," he said, mulling it over. "I don't think so, though. I wouldn't be who I am now if I hadn't loved you. I'll never regret that."

"Ah." She smiled suddenly, that radiant, beaming smile he hadn't seen in years. "Ditto."

They ate in silence after that. It wasn't a bad silence—it was peaceful, like they could just exist around each other, be in each other's orbits without crashing. Not the strain of the past year, but not the giddy ecstasy of how they used to be, either. This was something new.

"You know what I'm thinking about?" Stephanie said, finally, clearing her plate.

"What?"

"Those fortunes." She waggled her spoon at him. "You never applied to Ivy Town, so I never got to hear what yours was. If you even remember it."

"I remember. It was, "true love stories never have an ending". I'm pretty sure that's ripped from somewhere, but it's nice, I guess. What was yours?"

"The best is yet to come," she said. "It's so corny it has to be true, right?"

"Obviously," he said, smiling back.

****

“You know I’m not a professional."

Tim shifted on the chair, a garbage bag crinkling around his neck. "I trust you, Dana. Plus Gotham barbers are so expensive these days."

"Aren't you the adopted son of a billionaire?" Dana ran a comb through his hair. "Or do you still need me for pocket money?"

"I'd never say no to a few extra dollars," he said, grinning.

She spritzed his head with water. "Just wait a week, then, when I start asking my support group for donations to my son's haircut fund."

"How is the support group going?"

"Really well. It's nice to... talk to people who get it." She pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "Thank you for suggesting it, Tim. And the book club Stephanie sent my way is also going wonderfully. When I move into my new place, I think I'll start hosting."

The sun slanted through the windows of the houseboat. Dana had stayed with him for the past two weeks, but she was moving out at the end of the month. Didn't want to encroach on his privacy, as she'd put it. More likely she just needed to feel like she was standing on her own two feet again.

"Speaking of Stephanie," Dana said, picking up a pair of shears. "I'm getting lunch tomorrow with her mother tomorrow."

"Really? That's awesome. You won't, uh, gossip about us, will you?"

"No promises."

"Aw, Dana."

"Don't pretend you kids don't gossip about us, either. I'm sure Bernard's heard all about my inability to play Wii Sports."

"He'll see it first-hand in about an hour. Although it's the Nintendo Switch, now."

"I'll probably suck at that just as much." She hummed. "I can't wait to see him again, now that he's your boyfriend. I promise not to embarrass you too much. Just one story about the time you wore that green—"

"Please, no."

Dana laughed. "Hold still, sweetheart, or your haircut's going to be worse than it already is."

"I guess you and Bernard can bond over your hatred for my old hair," Tim grumbled.

"Oh, we'll have lots to bond over, I'm sure." Tufts of hair fell onto the newspaper-covered ground. "He makes you happy, doesn't he?"

"Yes. Very."

"I'm glad." She put the scissors down, brushing strands off his shoulders. "You deserve it."

They cleaned up together, throwing the bag and newspapers in the trash. As Tim swept up the last of the hair, he said, "Dana?"

"Hm?"

"Do you think..." He gripped the broom. "Do you still think Dad would be proud of me?"

Dana hesitated. "Oh, darling, I—he loved you. I'm sure of that. I think he... he would've come around."

"Yeah. I figured."

"But I'm proud of you," she said, coming over to wrap him in a hug. "So proud of you. Always."

He leaned against her chest. "I love you, Dana."

"Love you too, more than anyone in the whole world. Now, let's make something special for Bernard before he gets here, yeah?"

She went into the kitchen, and Tim followed.

****

The doors slid open. Tim entered the Batcave, the low hum of voices sounding from the training area. Bruce's grunts, interspersed with Dick's light-hearted jabs.

"....you know," Bruce was saying.

"Yeah, I do. Because he told me. Maybe if you weren't such a brick wall all the time, he'd have told you, too."

"Hn."

"Don't 'hn' that. I'm actually giving you advice. You've gotta be a little vulnerable yourself, if you want your kids to open up to you."

Bruce sighed. "I know. It's too late now, though. He might never want to be Robin again."

"Ahem."

Both their heads whipped towards Tim. Dick grinned, while Bruce looked like he wanted to turn tail and run.

"Speak of the devil," Dick said, coming over to ruffle Tim's hair. "Oh, you got a haircut! Aw, I kinda liked the last one."

"You're the only one, apparently."

"There's no accounting for poor taste." Dick pinched Tim's cheek before strolling off, calling over his shoulder, "have fun, you two!"

Then it was just him and Bruce. Bruce, who was staring a hole into the floor, like a child who'd just been called into the principal's office.

"Tim," Bruce began, clasping his hands together. "It—occurs to me that I may not have been as attentive to you as I should have been recently. That was my error, and I am extremely—"

Tim leapt forward and hugged him.

"Oh," Bruce said. He gave Tim's head a few awkward pats.

"I wasn't really mad at you." Tim smushed his face into the bat symbol. "I was mad at a lot of other stuff, and you were an easy target. I kinda lost control of myself. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I... know how easy it is to lose control like that."

"Yeah, but you were only trying to help."

"We both know I often make things worse." Bruce chuckled, the sound reverberating deep in his chest. "You've helped me patch things up with the others enough times, haven't you?"

"Well, that's what I'm here for. To be your Robin."

Bruce cupped his cheek. "Is that what you want, Tim? You don't need to stay Robin for me. For anyone. Whatever you want to be, you should be. I'll be proud of you no matter what."

"I know," Tim said, leaning into the touch. "I'm not sure if I want to be Robin forever. I don't know what else I'll do, or who else I'll be, but... but that's okay, I think. Not knowing. For now, this is what I want. If you'll have me back?"

Bruce grunted an 'of course'.

"Okay," Tim said, stepping back and smiling up at him. "I guess we should head out to patrol now."

"Wait."

Bruce marched to the computers. He pressed a few buttons on the keyboard and a digital map of Gotham appeared, numbers fluctuating in the top right corner.

"What's this?" Tim asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It's a spectral map of Gotham, tracking changes in temperature, radiation, or anything else associated with the technological ability of transportation."

"Transport—" Tim stumbled forward, gazing up at the map. "You made this for me?"

"I meant what I said before, Tim. What happened to that boy was not your fault. But the fact you can't let it go—that you're still looking for him—is part of what makes you a wonderful hero. I want to support you in that."

"He's probably dead, Bruce. Everyone says so."

"That's what they said about me," Bruce said, "but that didn't stop you, did it?"

Tim swallowed. "Thank you. I'm lucky... to have a dad like you."

He pretended not to hear Bruce choke back a sob.

****

"Holy shit," Bernard breathed. "You're real."

Jason rolled his eyes, spreading peanut butter on a piece of toast. "Yeah, yeah, soak it in."

The park rang with the sounds of dogs barking, children shrieking, and the shouts of street vendors selling hot dogs. Tim sat back on the blanket, watching a large flock of birds peck at the grass. Damian had been throwing bird seeds around for the past ten minutes.

Duke, giggling, snuck up and sprayed him with a water gun.

"Thomas!" Damian cried, abandoning the sack of bird seeds to chase Duke across the park.

The picnic had started as a double date idea. Ever since Stephanie and Cass had gotten together, Cass had been begging for a double date, no doubt something she'd seen on one of her reality TV shows. Bernard had been all for it, and they'd picked a secluded spot in Lewis Park for the occasion.

But then, of course, Duke had heard about their plans and insisted on meeting Bernard as well. Where Duke went Damian followed, and where Damian went Dick was also invited (naturally). With Dick came Barbara, and then they'd felt bad about excluding Jason (they meaning Dick and Babs, with Bernard applying the final puppy dog eyes that crushed Tim's resolve).

It was a miracle Bruce hadn't managed to tag along, with Kate and Jean-Paul, or, hell, Harvey in tow. Tim was counting his blessings here.

"Hey, Timbo. Mind explaining who that guy is?" Jason jabbed a finger at Bernard, who was engaged in animated conversation with Babs and Dick. "Is he some new brother nobody told me about?"

"Gross! That's my boyfriend!"

"Boyfriend?" Jason's jaw dropped. "You're gay?"

"Bisexual—wait, I'm like, one hundred percent sure I told you this before. You seriously forgot?"

"Sue me for not remembering every detail of your life," Jason said, rolling his eyes again.

"So you don't know Steph and Cass are together, either?"

"I knew that. I have eyes."

Tim's gaze drifted to the blanket across from them. Cass had a triple-decker burger in one hand, a colossal burrito in the other, and a container of cold noodles in her lap. She'd stopped eating, though, to listen to something Stephanie was whispering to her. By the time Stephanie leaned back, they were both grinning from ear to ear.

"Ew," Jason muttered, turning away.

It wasn't that different from how they were before, if Tim was being honest. They'd always loved each other in loud, obvious ways, drifting towards each other no matter what obstacles they faced. It didn't make Tim feel queasy anymore. There was only a warm feeling in his stomach, like he'd downed a cup of hot chocolate.

Bernard returned to his side, and a different warmth coursed through him. "Tim, your family's so cool. I can't believe Barbara has an eidetic memory!"

"It's less cool when she's using it in arguments against you."

"Eh, it's still awesome. I wonder whether she knows if the aliens in Area 51 are real?"

"Bern," Tim said, knocking their shoulders together, "please keep conspiracy talk to a minimum. My family's made up of the most paranoid people in existence."

"No wonder you fit right in," Bernard said, planting a quick kiss on his cheek.

Across the lawn, Damian had caught up with Duke and was now riding around on his back. He did look adorable like that, arms circling Duke's neck and legs kicking gleefully in the air. Dick joined them, attempting to carry them both on his back and promptly collapsing under their weight. Duke and Damian dissolved into hysterical laughter.

"Idiots," Barbara said. She went to rescue Dick and Jason followed, presumably to taunt him from a closer distance.

Bernard leaned his head on Tim's shoulder. "I wish I had siblings," he said wistfully. "This seems like so much fun."

"Only sometimes," Tim said, though he couldn't help smiling.

Cass, after finishing her food, went over and started doing push-ups with Duke and Damian on her back. At Tim's encouragement, Bernard jumped up and sat on her back as well—not that it made much difference. Tim had once seen Cass pull a loaded truck behind her with one hand.

"That's my Spookygirl," Stephanie said, watching her fondly.

Tim crawled onto the other blanket, settling down next to her. "You gonna join them?"

"Later. I do actually want to eat something before Cass comes back."

"God, she stole 90% of my chips already. I can't believe she hasn't entered an eating contest yet."

"Don't give her ideas," Stephanie said, snorting. The sun gilded her face, bathing her in a golden glow. "This is nice, Tim. We should do this again."

"You two can pick the place next time."

She nodded, then stilled. "This is—too good to be true, isn't it? There's no way this is my life. It feels like a dream."

"It is a dream," he said. "But it's still real, Steph. And it's yours."

She smiled at him. "Thank you, Boy Wonder."

"Thank you, Spoiler. For everything."

She laughed, getting up. "C'mon, you big sap. Let's go terrorise the rest of 'em."

She held out her hand, and he took it. The feel of her hand in his was like coming up for air.