The biting wind spun itself in circles through the small, awkwardly shaped park, stirring the wet leaves up into the air and throwing them against the ankles of the young man leaning against the lamp post. His hands shoved deep in the pockets of a stained denim jacket, he seemed to be entertaining himself by kicking a soda can back and forth across the stones. The dented cylinder bounced back towards him, and he popped it up into the air before juggling it with the top of his foot for a few minutes. Another gust of wind whipped through the park and the can was blown off course, missing the young man's foot by a few inches and clattering to the ground. He pulled one hand out of his pocket to plough the hair back out of his face before tracking the can down and punting it back over to the light post.
As his shoulder came back into contact with the post, his eyes tracked up towards the far end of the park. The sound of sneakers slapping the wet ground echoed off the nearby buildings as another young man, more of a teenage boy actually, jogged in his direction, a backpack bouncing on his shoulders. He was clothed in the uniform indicative of one of Gotham's many private high schools, the collar of a white shirt peeking out from beneath a crimson sweater that had been folded up at his elbows. A black blazer had been tied around his waist, and there was white pinstriping at the ends of the knotted sleeves.
The boy stumbled to a stop just a few feet from the other man, slipping a little on the slimy leaves. He folded forward and braced his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. The older man watched him with a raised eyebrow, rolling the can under the sole of his foot.
The schoolboy looked up a him with a relieved looking smile. "I didn't think you'd show." He said finally.
"Well, you thought wrong." The other responded, popping the can up into the air again and punting it over the fence and into the bushes.
A few moments later, the two of them were sitting beside each other on one of the park benches, the man in the denim jacket with his elbows hooked over the back of the bench, and the schoolboy with his head bowed and his hands tucked between his knees. An awkward silence hung between them before denim boy dropped his head back and released an annoyed groan.
"You better not have called me here just to catch up Tim. I've got shit to do." He complained, rolling his head towards the schoolboy.
Tim opened his mouth, but then quickly closed it again, gritting his teeth. He pursed his lips, and his jaw worked up and down as he seemed to be tasting his words.
Sighing, denim boy rocked forward and tucked his hands back into his pockets as if he intended to stand.
"Jason, you haven't seen Dick recently have you?" Tim suddenly blurted.
Jason tripped on the uneven ground and blinked back down at the younger boy. "What?" He spat at him.
Tim was staring up at him, his lower lip held tightly between his teeth, his eyebrows furrowed, and his fists clenched atop his knees. As Jason stared back at him, he almost thought he saw tears welling up in the boy's eyes.
"I said, have you seen or heard from Dick at all recently?" Tim repeated slowly and deliberately, the fingers on his hand clenching and unclenching rhythmically.
Jason raised an eyebrow at him and settled back on his heel. "Nope." He replied flatly.
A look of despair flickered across Tim's face before his head bobbed down on his shoulders. Jason didn't see it, as he was looking up and away at a newspaper page floating precariously on the wind. After a few more minutes of silence, he tapped his foot impatiently and reached up to scratch the back of his head.
"Is that it? Listen Tim, I've got shit to take care of. You could have just called-".
"God dammit Jason, Dick is missing! Can you pretend to care at all?" Tim shouted suddenly, slamming his fist down on the bench in a burst of anger.
Jason blinked, his fingers freezing on the back of his head. The back of his neck went suddenly very cold, but not because of the wind. He turned towards Tim slowly, pivoting on the ball of his foot. "What?" He said slowly.
Tim sat with his head bowed and his fists clenched beside him as fat tears fell from his eyelashes and splashed onto his knees, staining his slacks dark. His shoulders trembled, and as Jason was looking at him he sucked his lip into his mouth again and shook his head quickly.
Jason tilted over closer to him. "Tim." He said. "What?"
"About two months ago Dick told me he needed to go and take care of something. He didn't want Bruce to know, but he said he needed me to be his point of contact." Tim sniffed and rubbed his eye with the palm of his hand. "It's been almost three weeks since I last heard from him, and he won't answer on any of the secure channels. I even reached out to some of Bruce's contacts in other cities, and, well, you for example."
Tim raised his head finally. A few more tears rolled away from his puffy eyes as he did, dripping off his chin. Jason watched him, still feeling that uncomfortable cold across the back of his neck. He could have sworn it had spread a little. Tim looked drained, exhausted even.
"Jason, I'm really worried." Tim said heavily. "Dick doesn't do this."
Jason realized that one of his hands had been hovering in empty air and tucked it back into his pocket. He took a step closer to Tim, paused for a moment, then sat back down on the bench beside him. He leaned back and stared up at the distant grey sky.
"He didn't say anything about why he left, or where he was going?" Jason asked, still looking up at the clouds.
Tim shook his head quickly. A drop of moisture hit Jason on the cheek, but he couldn't say if it was from Tim or from the possible rain.
"I'm sorry to drag you out here." Tim sniffed again. "There just wasn't anyone else to ask." He sat up and let out a sad laugh. "I really hoped that he was with you." He choked out.
Jason let out a snort. "If he was with me he'd be dead. I can stand about ten minutes of that guy before I want to strangle him." Tim seemed to bristle, and Jason almost wished he hadn't said anything. Almost.
"What do you think?"
"Eh?" Jason pulled his eyes away from the sky.
"You've known him longer than I have. You know him better. If he needed help, what would he do?"
Jason chuckled again. "I know him better huh?" A flood of uncomfortable memories began to creep into the back of his mind. He grimaced and pushed them away. Jason kicked his feet out and hopped up and off the bench, before turning and beginning to walk away.
"What I do know is that it's starting to rain and I'm not in the mood for a cold."
"J-Jason?"
Jason turned slightly and jerked his head indicating for Tim to follow. "You coming or not? I'll leave you."
"Ah, I'm coming!" Tim jumped up from the bench and ran up beside Jason, shimmying his backpack up onto his shoulder again.