A/N: This is our crack pairing. One obsesses over Labyrinth. One obsesses over Robin. They love both. Then we saw March 27th's robin(underscore)daily on livejournal. Go look. Tra-la-la.

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Sarah is the opposite of Steph. He's noticed this since the day they met. For one, Steph was blonde with green eyes, she was lively and confident and as messed up as he was. Sarah is a brunette. Her eyes are sort of green, but not with the same vivacity of Steph's. He's not belittling Sarah, of course. He's rather fond of her. They have acceptable conversation and…having her as his girlfriend makes him look normal. There are some tricks to seeming like a normal nineteen-year-old boy. Going to college and having a girlfriend are top on the list.

Sarah finds, of course, that there are some tricks to seeming like a normal nineteen-year-old girl as well. College isn't a problem, she honestly doesn't mind learning. As for a boyfriend, Tim makes a fine one. They talk about books, about movies, about history. Interesting things. They occasionally kiss. They go on dates. There isn't really any pressure though - Sarah likes that.

Tim is a nice boy, very attractive in the All-American Boy way. Cropped black hair, blue eyes... she can't help but compare him sometimes. She knows Tim keeps secrets, she can tell by the way his eyes are darker than usual sometimes, distracted...she knows she looks the same sometimes. It is a mutual understanding, though they've never talked about it. It's for appearances. It's for friendship. It's not for... for anything else.

She notices how Tim genuinely seems to feel bad when he skips out on a date though. She isn't really sure where he runs off to, and doesn't want to think about it. She would probably come to the conclusion of 'another girlfriend' and can't deal with that. What she doesn't know can't hurt her since, in the end she doesn't really think that's the case. He is always sorry about it the next morning. He always comes and gets her to take her out for breakfast. If he can't do that, he has flowers sent to her residence. He's the classic man: thoughtful, tall, dark, and handsome. Okay, he's actually an inch shorter than she is, but three out of four isn't bad.

Except for when it's pouring down rain. It smells like sewage and she's in an outdoor café under a garishly striped umbrella.

"Ma'am, you can come sit at the bar, if you really want to keep waiting?"

It is nine o'clock. Tim was supposed to have met her at six. She picks up her purse, shoulders slumping slightly. Even under the umbrella, she's gotten wet, and by now she is nearly sopping.

"No, I'm just leaving," she replies dully. It isn't that she's that disappointed. It's just...the rain. And she's already had a bad day. She'd lost an important paper, and her professor refused to give her an extension on it, not believing her excuse. At her part-time job, some kid had thrown up all over her shoes, which had been brand new. On her way back to her dorm, to get ready for her date, she had sworn she'd seen...well, it didn't really matter, she hadn't - a second glance had proven that. All the same, it had left her melancholy and introspective, she'd been hoping a date with Tim would cheer her up.

Oh well. Whatever. She begins to walk away from the cafe, when a soaking wet Tim runs up to meet her.

His clothes are as disheveled as his, usually perfectly groomed, hair. He looks paler than usual in the dark and the rain and the streetlights.

"Sarah, I'm-I'm sorry I'm late," he gasps out. "Well," he laughs weakly. "Late might just be an understatement."

There'd been a robbery at the bank and there were hostages. The police had tried to shoot him and then Red Hood had shown up and shot a cop. He'd had to fight Hood. (He'd thought he'd left Hood behind in…) He is pretty sure one of his fingers was broken. Then the hostages and the robber had still been waiting for his attention. One hostage ended up dead and the man with the gun tried to make a break for it. And it was fucking raining and Sarah was waiting and Tim thinks he might have knocked a few of the guy's teeth out and…He sighs and hugs Sarah.

"Tim, are you okay?" Sarah asks as she returns the hug gently, worried. Tim is perfect. Always. She's admired that so much, she never could manage to be so prepared, so on top of things. She's tried to, but there's always something here or there that's out of place. Her head, usually, high up in the clouds. So, for Tim to show up, stuttering and disheveled and...is that blood?

She pulls back and touches his cheek very gently, frowning when her fingers come away sticky. "Are you alright, Tim? - do you need to go to a hospital? Oh, you didn't need to worry about being late to some stupid date!" She pulls him into another light embrace.

He laughs again and it isn't particularly comforting. "Oh, God," he snorts. "No! Don't worry I mean, what's a date supposed to be anyway? All parades and candy and 'tra-la-la'? This is what it's all about." He's cold and they're standing in the rain like morons. He'd said the same stupid uncomforting thing to Steph and she'd been beaten up and he'd gotten a free burger. "Sarah?"

"Yes," she answers, shocked by his behaviour.

"Let's get burgers, okay?" He's on an adrenaline high, he even bounces on his toes a little.

'All parades and candy, and tra-la-la?' Tim had said, and Sarah had blanked out. Out of the conversation, a habit she'd tried to abandon several years ago.

'Nothing? Nothing? Nothing, tra-la-la?'

She pales considerably and nods in answer to whatever Tim had asked her. Burgers?

"Sure, that sounds fine," she replies distantly. Her mind is filled with stairs, and pleading, mismatched eyes. Wincing, she shakes her head abruptly, as if that will make the thoughts go away.

"If you don't want burgers, we can get something else," Tim offers, misinterpreting her gesture. It isn't often doesn't understand her, but this is also her secret. She has one, just like he does.

"Oh, no, it's not that - burgers are fine! I was just, uhm, thinking."

Tim nods, his hand still on her shoulder. He understands, she thinks - in a way. Not, of course, about her trip through the Labyrinth, and the various little psychosis it left her with. (Fear of small dark spaces, fear of peaches, fear of kissing dwarves - though that one hadn't interfered with her life as much as the others). But the secrets, she thinks he understands. The things she keeps to herself, doesn't share with anyone, not even her friends in the mirror. She thinks he has those same sorts of secrets. Things he doesn't share with anyone. She doesn't think Tim shares much of himself with anyone, or if he does, (or did) certainly not with her. She doesn't mind. She knows enough about him. She knows him better than he thinks she does.

He does the half smile that he does. She's not sure she's ever really seen him bare his teeth in a full grin.

"I think you've already gotten the gist of my day." She hasn't, but this is part of their game. "What about you? Besides being stood up by your date?" They're still walking in the rain without an umbrella, and people are staring.

"It was," she pauses, debating whether to tell him now or not. "I've had better," she decides. She doesn't want to complain to him now. But he's there, and he's interested. He's the closest thing she's got to a friend in this world. "I lost a term paper, and some kid at work threw up on me." She shrugs and gives him a little self-depreciating smile, something she's picked up from years of acting. Not that she does much acting anymore.

(Really, Sarah, when are you going to grow up? You can't keep pretending. Oh, don't give me that look like I'm your wicked stepmother. I just want you to be reasonable.)

She doesn't think she'd want the fame now.

"You needed a good shower then," Tim jokes. He jokes quite often, but it isn't to be funny. It's a smoke screen for how absolutely not funny this whole thing is. Sarah feels a little flattered that he tries for her. They stop at a corner, a car goes screaming past, flinging filthy, dingy water into their eyes. The restaurant is close. Sarah thanks God. "Date from Hell," Tim says, reading her like a book.

She laughs. "Could be worse. Could be raining."

Sometimes Tim is funnier when he's not trying. He gives her another tight smirk, the type that doesn't reach his eyes. They've been dating for almost a year and he's never given her – or anybody for that matter – a real smile. He doesn't favor his false smile on just anyone, though, so she doesn't mind.

They make it inside at last and the waitress gapes at them, mouth open and everything.

"Do you mind if we sit in the corner booth?" Tim wonders. "And towels," he adds after considering. The woman just nods and wanders off. Tim pulls Sarah gently to the seat. "Are you really cold?"

She shakes her head, her teeth are gritted to keep them from chattering. Yes, but no. She is, but it doesn't matter. She'll dry out soon enough, under the hot lights and towels.

"How was your day? Other than," she trails off and gestures to his face. Now that they have better lighting she can see him better – the fingers of his right hand are twisted oddly, and the smallest one is purple. She'd hoped he would go to the hospital right away, but she knows that nagging him to will do nothing. He never does anything unless he decides to, which is usually when he needs to.

He's staring at her. The other people in the diner probably mistake the look as 'dreamy' or 'love struck'. He wants people to think that. Sarah almost wants to laugh. She knows all his tricks! She gets that same look on her face though. It's the same dreamy look, which is rarely for the reasons people assume. But then again, how many people assume you're thinking about a fantastic adventure you went on when you were fifteen - thinking about a man who you might have fallen in love with but sure can't admit it because it isn't healthy and it's not normal and it's probably not even true.

"It…." Tim's deciding whether to tell her. "Mmm. An old friend came to visit me. It was…Old friend, wow, could I make myself sound more dated?"

He's dodged. Touché, Tim, touché.

"Oh." She knows the rules. "Was it a pleasant visit?"

"He…Honestly?" He really looks at her. His pupils are kind of blown so his eyes are dark and shifty, but at least they're focused on her. "No. I left Gotham for a reason."

"Oh." She can't really think of anything else to say. "Well, hopefully you won't have to see him again for a while. Is he staying in town?" She looks genuinely interested, but then again - she is. She's the sort who never asks a question unless she honestly wants an answer.

"No, I think I scared him off," Tim puts on his fake grin all of a sudden. The stunned waitress approaches and hands each of them a towel. "Could we get some coffee please?"

"Sure, uhm, sure."

"He's the past and I would rather he stayed that way," Tim murmurs. His voice intimates that he knows Sarah feels the same way but he can't outright say that because that would shatter the illusion. (Peaches…chairs…bubbles…)

"I see. That's good. That you scared him off, I mean." Once again, she's back in her faraway state, trailing off from conversations and reality as easily as blinking. After a few moments of staring off into space, not noticing how Tim regards her curiously, she blinks and shakes her head hastily, once again snapping herself out of memories.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I guess I'm just tired. Did you say something?"

"What would you like to eat?" he repeats. She can tell from his voice that it hadn't been the original question.

"I…a hamburger and French fries would be great. Lots of French fries."

"What is it with women and using potatoes products as comfort foods?" he wonders quietly.

She blinks and then beams at him. "I don't know...they're good. I thought it was always chocolate, though."

Sometimes, Tim is glad that Sarah is so ordinary, so normal. He doesn't have to worry about her dying - well, not as much - or any of the other various hazards that come with being a superhero. It's a relief. She doesn't have all the pathos associated, either. She's so refreshingly...simple.

Sometimes, Sarah wishes she were a lot more normal.

Tim gets a Swiss-mushroom burger, because he's a sucker for reminiscence. He eats all of it. Sarah barely touches her hamburger but eats both their orders of fries. Their coffee is long gone, having done its job to warm them up. It's close to eleven o'clock, and the rain has finally stopped.

He walks her home and kisses her in the doorway. He isn't very good at being soft and gentle. She kind of likes his hard edges though. They remind her in pleasant ways of a certain cruel man who moved the stars for her, even though he'd sworn not to.

They part ways.

Once in her bedroom, she stares at her vanity mirror.

Once in his bedroom, he stares at his uniform.

Disclaimer: We do not own the Goblin Kings nor the Robin Wings.

Title: One swallow does not make a summer. Aristotle (384 BC - 322 BC), Nichomachean Ethics