Showers are marvellous things. They provide an opportunity to wash the dirt and grime left by the day from our bodies, but also provide the chance to wash our minds of the day's stresses and contemplate philosophical theories. It's a time when our minds become clear and our thought processes are straightforward and everything left buried for later examination finds its later. So some nights, showers take a lot longer than is necessary to simply lather up and rinse.
Tim was having one of those nights. A night when you stand under the pelting, too hot water with your head pressed against the cold tiles and silent tears dribbling from your eyes mixing with the falling water washing over you. A night when fingers knot in soaked black hair while dark thoughts race through your mind. The soft gasps that leave him as he tries to suppress the wailing that threatens to escape his throat are barely audible over the sound of the roaring water. Nobody's here to hear him cry though. He's in a hotel room in Israel where no one can hear him. Just like the water from the shower, his world has steadily been falling down around him. Conner, Bruce and Bart were all dead and Dick had stolen the Robin mantle from him to give to Damian. A part of him had been stolen and a large portion of his life made invalid. Not to mention he was the only one who believed Bruce was still alive, everyone else kept telling him he was just in denial, but he wasn't. He knew that. Knew Bruce was alive. Or maybe he wasn't and Tim really was in denial like everyone told him. Everyone else around him seemed to be acting so much more logically than he was. It was thoughts like this that made his mission seem foolish and made him question everything he was doing. Thoughts that made him feel like he should turn right around and head back to Gotham. But Gotham held nothing for him at the moment and if Gotham didn't want him, then where did he fit in? He tipped his head back, hands rubbing over his face, the water blasting his face almost painfully and the water was definitely too hot. He wasn't a fool, he was a detective, and even if no one believed him, he would not stop here. He had nothing else left aside from this one mission that was giving him reason, so he would continue to pursue it. When he could prove that he had not been wrong, everyone would be proud of him and his life would start to put itself back together. So he would keep going. He turned the water off and shook his head. Hands running up his face again and pushing his hair back to wipe his mind clean. He stepped out of the shower, dried himself and put on track pants and a t-shirt, before opening the door to the bathroom. That was the signal. The door opens and the mind closes off to any insecurities that might linger there. Nobody's here to know that he just took a 45 minute shower.