Doubting Aside
A Word: Ibid.
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Dinah Lance is a terrifyingly open woman. She takes to Tim with a quickness that Tim's Gotham bred suspicion doesn't like one bit, and, if the way Babs is smiling is any indication, it's an amusing sight to see.
"He'd be delighted," Dinah repeats as she smooths a lock of hair out of Tim's face. There's only the slightest hint of misgiving in her eyes as she obviously looks down at Tim's small frame. There and gone in a matter of seconds. "I think Connor would like a chance to see what being a teacher is like."
And maybe make a friend. Tim hears the unspoken lament that he's only overheard her saying a hundred times while hiding in one of Babs' rooms or closets. "Well, then, I'm sorry he's going to try on me."
"You'll be fine," Babs rolls up, a printed packet of airplane tickets in her lap as she reaches up to pinch Tim's cheek. All sharp nails and sharper smile. "I just want you to get the basics so we can really start running you through the grinder here. It always works best if you get some outside teaching before getting it all beat out of you."
That makes no sense to Tim in a way that is kind of terrifying as Dinah laughs. Her arm, all muscle, wrapping around Tim and pulling him into a playful hug as the woman says, "We'll make a fighter out of this one in no time."
~
Star City is light and open in a way that sets Tim on edge. They're not even out of the terminal and Tim's already got a ten page list of differences. He wonders if Star City is that much different, or if it's just Gotham that's different. He's pretty sure it's the latter when he takes a deep breath and starts coughing.
"You've never been out of Gotham before, have you?" Dinah steers him to baggage as Tim coughs and realizes that, yes, the very air smells different. Her voice is sad as she pats his back lightly. "I guess that's what makes you so good at what you do. You'll get used to it in a bit."
"Thanks," Tim breathes out as he seizes control of his lungs and forces himself to take calm, measured breaths. Doubtful that the off scent will be something he can ever get used to.
~
Watching Connor move is not at all unlike watching a dancer. He moves across the mat lined room with a fluidity that Tim's only really seen in Dick Grayson until now. His body knows the moves and each one is made without thought. One flowing into another in a mesmerizing dance that doesn't look deadly until you imagine another person in front of him. Connor spins to a stop with one last strike. His body low to the ground and tense as he breathes it all out. His body going lax before he stands up and looks expectantly over at Tim.
Tim looks at Connor, looks at the perfectly smooth mat, and looks back. "I'm reasonably sure that I can't walk across the room without tripping over my own two feet."
Connor doesn't look upset or frustrated that his student is proving to be reluctant. He gives Tim a small smile and lays a hand encouragingly on his shoulder. "Well, you have to start somewhere to learn things, Tim. Just try it. It will give us an idea where to start."
Tim stares up at that smile and doesn't do anything but nod. He knows himself too well to trust what might come out of his mouth. He already has the sinking feeling that he's going to be paying for these next few months in ways he thought were behind him. Tim manages a rough approximation of the set that Connor had shown him by the end of the day. Jerky movements and stumbling steps that Connor praises him for even as Tim picks himself off the floor. Face a red mask of mortification as they get called in for dinner.
That night, Tim dreams about Connor's dark skin under his hands.
~
Tim wakes early. 3AM early because his last job had been taking photos of a late night crowd that only surfaced around 4AM, and he still hasn't gotten back into the habit of staying up late to sleep late. Awake, he moves out of the guest room and makes his way through the house. It's silent in a way that's comforting to Tim as he makes his way to the practice room.
There's a window and enough moonlight comes in that Tim doesn't bother turning on a light. He settles himself into the opening stance Connor had patiently corrected him on until he had it down pat. He moves. Going through the motions as best he can remember them, and he thinks about it. Thinks about what each move is meant to do. How he can use each one if he needs to.
Without the weight of Connor's eyes it's easier. Tim disconnects from the movements. Lets his mind retreat just a bit and his body move without thought. Tim practices until a door in the house clicks open, the sound sudden and loud as a gunshot. He stops and notices the light coming in through the window is from the sun and not the moon. His arms ache a little but Tim feels almost peaceful as he goes into the house and finds Connor coming down the stairs.
"You're awake," Connor smiles and seems almost as surprised as he is pleased.
"I've been waking early at home for work," Tim holds onto that sense of peace as Connor bends down to slide on some running shoes. It's just after six and they're the only ones up, so no one notices the way Tim looks everywhere else but the man.
"I usually run until breakfast. Would you like to come?" Connor asks as if it's fine whichever way Tim answers. As if this isn't something that Tim might actually need to do before even beginning to approach the levels he needs to be at for this training.
"Sure," Tim stares at his bare feet and shrugs as he turns to go back up the stairs. "Just give me a bit."
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