And who will take pity in his heart, and who will feed a starving sparrow? ~ Simon and Garfunkel
It's Tim's first Thanksgiving as a member of the Wayne household, and he has to admit that he's surprised at the decorations. Bruce isn't the kind of person Tim would think would decorate the house for holidays, so he's pretty certain that the leaves and miniature turkeys and bunches of wheat are all Alfred's idea.
Rather absentmindedly, he picks up one of the sheaves of wheat and begins to rub it between his thumb and forefinger. It's dry and crackles slightly beneath his fingers. There isn't even any of the clean, golden scent of wheat left; this is dead and has a slightly musty smell. It probably sits in the attic all year except for a single week in November.
Tim sighs and sets the wheat back down on the table, glancing around. He feels alone in this big house where he doesn't belong. It shouldn't be this hard to transition. He's been coming here almost every night since he was just a kid. He knows Bruce, he knows Dick, he knows Alfred; these people are already his family, except now they're legally his family.
Maybe he only feels this way because this is the first Thanksgiving he's had to celebrate without his father. Tim knows that the first holidays after losing people you love are difficult, but knowing and expecting isn't preparing him for the reality of it. It's difficult to find something to be thankful for right now, when even the wheat decorations are dead.
The smell of Alfred's cooking wafts into the room, and his stomach grumbles quietly. Tim sighs. He's hungry – his body needs sustenance, and he's reacting instinctively to the smell of good food cooking. It smells delicious. It smells like Thanksgiving.
It smells like home, and Tim doesn't want to eat.
He's hungry and not hungry at the same time. Although his body is saying that it needs food and it would quite like to sample some of Alfred's savory dressing, his heart is whispering that he's too beaten up, too shaken, too out of place. Eating Thanksgiving dinner without his father will make the turkey taste dry, the dressing too mushy, the potatoes tasteless. Because Tim knows how his emotions affect his taste buds; he's been choking down old comfort foods for a month now, barely able to get past the memories.
He can hear Dick laughing in the kitchen – Alfred is probably trying to fend him off with a spoon. Tim sighs and sits down on the couch, wondering if this will ever feel normal to him.
Bruce suddenly enters the doorway and stands, smiling at Tim. It's a surprisingly open smile, and Tim can't help but return it, though Tim's is a little weak thanks to the way he feels.
Bruce crosses the room quietly and sits down on the couch next to Tim. "It's okay," Bruce says.
"What?" says Tim.
"It's okay to be upset," says Bruce. "Holidays are difficult after you've lost someone you love."
Tim looks up at Bruce a little incredulously, because this is Bruce talking about feelings. "Yeah," he finally answers, sighing.
Bruce stands. "It's almost time for dinner," he says, extending his hand, "Let's go eat."
Tim takes the hand offered as he gets up, smiling more genuinely when Bruce leads him into the dining room, already set.
The food smells delicious, and he will be eating Thanksgiving dinner with his father.
A/N: I've never been sure exactly how long Tim's dad was dead before Bruce adopted him or what time of year Jackson Drake was killed. And I also don't know how long it took before Connor and Bart and Stephanie and Bruce all "died." So basically what I'm saying is I'm sorry if the timeline is screwy.