There was not a time more dreary in Gotham than winter. The only time it's peaceful was when the snow first falls, but it wasn't long before the fluffy white blanket became gray and slushy. It seemed this city has no choice but to contaminate and destroy anything it touches, whether that be snow or families.
Dick took a slow sip from hot cocoa, watching the blizzard outside. He used to think snowfall was pretty when he was a kid; magical even. He and his mom would watch the snow for hours while on the road with the circus. Now it was just a painful reminder of the past. He curled up tighter in front of the large bay window. The manor was quiet today. He was planning on driving back to Bludhaven, but it seemed soon he going to be snowed in. Great.
It's not that he hated the manor. It's just that there were too many memories. Just like with the snow.
Subconsciously Dick wiped the chocolate mustache away from his mouth. He could practically hear Jason giving him trouble for it. He wished he could easily push the memories away.
It was difficult to not think about Jason during the winter.
Little Wing had always detested this time of the year. Since he had grown up on the streets, winter just made his life all the more complicated. Snow hurt his chances of survival. Dick understood, but it made him sad for his brother. It ached his heart each time Jay talked about his childhood. To try to make up for it, Dick had promised to take Jason on a ski trip; maybe teach him to snowboard. Just the two of them.
That was years ago.
Dick had intended to follow through with the promise. But he kept forgetting and putting it off and rescheduling and then…
And then he couldn't.
Dick squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his forehead against the freezing glass. He had been so stupid. How hard would it have been to make time, or set a reminder on his phone, or… or… something?
Now he would never know if he could change Jason's opinion on the snow and winter. Lil' Wing had been so excited too, though he never admitted it because he was so headstrong, but Dick could tell because big brothers could always tell but he didn't— he couldn't—
"Your marshmallows are melting."
Dick stiffened and opened his eyes. Tim was nervously hovering a few feet away, playing with the sleeve of his baggy Star Trek sweater and avoiding eye contact. He had a piece of paper in one of his hands. Probably homework, Dick guessed. Kid was always studying.
Tim's eyes nervously flickered from his sleeve to Dick. "Sorry, is now a bad time? I can—"
"You're fine, Timmy," Dick reassured. Tim still looked hesitant. "I'm never too busy for you."
You were too busy for Jason, a small, wicked voice whispered in his mind. Dick shoved it away.
Dick smiled in what he hoped was an assuring manner. He lowered his feet from the cushions and patted the space next to him, inviting the teen to join him. Tim slowly sat down.
Dick swirled his mug; the marshmallows were, in fact, nearly gone. He hummed, trying to think of something to say to make Tim feel more comfortable with him.
"You want some cocoa?" he eventually asked. "Al is almost back from the store, but I'm sure I can manage making some. Albeit, I'm not the best cook. The only two people in this family who know how to use the kitchen are Alfred and—"
Jason.
Dick pressed his lips together in a straight line and focused on watching his melting marshmallows. Tim seemed to decide against mentioning Dick's unfinished sentence even though he obviously noticed — because he's Tim and Tim notices everything — and instead went back to fiddling with his sleeve.
After a few moments of awkward silence Tim opted to speak again. "You okay?"
"Hmm?" Dick said, pulling himself from his thoughts. He stared. It took a few moments for the question to register. "Oh, yeah. I'm fine." He shrugged. "Just thinking." He cleared his throat. "What are you up too?"
"Nothing much," Tim said. He waved his hand dismissively. "I tried doing a puzzle I found in the game room. I finished it only to find the middle piece missing."
"The ginormous one of the Mona Lisa?" Dick asked. Tim nodded. "Yeah, I've tried putting that together a few times. There's always been a piece missing."
"Why not get rid of it?"
"It belonged to B's mother. He's… sentimental about it, I think."
"Oh." Tim glanced back at his brother. "Were you thinking about something sentimental?
Dick nodded.
Tim got that nervous look on his face he always gets when he's overthinking something. "About… Jason?" Before Dick could even answer, Tim quickly added, "sorry, I know he's kinda a forbidden topic and you don't have to answer if you don't want to but I was just wondering because you looked really upset and I know that itsRobinsjobtomakesureandIjustwantedto—"
"Tim, breathe. it's fine! Really." Dick set a hand on his brother's shoulder. Tim tensed. Dick dropped his hand. "Jason's not a forbidden topic." Tim gave him a look of disbelief. Dick shrugged again. "Sure, the old man might get a lil' upset when he's mentioned—"
"So do you."
"Alright, alright, B and I both might get a little upset when Jays mentioned, but that's not because he's a forbidden topic. We just… we just really miss him." Dick turned back to the window. The snow seemed to be slowing down. "Talking about him can make us sad and… I don't know…"
"Guilty?" Tim suggested.
"Yeah." Dick agreed. He hated how dry and emotionless his voice was. "Guilty." Dick couldn't see the current Robin's face from where he was looking, but he knew Tim was probably wrestling with what to say next, afraid to say the wrong thing and ruin the whole conversation.
"It… it wasn't your fault. You know that, right?" Tim offered, awkwardly patting Dicks shoulder.
Dick forced a smile. He took the kids hand and squeezed it. "Thanks Tim. That means a lot." Tim relaxed, evidently relieved. "But it's not about that."
Tim frowned. "Then what?"
Dick glanced back out the window for a minute, thinking, and then looked back at Tim. "Jason hated winter," Dick said finally. Tim nodded, but Dick knew he was confused. "He hated snow, too. So I promised to take him on a ski trip to show him how fun it could be, but…"
"You never got the chance," Tim finished.
"Yeah. Sorta." Dick blew on his hot cocoa. It was probably getting cold and didn't need it, but it gave him something to do.
"That's not your fault either."
"It kinda is," Dick sighed. "I kept making excuses and forgetting and putting off and eventually…"
Tim didn't finish that sentence for him. He didn't need to. They both knew what Dick was going to say.
"It still wasn't your fault. And I'm sure Jason was never resentful about that one trip," Tim said. Dick held back a snort. Jason had always been resentful about something or other. "I mean, you did a bunch of stuff together. Right?"
Dick avoided Tims eyes. He took a long sip of his cold cocoa and tried to think of a good response. Truth is, he didn't get to do a lot of stuff with Jason. Dick had just moved to Bludhaven when Jason got adopted and Dick was just so desperate to prove that he didn't need Bruce anymore that he barely came by, and when he did his visits were usually short and far in between. They did some things together, sure, Dick had attempted to befriend Jay and be somewhat of a brother, but he never felt like he did enough. He was always too busy. Too forgetful.
"I guess," Dick eventually answered. He didn't bother to hide the bitterness in his tone.
"What about this?" Tim shoved an old piece of paper into his hands. "Jason loved this enough to hang it on his wall. That means something."
"You went through Jason's room again?"
"Bruce wasn't home."
"Why would you go through his room?"
"Bruce wasn't home."
Dick huffed and glanced down at the wrinkled piece of paper. He had been in Jason's room only once since he died, and that only because he was looking for Tim and found him snooping. "Investigating" had been the term Tim used. Evidently looking through Jason's room had become one of Tim's pastimes.
Dick carefully unfolded the piece of paper.
His heart jumped into his throat when he saw Jason's tidy handwriting.
In big block letters was written "JUST IN CASE." Under that was a carefully drawn map of their backyard done colorfully in colored pencil and markers. There was a red dashed line leading through the yard, ending in a big X near their greenhouses. Even more surprising was the sticky note attached in Dicks own handwriting. It read: "Don't forget! :)."
Don't forget? Don't forget what? Is this a map? Map to what? Dick studied it, confused. But then he remembered and his heart jumped once more.
Gotham. 12 years ago.
"You do realize this is pointless, right?" Jason muttered, peering over Dicks shoulder as he dug through the metal box.
"Most fun things are!"
"How's it fun if it's not gonna pay off for, like, a bajillion years?"
"Ten years," Dick corrected, his smile not falling from his face. "And technically not even that." He grabbed a bunch of small leather pouches and passed a green one to Jason (who stared at it skeptically), a red one to Bruce (who was intently pouring over a 10,000 piece puzzle) and a grey one to Alfred (who was dusting and accepted it with a thanks). "Great! Now, each of us have to find something meaningful to put in here."
"This is a waste of resources," Jason griped.
"You'll be grateful you did it when you turn eighteen and we open it," Bruce said, not looking up from his puzzle.
"Thanks, Bruce," Dick said. He turned to Jason. "It'll be fun, trust me. There's nothing better than nostalgia."
"Maybe for you," Jason said bitterly, "you have happy memories to look back at."
The room went silent at Jay's words. Bruce looked up from his puzzle, frozen. Alfred stopped dusting. Dick was slightly horrified.
He hoped it didn't show on his face.
"Well, that's why we're doing this," Dick said slowly after a moment. "We're making happy memories."
"Jay, chum, you don't have to overthink it. Just put in something that you'll laugh or smile about later," Bruce said.
Jay thought for a minute, his brow scrunched up just like how Bruce was when he was deep in thought. Then he snapped his fingers. "I'll put a piece of that puzzle in there, that way everyone who does it will get all the way to the end only to realize they can't finish it! It'll be hilarious!"
Dick laughed and Bruce showed a rare smile. Alfred turned back to dusting, smiling.
"Unfortunately, Master Jason, the point of this is that it must remain secret. That way we can all remain surprised when we open it," Alfred said. "Right, Master Dick?"
"Right, Al!"
"Come on," Jason groaned. He narrowed his eyes. "None of you better steal my idea."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Bruce said dryly, digging through the remaining puzzle pieces.
"You can put in whatever you want, Little Wing," Dick said, ruffling Jason's hair. "You can make something, or—"
"Yeah, whatever," Jason snorted. He held his bag close to his chest and stomped out of the room, muttering about "stolen ideas" and "stupid activity."
Putting together the time capsule, Jason complained the whole time.
When Dick and Jason walked to bury it together, just the two of them, Jason complained the whole time.
When Jason complained that they weren't going to remember it and that it was stupid, Dick wrote "Don't forget :)" on a sticky note and stuck it on the kids head. Jason's complaining increased.
So, all in all, Dick assumed he hated the activity. When Jason asked where the art supplies were after, Dick didn't think anything of it. No one really thought about it again for a long time.
"Are you two going to kill me?" Bruce asked, deadpan and staring at the giant shovel Dick was holding.
Dick grinned and tossed the gleaming snow shovel from hand to hand. "No, though I could use the life insurance money."
Bruce rolled his eyes and continued helping Alfred unpack the groceries. "Well, if you're here to do chores to get your allowance, someone already came and shoveled the driveway. We pay someone to do that."
Before Dick could argue that he was a grown man with a job and didn't need an allowance, Tim said (or tried to say): "Whaegunahdoodeeuhtheticapsule."
"I can't understand you, son." Bruce passed Alfred the last of the vegetables. He turned away and began collecting the plastic bags and stuffing them in each other.
Tim rolled his eyes and pulled his giant scarf down off his nose and mouth. "We're gonna go dig up the time capsule."
Alfred paused what he was doing and stared at them. A knowing smile pulled on his lips.
"What time capsule?" Bruce grunted, shoving some of the bags under the sink (they didn't belong in that cupboard, Alfred would have to move them later. At least B was trying).
Tim looked at Dick expectantly. He gulped. Mentioning Jason to Bruce can go one of two ways. One ending in emotional turmoil. The other also ended in emotional turmoil. But there was a little grey area where this actually could go well for a little bit. Here goes nothing.
"The one Jason and I buried." Dick did not expect his voice to sound as meek as it did.
Bruce froze. His eyes met Dicks, his expression blank and unreadable. "Jason?"
"Yeah, remember?" Dick replied. "Like ten or so years ago we—"
"I remember," Bruce said. He frowned and stood up from where he was crouching. "I had forgotten about that."
"That sounds like a marvelous idea," Alfred said eagerly. "Allow me to fetch my hat and coat."
Bruce's frown deepened as Alfred left. He leaned on the kitchen island and stared at the wall so intensely it seemed like he was trying to burn a hole in it with his eyes.
"Do you even remember where you buried it?" There were no more clues in B's tone than there were in his expression.
"Jay made a map," Dick said quietly.
Tim held it out. Bruce took the paper, studying and analyzing it carefully, as if checking to see if it were a fraud. After a few minutes, a wry chuckle escaped his lips.
"Of course Jay wrote it down," Bruce said.
"A laugh? From you? Someone call the doctors," Dick said. He mentally kicked himself for ruining the mood.
"Are you okay, Bruce?" Tim asked. Even as young as he was, Tim was already much better at reading people and situations than Dick.
"Yeah, fine," B said, his expression once again going blank. He cleared his throat. "Let me go grab my jacket."
"Here," said Alfred, reappearing with three bulky winter coats. He handed one to Bruce, put one on, and handed the last to Dick.
Dick gestured at himself. "Al, Tim and I already are wearing—"
"It's much too thin, Master Dick. You'll freeze."
"Five steps to the West," Tim said. He paused to wipe the bombardment of snowflakes off of the map.
"Just say left," Dick groaned, trying hard to keep the frustration out of his tone.
"Well it says West," Tim argued,
"Why did he have to write it like a treasure map?" Dick asked no one in particular.
"Perhaps it was due to the fact that we were reading "Treasure Island" at the time," Alfred suggested.
"Oh, yeah." A sad, nostalgic smile fleeted across Bruce's features. "He loved that book."
"What other books did Jason like?" Tim asked, obviously desperate to learn more about his predecessor.
"Mainly classics," Bruce answered, his eyes sad.
Dick trudged through the snow and peered at the map in Tim's hands. He looked up, down at the map, up again, and rolled his eyes. They had passed the capsule twice already. That was pretty embarrassing for a family full of detectives.
"Its by this tree," Dick said, dragging the shovel behind him. Bruce pauses mid-sentence in his story about Jason's bookshelf collapsing under the weight of all the books he collected and followed Dick towards the big oak tree. Dick was all for them actually talking about Jason instead of dodging around the subject, but it'd be nice if it could wait until they were inside. Where it was warm.
The ground was frozen, so it took a few tries before they could break the ground. After some mild bickering, Bruce and Dick were finally able to use their combined weight to shove the blade of the shovel through the dirt. A few minutes of struggling and complaining later, the shovel clanged against something metal.
"That must be it!" Tim said excitedly. He was turning red around the nose.
Bruce and Dick both grabbed a side of the box and yanked it up. Snow and dirt slid off the sides of the small metal container. Dick grinned. The cold was biting his cheeks, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He was too excited. They dropped the box on the ground and Dick kneeled down, his jeans probably getting soaked by the crunchy snow. He ripped off his gloves so he could unhinge the latch. Dick threw the lid back eagerly.
Inside were four small leather sacks tied together by string. No water or dirt had gotten inside the box. Of course it hadn't, Dick spent hours making sure it was perfect.
"Cool," Tim breathed, a white cloud covering his face.
Dick grabbed the pouches and stood up. "Al, here yours, B, yours, here's mine, and here's… " He blinked for a moment, before passing it to his brother. "We'll do that one last. Why don't you hold onto that, Tim?"
Tim looked taken aback. "Uh, yeah, of course." He held it protectively to his chest, basically hiding it under his giant red mittens.
"Alfred, why dont you—"
"I'll go first," Alfred said, cutting Bruce off. He pulled on the drawstring. A huge smile erupted on his face, something Dick had not seen in quite a long time. "Oh my."
"What is it?" Dick asked. Tim stood on his tippy toes and craned his neck past Alfred's shoulder to try to get a look.
Alfred's grin grew as he pulled out an old, wrinkled piece of ordinary paper and unfolded it. Bruce took one look at it and groaned. "Alfred, tell me you didn't."
"Oh, I did," Alfred said mischievously.
"What is it?" Tim and Dick asked in unison. Alfred flipped the paper around. On it was a child's drawing of a tall man in a suit with a mustache, and a small boy. They were holding hands.
"Master Bruce drew this when he was five," Alfred said. Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Bruce, you never told us you were an artist," Dick gasped. He put a hand over his heart in mock offense. "I feel betrayed. How could you keep this from us?"
"Thats cute," Tim said, also grinning.
"I'm never gonna live this down," Bruce muttered. But there was no bitterness in his tone. In fact, another one of his rare smiles was creeping onto his face.
"Nonsense, don't be so dramatic," Alfred said. "Its your turn."
Bruce rolled his eyes and reached into his bag. And then he looked confused.
Bruce looked confused. He's hardly ever confused. He pulled out a small piece of cardboard, stared at it momentarily, and then Bruce, Alfred, and Dick all burst out laughing.
"What?" Tim said. "I don't get it, what?"
Bruce held out his hand. In the middle of his black gloves was a small green puzzle piece.
"It's that puzzle piece you were looking for!" Dick choked out between laughs. "For the Mona Lisa!"
"You took it?!" Tim asked incredulously.
"It was Jason's idea," Bruce explained.
"Oh man, do you know how pissed Jason would be if he knew you stole his idea?!" I mean he'd… he'd probably…" Dick trailed off.
"He'd probably resort to violence," Alfred mused, "and also owe the swear jar quite a bit of money."
Dick chuckled. He then tossed his bag back and forth in his hands. He couldn't for the life of him remember what was in it. Probably something cheesy and sweet, knowing him. He closed his eyes and reached in. He was surprised when his hand closed around papers. He pulled them out.
"Its a picture of Jason and I," Dick said, smiling sadly. He pulled something else from the bag and his smile became strained. "And… two non-refundable tickets to a ski trip for two years ago." Dicks face fell. His heart dropped to his stomach as he read the note attached to the tickets. 'I hope the second time we go will be just as fun as the first.'
It hit home for Dick again just why they were out there. Why the capsule had been forgotten about until now. Suddenly, the cold wind assaulting his exposed fingers and face seemed to be extra painful. He really wanted to go inside, curl back up by the window, and forget all about the time capsule.
"Do you want this?" Tim asked quietly. Dick pulled his stinging eyes from the note. Tim was holding out the last bag. It was green. That had always been Jason's favorite color.
Dick gingerly took it. He hesitated, and then offered to Bruce. B just shook his head and waved his hand towards his eldest son.
Dick swallowed the painful lump in his throat. He didn't want to open this. But he did. He knew it would hurt if he looked inside, but it would also hurt to ignore it. No matter what, it wouldn't bring Jason back.
With trembling hands, Dick pulled back the drawstring and blindly reached inside. Knowing Jason like he did, Dick expected to grab something like a spider as a practical joke. Maybe a pack of those gross bubble gum candies that only last a second. Perhaps a baseball card Jason hadn't cared much about. Maybe nothing.
Dick did not expect his fingers to close around a small plastic box. He raised an eyebrow and procured it from the bag.
"Is that a cassette tape?" Tim asked, confused. Dick looked to Bruce for help. He seemed just as perplexed as Dick. Alfred had an eyebrow raised and seemed to be trying to control his features; there was a knowing smile threatening to appear and a happy glint behind the man's eyes.
Dick attempted to lighten the mood. "Five bucks says this is AC/DC."
It took a while to find something that would actually play a cassette tape, but they eventually got it into Alfred's old fashioned radio that had a cassette player installed.
They sat around the kitchen island, waiting for the radio to think. Dick sipped his second cup of hot cocoa, silently wondering what it would be. There was a chance it could be a recording of embarrassing things Dick has done, that wouldn't be surprising. Maybe it was a recording of one of Jason's favorite books. Pirated music wasn't off the table, either.
After a few seconds of silent pondering, the radio clicked.
"Hey! Jason here!"
Bruce choked on his coffee; Dick almost dropped his. Tim's mouth fell open. Alfred just smiled.
"So, in case y'all have forgotten, it's the nineties. Doc Martens and those stupid Tamagotchi pets are in style. Also, Dick has this ridiculous mullet. What goes through that dude's head is beyond me. I honestly think he was dropped on the head as a child."
Dich pressed a hand to his mouth and choked back what was equal parts a laugh and a sob.
"Dude is a nutcase. Nice nutcase, though. Overbearing, yep, but nice. Anyway, if you're listening to this then it must be the future. And if this is being listened to, then we must be still hanging out, no matter how much shi— how much trouble I give you guys, sorry sorry. If you don't know, Alfred is helping me record this, and every time I get close to swearing he gives me a death glare. I'm also running low on funds and the swear jar is not my friend."
"You knew?" Bruce whispered, his eyes looking suspiciously wet.
"I didn't recall until recently," Alfred whispered back
"Anyhow, we're all probably together, most likely sitting in the living room like a big happy family or whatever. Also, quick note to future me: please do us both a favor and destroy this, cause I might say some incriminating mushy gushy crap that'll screw us both over. Kay? Kay."
"We're not destroying this," Dick said quickly.
"No way," Bruce agreed.
"So, assuming that I'm still giving you all hell — no Alfred, hell is not a swear word. No, its not! Technically its a place and— It doesn't count. No— Motherf- Hey, no, I didn't finish saying it so I dont have to put money in the swear jar. No, I dont! Alfred, come ooon."
A few chuckles filled the room.
"Okay, so assuming that I'm still giving you HECK; are ya happy Al? Geez. Anyway, I'm probably still giving you guys a hard time from now to then. And seeing as how I'll be going off to college when this gets dug up, and I won't be around as much, it might be beneficial to say… y'know… some things that we don't really say. I love you and all that jazz."
Bruce looked like someone punched him. Dick gasped. Tim just looked sad.
"Man, my only comfort right now is that I can't be half as embarrassed as Bruce after what Alfred put in his capsule. Oh, man, that reaction musta been hilarious when Al whipped that drawing out. If future me didn't get a recording of that I'm'a be so disappointed."
Recording-Jason paused and took a deep breath, and that made Dick feel like he got repeatedly punched in the stomach. It was somehow the most painful and the most beautiful sound in the world. Jason breathing. What Dick would give to have Jay next to him right now. To give him a hug and introduce him to Tim (wouldn't they get along so well? After they get past Jason's brashness and Tims shyness they'd be two peas in a pod) tell him he was sorry and then Jason would complain about Dick embraces and then—
Dick stopped himself from spiraling. Jason was gone. Nothing would change that.
But for a few moments he could listen to his little brother's voice and just pretend.
"Okay, no more procrastination. I'll say my piece: I know I give you guys a lot of trouble, especially you, Dad,"
Now Bruce looked extremely close to tears.
"But, y'know, I really love you all and I'm really thankful for what you guys have done for me. Whatever. Something like that."
"He wrote this script himself," Alfred said.
"I can tell," Bruce replied.
Dick was too intently focused to add to the conversation. And from the look of it Tim was also hanging onto every word.
"Also, to be fair, I put up with a lotta your guys' crap, too. I mean, what's with that ski trip Dick is always talking about? Man, you know I hate snow. Winter complicates everything. Nothing you can say or do will change my mind."
Dick laughed, which was weird, because he didn't think it was supposed to be funny. He also wasn't feeling very happy. Or was he? Feelings were weird. He didn't feel happy but he wasn't devastated either. He felt…
He didn't know.
Nostalgic, maybe? Lonely? Like he just got sucker punched and was struggling to find air? Nauseous.
Dick wasn't sure. He just knew he missed his brother.
"Also Dads a huge grump. Gotta deal with that, too. But, like, whatever, I guess. Point is, Dick told me to put something meaningful in here. And this is just as much to let you guys know that I care about you in general incase I'm too much of a pu- of a scaredy cat to admit it, as it is to give myself a reminder. A reminder that even though my childhood was filled with a lotta BS— I didn't actually say the word I abbreviated so it doesn't count Alfred— that I still have a lotta happy memories. This stupid time capsule being one of them."
And that's what did it. Dick was crying. He was sobbing like a baby. He couldn't really bring himself to care about his appearance right now, however, instead focusing on each of Jason's words. Right now it was almost like Dick had him back. When the cassette stopped he'd lose him again and he doesn't want to lose him and— and—
And he missed him so much.
There was a pause in the tape, and Dick was worried it was over without so much as a goodbye, when it continued.
"Oh geez louise, this is going to be so embarrassing." Jason's thoughtful tone was gone, and he once again resumed in his normal voice. "Babs is never gonna let this go. This'll be the death of me. Okay, I'm signing off to keep myself from saying any other emotional garbage. See ya."
The cassette player clicked.
Just like that. It was over.
"Wow," Tim said quietly.
Dick roughly scrubbed at his face with his sweater sleeves.
"That was…" Bruce trailed off. His voice sounded strained. "Alfred, you knew about this?"
"Like I said, I had all but forgotten until young Master Dick brought it up," Alfred said.
"I didn't remember," Dick said. His throat hurt and his voice sounded all scratchy. "Tims the one who found the map."
Tim suddenly looked like he wanted to be anywhere else in the world but at that table. He strongly resembled a deer in a headlight. "Um, uh, I, er, uh…" he stuttered. "I know I'm not supposed to be snooping around Jason's stuff but I was just wondering — I mean I was just thinking — uh…"
"Tim," Bruce said, sternly but not crossly. "Thank you."
Tim blinked. "You're welcome?"
Dick sniffled. "Can we listen to it again?"
Bruce was already rewinding the tape before Dick could even finish asking. Tim had a small smile.
"I'll put on some more coffee," Alfred said.
They listened to it many more times than once. Dick memorized it after the first few times, but the words didn't matter as much as the sound. This was the first time he had heard his brother's voice in years and he was hanging onto every word. They would have sat there longer, but eventually it became night and Oracle called to report activity in Black Masks gang war. Duty called.
Dick couldn't wait to get back and listen to the tape again.
Halfway across the city, the Red Hood was struggling to hoist himself up a fire escape and cursing out the snow every time he slipped.
Winter complicated everything.
Authors Note:
Hi yes hello it's me. :)
Just wanted to give credit where credits due real quick and say I took inspiration from the show This Is Us (S4E14 "the cabin"). I saw the episode and thought "wow. this is a splendid way to cause fictional charecters emotional pain."
Anyway thats all. Byeeeee