Disclaimer; I love DC, they're my best friends, they let me borrow their stuff.
Tim woke feeling refreshed, if a little creaky from remaining seated against the wall all night. These days he woke fast, full awareness rushing back to him in a matter of moments, and all the previous day was presented in his mind in clear detail. Bea had remembered…whatever. It would probably be tough for her, especially if she kept experiencing seizures. Recall of repressed memories was traumatising no matter what the circumstances. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out through his mouth, internally taking stock of his body. He had had just about enough sleep, somewhat unusual, and he felt unusually alert. He decided to talk to Bruce about letting him go home early some nights, it wasn't like the Wayne mansion was short on bedrooms, after all. His neck was cricked a little, and the skin on his wrists and face were sore from where his mask and gloves had contracted and rubbed as they dried out. Apart from that, he felt fine, and was surprised that it had taken him a few seconds to register that he was now lying on his side, still with his back against the wall, on the damnably comfortable carpet.
Opening his eyes, he was vaguely alarmed to see that Bea wasn't where he had left her, sleeping under her spread out anorak, but then the vague hissing sound he had been aware of since he woke resolved itself into running water, and he calmed immediately. Judging by the lack of natural light, it was night, probably a little before midnight if he could still trust his internal clock. A brief search of the apartment revealed that it had been completely uninhabited before the quake, and so there were no supplies of food or anything. He dug through the pockets on his belt and came up with three remaining energy bars and a handful of glucose pills, and put two of the bars on the table for breakfast.
Bea's bag lay on the floor by the kitchen table, the top cover-flap unfastened. Tim eyed it for a moment, and then managed to over come the urge to look inside it by knocking gently on the bathroom door. "Come in, Tim.", Bea called, and he let himself in. She stood in front of the sink, the cold tap running at a trickle, with a handkerchief wrapped around her index finger, using it to scrub at her teeth. He suppressed a smile, having seen Dick do this once when they were camping, the exact same action but for the river water instead of tap water. He had never let Dick forget that he had remembered a completely unnecessary inflatable raft, but had forgotten his tooth-brush.
"You might want to turn the tap of," he said as kindly as he could. "We don't know if its actually coming from the water mains or from whatever's left in the tank." She reached out and turned the tap off, looking immediately guilty, and he tried to make a comforting facial expression at her. He realised that there was something…intangible bothering him beyond their immediate predicament, but couldn't quite define it enough to be truly worried. He gave up on it, whatever it was; that feeling usually meant it wasn't that important.
When she was done, Bea left him to wash up by himself, and he took the opportunity to Peel off his uncomfortable mask, clean the lenses properly and reapply the adhesive from one of the little capsules in his belt pocket. The water from the tank ran out as he was finishing washing his neck, where his collar lay, a ritual that always soothed him, whether done in the shower cubicle in the guest suite at Wayne mansion, or with stream water in the woods outside of town. He turned off the now dripping tap with a sigh, dried his face and neck on his cape, fastened his tunic and headed back into the kitchen. Bea was sitting at the table, her bag in her lap, seemingly taking stock of the contents. The energy bars were untouched. He sat down and pushed one towards her and she picked it up gratefully, almost shyly. "We'd better move on soon," he offered as they ate. "This place isn't exactly safe, its likely to be looted as soon as people start getting themselves together. This is pretty much the last of our food, so we should find something to barter with and try to get some supplies." He had considered taking her back to what remained of the cave, but decided against it. Bruce would lose it and, though it would at least serve to break him out of his angst, Tim didn't want to bring Bruce's temper on himself for any reason. Ever. She nodded, and then smiled slightly and held the open backpack out to him. Looking in, he saw the maps, pens and paper she had taken from the booth and returned her smile. "Clever." he said, and that small comment seemed to lift her mood, as she began chattering at him, smiling and casually explaining her thought processes of the previous night. He sat, chewing his breakfast (dinner?) and nodding occasionally, when it suddenly hit him what had concerned him earlier.
Oh God.
Almost in shock, he forced down the dry mouthful or energy bar and looked at Bea with wide eyes. After a moment, she stopped chatting and noticed him staring, seeming to stare back evenly, despite the lenses of his mask separating them. Her eyes asked him what was wrong, if it had been something she had done to upset him, and that look of self-degradating guilt made him even more reluctant to point it out. "Bea," he said softly. "You called me Tim."