TITLE: Apologies and Recriminations (World's Finest #4, another epilogue)
AUTHOR: Mara Greengrass
AUTHOR'S EMAIL: Feedback is better than chocolate.
PERMISSION TO ARCHIVE: Please ask.
CATEGORY: The first two stories in the series are slashy. This is gen.
RATING: G
SUMMARY: One year after the events of "Dark and Light," Bruce has an unexpected visitor.
CONTINUITY: This series diverges from continuity just after Tim gives up the Robin suit.
DISCLAIMER: These characters belong to DC Comics. I just fantasize and worry about them.
NOTES: I didn't intend to write another story, but I realized after I was done that I'd left one plot thread dangling. So, here's a conversation that had to happen eventually.
Bruce looked up as Alfred entered the drawing room, then dropped his newspaper at the shocked look on the other man's face. "What's wrong? I thought I heard the doorbell."
"You have a visitor, sir."
"A vis--"
"Hello, Bruce." Alfred stepped aside, and for a moment, Bruce almost didn't recognize the unsmiling black-haired teen who entered the room.
"Tim?" Bruce was glad he was already sitting down.
"I'll just make some tea," Alfred said.
Tim still moved gracefully, Bruce saw, although he'd lost some of the muscle tone. Tim hesitantly sat in the chair opposite Bruce's loveseat.
They stared at each other.
"How...how are you?" Bruce asked. "Clark's kept me up-to-date, but..."
"I'm okay." Tim didn't seem to be in any hurry to get to the point of his visit.
"That's good." Bruce cursed the fact that society didn't prepare one for this kind of conversation. Etiquette was really lacking in the area of 'talking to former sidekicks who left when their secret identities were revealed to their fathers.'
Tim sat back in the chair, relaxing a little. Whatever he was looking for, he'd found it. "Kon's been pushing me to come see you for a while now."
"It's been a year." He tried to make the sentence as neutral as possible.
Tim frowned. "My dad's still pretty angry at you, but I probably could have talked him into this any time in the past few months."
"Why did you come now?" It came out sharper than he'd intended, but Tim just studied him.
"I'm here because Kon insisted I needed to talk to you."
"Oh."
"I strongly suspect Clark's been working on you."
Bruce didn't respond, but he saw that Tim still knew how to read a slight twitch of his lips. Indeed, Clark had barely shut up over the past year on the subject.
"How's Steph?"
"Coming along. She took down a smuggling ring by herself last week."
Tim nodded. "Good."
The silence was awkward and they both looked up with some relief as Alfred bustled in, placing a loaded tea tray on the coffee table between them.
Tim smiled. "Thanks, Alfred, I've missed your cookies."
"You could have had some at any time, you know," Alfred said.
"Alfred!" Bruce winced as Tim ducked his head, face flushed.
"Of course, sir." Alfred turned. "I'm sorry, Master Tim. I'm very glad to see you here."
Tim managed a grin. "And I'm glad to see you're just the same."
Alfred bowed and left them alone again.
"He's right, though."
"Hmm?" The nostalgic grin slid off Tim's face and he turned back.
"You'd have been welcome here at any time." And I missed you, Bruce didn't say.
"Really?" Tim looked down and picked up a chocolate chip cookie. "I'm not so sure."
Bruce swallowed. "It's true. After all, I'm not the one who asked you to leave. You left of your own free will." And that thought still hurt, he admitted to himself.
Scowling, Tim shook his head. "I left under duress, remember? I didn't see you exerting any real effort to keep me, and you certainly replaced me fast enough."
Bruce felt his stomach drop. "Is that what you think?"
"Of course! You let me go without a fight and Steph was Robin before my suit even got cold."
Bruce covered his eyes, searching for the right words before he looked at Tim again. "You always said you didn't want to be Robin forever. I thought you wanted to go. But you're the one who said that Batman needs a Robin."
Light dawned on Tim's face. "I thought you didn't want me as Robin anymore."
"We're a couple of idiots, aren't we?"
"Yeah." Tim shook his head slowly, his grin coming back. "Kon's been trying to tell me this for a while now."
"Clark too."
Tim ate his cookie, obviously struggling to keep his grin under control, and Bruce poured himself a cup of tea.
"So," Tim said, wiping his mouth, "maybe we should start over. Hello, Bruce, how are you?"
"I'm fine, how are you?"
"Just peachy. Still trying to get used to civilian life."
"Do you wa--"
"Bruce."
"I'm sorry."
Tim hung his head. "The answer is yes and no, I guess. Part of me would do anything to come back and the other part is just getting used to not being in mortal danger on a nightly basis."
Unsure how to respond, Bruce waited.
"Dick asked..." Tim paused, looking him in the eye. "He asked me to work with him in Blüdhaven. The Titans want me back too."
"Steph never found a place with them."
Tim ran a hand through his hair. "I know. I tried, but..."
Bruce nodded--he knew how emotional and irrational teams could be about these things. "It would be good," Bruce fumbled for the words, "if you were back on the streets. Here or in Blüdhaven."
Tim understood, as he always had, and they drank their tea. They'd always communicated so well, Bruce thought. How had this total misunderstanding happened?
When the silence became awkward again, Bruce fell back on social convention. "How is Kon?"
Tim's small smile lit up his face. "Good. We're good. Have you forgiven Clark for interfering yet?"
"I suppose so." His lips compressed. "Although strangely, Lois found out about poker night."
"Did she?"
"Now she insists on playing. And she nearly always wins. Flash is annoyed with me."
Tim snickered, then went back to staring into his teacup. "It's weird."
When Tim didn't go on, Bruce prompted, "What's weird?"
"Being on the other side, the civilian waiting to hear if anyone's died."
"Hmm." The sound was surprised out of Bruce, who hadn't expected that.
Silence fell again, broken by the clinking as Tim idly played with the sugar bowl, unconcerned by Bruce watching him.
Bruce sat back and drank his tea, watching and thinking, remembering the past year and the years that Tim was Robin. "You'll need a new uniform and code name then."
"Yes." Tim didn't look up or seem surprised. "I've been thinking about that."
"I thought you might have." Bruce felt a grin tug at his lips. Tim was a hero. Even if he wasn't Robin, he had the drive, the skills, and the need to use them.
"It's going to take some more time to convince my dad, of course."
"Of course."
"But I'll be back."
"In Gotham?" Bruce held his breath.
"If you'll have me."
"Gladly." Bruce reached across the table and Tim shook his hand, finally meeting his eyes.
--end--
AUTHOR: Mara Greengrass
AUTHOR'S EMAIL: Feedback is better than chocolate.
PERMISSION TO ARCHIVE: Please ask.
CATEGORY: The first two stories in the series are slashy. This is gen.
RATING: G
SUMMARY: One year after the events of "Dark and Light," Bruce has an unexpected visitor.
CONTINUITY: This series diverges from continuity just after Tim gives up the Robin suit.
DISCLAIMER: These characters belong to DC Comics. I just fantasize and worry about them.
NOTES: I didn't intend to write another story, but I realized after I was done that I'd left one plot thread dangling. So, here's a conversation that had to happen eventually.
Bruce looked up as Alfred entered the drawing room, then dropped his newspaper at the shocked look on the other man's face. "What's wrong? I thought I heard the doorbell."
"You have a visitor, sir."
"A vis--"
"Hello, Bruce." Alfred stepped aside, and for a moment, Bruce almost didn't recognize the unsmiling black-haired teen who entered the room.
"Tim?" Bruce was glad he was already sitting down.
"I'll just make some tea," Alfred said.
Tim still moved gracefully, Bruce saw, although he'd lost some of the muscle tone. Tim hesitantly sat in the chair opposite Bruce's loveseat.
They stared at each other.
"How...how are you?" Bruce asked. "Clark's kept me up-to-date, but..."
"I'm okay." Tim didn't seem to be in any hurry to get to the point of his visit.
"That's good." Bruce cursed the fact that society didn't prepare one for this kind of conversation. Etiquette was really lacking in the area of 'talking to former sidekicks who left when their secret identities were revealed to their fathers.'
Tim sat back in the chair, relaxing a little. Whatever he was looking for, he'd found it. "Kon's been pushing me to come see you for a while now."
"It's been a year." He tried to make the sentence as neutral as possible.
Tim frowned. "My dad's still pretty angry at you, but I probably could have talked him into this any time in the past few months."
"Why did you come now?" It came out sharper than he'd intended, but Tim just studied him.
"I'm here because Kon insisted I needed to talk to you."
"Oh."
"I strongly suspect Clark's been working on you."
Bruce didn't respond, but he saw that Tim still knew how to read a slight twitch of his lips. Indeed, Clark had barely shut up over the past year on the subject.
"How's Steph?"
"Coming along. She took down a smuggling ring by herself last week."
Tim nodded. "Good."
The silence was awkward and they both looked up with some relief as Alfred bustled in, placing a loaded tea tray on the coffee table between them.
Tim smiled. "Thanks, Alfred, I've missed your cookies."
"You could have had some at any time, you know," Alfred said.
"Alfred!" Bruce winced as Tim ducked his head, face flushed.
"Of course, sir." Alfred turned. "I'm sorry, Master Tim. I'm very glad to see you here."
Tim managed a grin. "And I'm glad to see you're just the same."
Alfred bowed and left them alone again.
"He's right, though."
"Hmm?" The nostalgic grin slid off Tim's face and he turned back.
"You'd have been welcome here at any time." And I missed you, Bruce didn't say.
"Really?" Tim looked down and picked up a chocolate chip cookie. "I'm not so sure."
Bruce swallowed. "It's true. After all, I'm not the one who asked you to leave. You left of your own free will." And that thought still hurt, he admitted to himself.
Scowling, Tim shook his head. "I left under duress, remember? I didn't see you exerting any real effort to keep me, and you certainly replaced me fast enough."
Bruce felt his stomach drop. "Is that what you think?"
"Of course! You let me go without a fight and Steph was Robin before my suit even got cold."
Bruce covered his eyes, searching for the right words before he looked at Tim again. "You always said you didn't want to be Robin forever. I thought you wanted to go. But you're the one who said that Batman needs a Robin."
Light dawned on Tim's face. "I thought you didn't want me as Robin anymore."
"We're a couple of idiots, aren't we?"
"Yeah." Tim shook his head slowly, his grin coming back. "Kon's been trying to tell me this for a while now."
"Clark too."
Tim ate his cookie, obviously struggling to keep his grin under control, and Bruce poured himself a cup of tea.
"So," Tim said, wiping his mouth, "maybe we should start over. Hello, Bruce, how are you?"
"I'm fine, how are you?"
"Just peachy. Still trying to get used to civilian life."
"Do you wa--"
"Bruce."
"I'm sorry."
Tim hung his head. "The answer is yes and no, I guess. Part of me would do anything to come back and the other part is just getting used to not being in mortal danger on a nightly basis."
Unsure how to respond, Bruce waited.
"Dick asked..." Tim paused, looking him in the eye. "He asked me to work with him in Blüdhaven. The Titans want me back too."
"Steph never found a place with them."
Tim ran a hand through his hair. "I know. I tried, but..."
Bruce nodded--he knew how emotional and irrational teams could be about these things. "It would be good," Bruce fumbled for the words, "if you were back on the streets. Here or in Blüdhaven."
Tim understood, as he always had, and they drank their tea. They'd always communicated so well, Bruce thought. How had this total misunderstanding happened?
When the silence became awkward again, Bruce fell back on social convention. "How is Kon?"
Tim's small smile lit up his face. "Good. We're good. Have you forgiven Clark for interfering yet?"
"I suppose so." His lips compressed. "Although strangely, Lois found out about poker night."
"Did she?"
"Now she insists on playing. And she nearly always wins. Flash is annoyed with me."
Tim snickered, then went back to staring into his teacup. "It's weird."
When Tim didn't go on, Bruce prompted, "What's weird?"
"Being on the other side, the civilian waiting to hear if anyone's died."
"Hmm." The sound was surprised out of Bruce, who hadn't expected that.
Silence fell again, broken by the clinking as Tim idly played with the sugar bowl, unconcerned by Bruce watching him.
Bruce sat back and drank his tea, watching and thinking, remembering the past year and the years that Tim was Robin. "You'll need a new uniform and code name then."
"Yes." Tim didn't look up or seem surprised. "I've been thinking about that."
"I thought you might have." Bruce felt a grin tug at his lips. Tim was a hero. Even if he wasn't Robin, he had the drive, the skills, and the need to use them.
"It's going to take some more time to convince my dad, of course."
"Of course."
"But I'll be back."
"In Gotham?" Bruce held his breath.
"If you'll have me."
"Gladly." Bruce reached across the table and Tim shook his hand, finally meeting his eyes.
--end--