Christmas in Blüdhaven: Recrimination, Part Three (or, the Fifth Stage)
by Smitty
Tim heard Cassandra approach, which was a courtesy on her part.
"What's going on?" he asked, without turning his head. The city spilled clunky and dirty at his feet and he wanted to stretch out and kick it.
"Nightwing," she said succinctly.
"Tell him I'll be in shortly."
"He's just worried," she explained. She kept her distance but she didn't leave.
"You know," Tim said finally, when it was apparent she was in for the long haul, "there's really five stages of grief. But one of them is depression. And it's not really a stage. You just. Are. You know?" It was a long shot, parsing the connotations with Cass, but she understood more than he expected.
"Depression. Sad." She ventured forward and sat gingerly on the edge of the roof beside him. "Yes." She looked out over the city without looking over at him. "When I think of...Dad...I feel sad."
"Dick doesn't understand," Tim said, suddenly driven by the need to unburden himself. Cassandra was a good confessor. "He and Jason, they were Robin because their parents died. My parents died," he said, the words rising involuntarily in his throat like bile, "my dad died, because I am Robin."
Author's Note: Thanks to GenX for pointing out that I missed a stage of grief. Mea culpa.
Christmas in Blüdhaven is written in the same general style as Jingle Bells, my attempt to write 24 200-word ficlets--one per day until Christmas, sort of like an Advent calendar--with characters from around the DCU. Christmas in Blüdhaven differs, however, by each of the ficlets being loosely linked and progressing toward a greater conclusion. The title was derived from the Trans-Siberian Orchestra's "Christmas in Sarajevo" because everything and everyone in Blüdhaven is currently something of a wreck.