To the Bone Epilogue
Jul. 21st, 2010 08:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
oroburos69Bruce
Tim wishes he hadn’t said it. He turns around to apologize, and pauses.
Bruce holds out his hands uncertainly. Tim blinks. Nothing changes. “I’m sorry,” he says, then walks forward. “Is that a kitten?”
“I found it on patrol,” Bruce replies awkwardly, trying to keep it from gnawing on his thumb. “I couldn’t find its mother. The vet said--”
“Can we keep it?” Tim asks, gently rubbing his fingers over its little back. The kitten immediately rolls over and attacks his hand.
“Her. It’s a female.” Bruce smiles hopefully, and adds, “I thought maybe you’d like a pet?”
Tim hugs him, ignoring Bruce’s jerk as he starts to block, then tries to cover it up as a flinch. “Yes. Thank you.” He pulls back, taking the tiny kitten into his hands. Her claws prickle, and she bites his finger.
Tim’s hands are rock steady.
“Can I call her Batcat?”
Alfred
“Might I suggest milk and cookies?” Alfred asks, heading toward the cooling tray by the oven.
Tim nods unsteadily, and sits down at the butcher block table. He holds onto the edge hard enough to make his hands stop shaking. He doesn’t know if Alfred knows, but, given that it’s Alfred, Tim probably never will.
The cookies are his favorite kind and Alfred used the bat cookie cutter on them. Somewhere around biting the head off of his third one, Tim’s hands stop shaking.
Alfred makes him soup.
Dick
“Tim?”
He freezes. A drop of water falls from the faucet to the sink, a gentle ping in the silence of the kitchen.
“Tim, what’s wrong?” Dick is next to him putting his hand on Tim’s shoulder.
Tim freezes. “Nothing,” he lies, forcing his hands to be still, making himself stand up straight.
“I kinda think you’re lying,” Dick smiles. “Bruce called me over. Said you weren’t feeling well.”
Tim gives a short, disbelieving laugh. “You could say that.”
“Flu?” Dick guides him toward the kitchen table, pulling out the chair for him. “I heard there was a pretty bad outbreak of it in Gotham.”
Tim nods, then hugs Dick hard enough to bruise.
Selina
Catwoman finds Robin on the edge of the Gotham Art Museum, perched on a gargoyle. She lands on the steep-pitched roof, as graceful and sure in four inch heels as Batman is in modified combat boots.
“Hey kid,” she greets him, leaning against his gargoyle.
“Catwoman.”
“Got a message for you,” she pauses there and bites her lip, obviously confused. “Killer Croc told me to tell you--”
Robin starts moving when she says ‘Killer Croc’, shifting to his feet and leaping across the street to the opera house, sending his grappling hook into a statue’s chest and swinging to the Gothic inspired cantilevered aches over the main entrance.
Catwoman sighs. “He says he’s sorry!” she yells across rooftops, doing her good deed for the day.
Robin twists and lands the jump easily. “He’s out of Arkham?” he shouts back, his voice strident, sharp.
“I saw him in the sewers last week,” she replies. People below them are looking up, alerted by the shouting.
Robin nods and jumps again, heading toward Old Gotham.
Catwoman shrugs and jumps off the side of the museum, heading in the opposite direction. The click of cell phones taking pictures follows her north.
Kon-El
SuperB: Hey, you want to do something this weekend?
BoyW: <click to download>
SuperB: Stop sending me pictures of your cat. Seriously.
BoyW: This one’s really cute. <click to download>
SuperB: Damnit, Robin, stop it!
BoyW: She just woke up! <click to download>
Clark
Robin studies the terrain below, noting possible landing spots, ledges, potential hazards. He pulls his grappling hook from his belt and loops the safety cord around his wrist.
He rocks back on his heels then leaps, flying across the city skyline, gliding like a...
...Gliding very slowly. Robin looks up and catches a glimpse of flapping red cape before he tumbles into Superman’s arms, his cape losing its rigidity and flapping uselessly.
“I was fine,” Robin shouts over the whistling of the wind. Superman can hear him from miles away. Robin shouts mostly to hurt Superman’s ears.
“Robin, I know you’re going through a hard time...” The wind whips away the rest of what he’s saying.
Robin seethes, “I have my grappling hook right here. In my hand. I do this every night. Why the hell are you saving me?”
“Kon said you were depressed,” Superman admits, flying down to street level and letting Robin go. “I was worried--”
“Look, I’m not depressed, I’m not upset with him and I don’t know what he told you, but I am not suicidal.” Robin hissed. He took a good step or two back, getting some space between them.
“Robin--”
“I have to be in Old Gotham in twenty minutes.” Robin cuts him off, brushing imaginary lint off his costume. If the lint is in the same places Superman touched him, that’s just a weird coincidence.
Robin uses his grappling hook to get back on the rooftops. Superman’s following at a safe distance, he realizes when he looks back. Robin narrows his eyes behind his mask. He doesn’t need any help.
Stephanie
“Hey Boy Wonder,” Spoiler calls from the next rooftop over. The bottom of her mask is rolled up, and she’s in the middle of eating an ice cream cone, sitting on top of the air conditioning unit.
Robin waves, then jumps the five foot gap between the buildings.
“Want some ice cream?” she asks, licking up a white drop of melted vanilla that’s threatening to fall.
“Where did you get it?” Robin replies, climbing up beside her and sitting down.
“A gang initiation was going after the ice cream stand on the corner. I stopped them before they could do any damage, so the owner gave me an ice cream cone.”
“You aren’t supposed to--”
“He was really insistent,” Spoiler says, handing Robin her cone. “What flavor do you want? I’ll buy you one.”
“What flavors did he have?” Robin asks. He holds the cone gingerly, trying to keep the drops of melting ice cream off of his gloves.
“Lick it if you have to,” Spoiler says. “And he had all the standard flavors, plus tiger, bubble gum, green tea, butterscotch, black licorice--”
“Black licorice,” Robin says, then looks at her suspiciously. “You know all of the flavors?”
“I get ice cream there before I go on patrol. Like, a lot.” Spoiler laughs and tugs her mask over her face before jumping down.
Robin licks up a trail of ice cream before she returns, clambering carefully over the edge of the building to keep the ice cream from falling out.
“Here.” She hands it to him, then jumps up to the top of the air conditioner and takes back her cone.
“Did you--” Robin stops, and doesn’t finish the question. He’s not even sure why he wanted to ask it.
“Did I what?” Spoiler asks, peeling up the bottom of her mask again.
“How did you feel, coming back after Africa?” He doesn’t turn to look at her, and hopes with a quiet desperation that she’ll think his question is an idle one.
“I was happy. Looking forward to seeing you again.” She manages to say it without even a trace of bitterness, which impresses Tim. “I was kind of scared, because everyone and their dog knew what had happened to me, and how badly I’d screwed up.” Spoiler sighs.
Robin shivers, suddenly cold. “Would you have wanted it to be a secret?”
“My medical records, at least,” she replies. “I still don’t like that I was used as an example.” She stretches fluidly, cracking her back. “But the past is the past, you know?”
“Yeah,” he says slowly, licking up an errant trail of black licorice ice cream. “I guess it is.”
To the Bone 1 of 3
To the Bone 2 of 3
To the Bone 3 of 3
To the Bone Epilogue
Tim wishes he hadn’t said it. He turns around to apologize, and pauses.
Bruce holds out his hands uncertainly. Tim blinks. Nothing changes. “I’m sorry,” he says, then walks forward. “Is that a kitten?”
“I found it on patrol,” Bruce replies awkwardly, trying to keep it from gnawing on his thumb. “I couldn’t find its mother. The vet said--”
“Can we keep it?” Tim asks, gently rubbing his fingers over its little back. The kitten immediately rolls over and attacks his hand.
“Her. It’s a female.” Bruce smiles hopefully, and adds, “I thought maybe you’d like a pet?”
Tim hugs him, ignoring Bruce’s jerk as he starts to block, then tries to cover it up as a flinch. “Yes. Thank you.” He pulls back, taking the tiny kitten into his hands. Her claws prickle, and she bites his finger.
Tim’s hands are rock steady.
“Can I call her Batcat?”
Alfred
“Might I suggest milk and cookies?” Alfred asks, heading toward the cooling tray by the oven.
Tim nods unsteadily, and sits down at the butcher block table. He holds onto the edge hard enough to make his hands stop shaking. He doesn’t know if Alfred knows, but, given that it’s Alfred, Tim probably never will.
The cookies are his favorite kind and Alfred used the bat cookie cutter on them. Somewhere around biting the head off of his third one, Tim’s hands stop shaking.
Alfred makes him soup.
Dick
“Tim?”
He freezes. A drop of water falls from the faucet to the sink, a gentle ping in the silence of the kitchen.
“Tim, what’s wrong?” Dick is next to him putting his hand on Tim’s shoulder.
Tim freezes. “Nothing,” he lies, forcing his hands to be still, making himself stand up straight.
“I kinda think you’re lying,” Dick smiles. “Bruce called me over. Said you weren’t feeling well.”
Tim gives a short, disbelieving laugh. “You could say that.”
“Flu?” Dick guides him toward the kitchen table, pulling out the chair for him. “I heard there was a pretty bad outbreak of it in Gotham.”
Tim nods, then hugs Dick hard enough to bruise.
Selina
Catwoman finds Robin on the edge of the Gotham Art Museum, perched on a gargoyle. She lands on the steep-pitched roof, as graceful and sure in four inch heels as Batman is in modified combat boots.
“Hey kid,” she greets him, leaning against his gargoyle.
“Catwoman.”
“Got a message for you,” she pauses there and bites her lip, obviously confused. “Killer Croc told me to tell you--”
Robin starts moving when she says ‘Killer Croc’, shifting to his feet and leaping across the street to the opera house, sending his grappling hook into a statue’s chest and swinging to the Gothic inspired cantilevered aches over the main entrance.
Catwoman sighs. “He says he’s sorry!” she yells across rooftops, doing her good deed for the day.
Robin twists and lands the jump easily. “He’s out of Arkham?” he shouts back, his voice strident, sharp.
“I saw him in the sewers last week,” she replies. People below them are looking up, alerted by the shouting.
Robin nods and jumps again, heading toward Old Gotham.
Catwoman shrugs and jumps off the side of the museum, heading in the opposite direction. The click of cell phones taking pictures follows her north.
Kon-El
SuperB: Hey, you want to do something this weekend?
BoyW: <click to download>
SuperB: Stop sending me pictures of your cat. Seriously.
BoyW: This one’s really cute. <click to download>
SuperB: Damnit, Robin, stop it!
BoyW: She just woke up! <click to download>
Clark
Robin studies the terrain below, noting possible landing spots, ledges, potential hazards. He pulls his grappling hook from his belt and loops the safety cord around his wrist.
He rocks back on his heels then leaps, flying across the city skyline, gliding like a...
...Gliding very slowly. Robin looks up and catches a glimpse of flapping red cape before he tumbles into Superman’s arms, his cape losing its rigidity and flapping uselessly.
“I was fine,” Robin shouts over the whistling of the wind. Superman can hear him from miles away. Robin shouts mostly to hurt Superman’s ears.
“Robin, I know you’re going through a hard time...” The wind whips away the rest of what he’s saying.
Robin seethes, “I have my grappling hook right here. In my hand. I do this every night. Why the hell are you saving me?”
“Kon said you were depressed,” Superman admits, flying down to street level and letting Robin go. “I was worried--”
“Look, I’m not depressed, I’m not upset with him and I don’t know what he told you, but I am not suicidal.” Robin hissed. He took a good step or two back, getting some space between them.
“Robin--”
“I have to be in Old Gotham in twenty minutes.” Robin cuts him off, brushing imaginary lint off his costume. If the lint is in the same places Superman touched him, that’s just a weird coincidence.
Robin uses his grappling hook to get back on the rooftops. Superman’s following at a safe distance, he realizes when he looks back. Robin narrows his eyes behind his mask. He doesn’t need any help.
Stephanie
“Hey Boy Wonder,” Spoiler calls from the next rooftop over. The bottom of her mask is rolled up, and she’s in the middle of eating an ice cream cone, sitting on top of the air conditioning unit.
Robin waves, then jumps the five foot gap between the buildings.
“Want some ice cream?” she asks, licking up a white drop of melted vanilla that’s threatening to fall.
“Where did you get it?” Robin replies, climbing up beside her and sitting down.
“A gang initiation was going after the ice cream stand on the corner. I stopped them before they could do any damage, so the owner gave me an ice cream cone.”
“You aren’t supposed to--”
“He was really insistent,” Spoiler says, handing Robin her cone. “What flavor do you want? I’ll buy you one.”
“What flavors did he have?” Robin asks. He holds the cone gingerly, trying to keep the drops of melting ice cream off of his gloves.
“Lick it if you have to,” Spoiler says. “And he had all the standard flavors, plus tiger, bubble gum, green tea, butterscotch, black licorice--”
“Black licorice,” Robin says, then looks at her suspiciously. “You know all of the flavors?”
“I get ice cream there before I go on patrol. Like, a lot.” Spoiler laughs and tugs her mask over her face before jumping down.
Robin licks up a trail of ice cream before she returns, clambering carefully over the edge of the building to keep the ice cream from falling out.
“Here.” She hands it to him, then jumps up to the top of the air conditioner and takes back her cone.
“Did you--” Robin stops, and doesn’t finish the question. He’s not even sure why he wanted to ask it.
“Did I what?” Spoiler asks, peeling up the bottom of her mask again.
“How did you feel, coming back after Africa?” He doesn’t turn to look at her, and hopes with a quiet desperation that she’ll think his question is an idle one.
“I was happy. Looking forward to seeing you again.” She manages to say it without even a trace of bitterness, which impresses Tim. “I was kind of scared, because everyone and their dog knew what had happened to me, and how badly I’d screwed up.” Spoiler sighs.
Robin shivers, suddenly cold. “Would you have wanted it to be a secret?”
“My medical records, at least,” she replies. “I still don’t like that I was used as an example.” She stretches fluidly, cracking her back. “But the past is the past, you know?”
“Yeah,” he says slowly, licking up an errant trail of black licorice ice cream. “I guess it is.”
To the Bone 1 of 3
To the Bone 2 of 3
To the Bone 3 of 3
To the Bone Epilogue
