Who: Tim Wayne and Bart Allen What: Finally meeting. When: night or two after the attack. Tim ignores sleep. Where:Rooftop of the apartment complex Warnings: TBA
The night air was warm and the sky was clear, not a cloud in sight. The city was quieter, not nearly as much night life as Tim was used to in Bludhaven or Gotham. But not completely dead either. He knew he should have been in bed, but in all honesty Tim was just feeling to cramped up inside. His room was small. Not that he wasn't grateful for it at all, but it wasn't as much space as he normally had. Wayne Manor spoiled him a bit he supposed, and the Robins Nest wasn't half bad either in size and comfort. That wasn't the hard part. The hard part was just being indoors. After being inside that cell, strapped down to a medical table like a mad science experiment any room was to small. He made the executive decision that he needed air.
That and he needed sanity. In his room he was alone with his thoughts. Bruce always taught him not to look back, but it was all anyone talked about on the boards. In the hallways. How the Winchesters fucked up, how they shouldn't have left. Tim just wanted to be away from it all. Up high he felt like nothing could get him. It was his element. High top places out of sight out of mind. His entire body ached like fire, but he felt better mentally. As good as it could get really, all things considered. Buffy really had come through. Maybe that girl on the boards was right, if he trusted anyone she really should be one of them. She was working her way up there on his short list.
Everything Alastair said played through his mind like a broken record, but it was all discombobulated. It was out of place and didn't make sense. He wanted to remember, didn't he? He wanted to help. That was kind of the point of asking all those questions incase he made it out alive, but remembering what he said meant remembering every tiny little cut in his skin. Every pull of his teeth Tim just couldn't. Every time he tried he froze up and everything hurt. He was frustrated. Putting it mildly. Biting at his lip his hands gripped at the edge of the rooftop he sat on. From below it probably looked like a bad scene, like he was going to jump. But Tim didn't give up that easy. Still it could be mistaken for anything. His feet were over the side of the building. Just resting with the shadows was a comfort.