[log] It's been a long while...

[little_wing003]

Characters: OU: Tim Drake/Robin, AU: Quatre Winner
Where: Om Pente
When: After this.
Summary: Tim and Quatre talk after his disappearance
Warnings: Some angst


Tim knocked lightly at the door to Quatre's apartment. Now that he was back--and he *was* back--he needed to check on his friend. He had been... injured was putting it mildly... before Tim had left, and he wanted to check to make sure he was healing well.

And... he needed to talk to his friend. A lot had happened since they'd last seen each other. Here and back in Gotham. He just... needed to talk to someone.

Quatre was on the couch, asleep. he had dozed off earlier that day, and now woke with a start to an oddly familiar feeling. At this point, he wasn't sure what that was, still too foggy with sleep, so he stumbled up and went to open the door. It had been knocking, right?

Tim blinked in surprise when Quatre opened the door. Not that it should have been much of one--he had *knocked,* after all. He just didn't expect him to look half asleep. "Did I... I'm sorry, did I wake you up?"

Quatre's eyes opened, and became very wide. Then, inexplicably, they narrowed to slits. He half-closed the door, but still continued to stare through darkened eyes, searching for who knew what.

Tim drew back as if struck. he took a step back, away from the door. "I--I'm sorry. I was just... I'm back. I wanted to say hi; let you know. I didn't--I can go, if you'd like." His time as his evil older self came back to mind vividly with Quatre's glare. He'd thought... they had talked before he had left, and he'd thought there had been a measure of forgiveness. Apparently, something had happened to change that.

Something *had* happened, but not what Tim was thinking. An arm shot out and grasped his shoulder- Quatre's eyes met his, holding his gaze with an intensity such gentle eyes should not have possessed. Slowly, the blond's other hand reached up, clutching his chest.

Tim blinked back, his eyes wide and unguarded. "Is... everything okay, Quatre?" he asked hesitantly. Quatre had clearly not been pleased to see him, but he didn't want him to leave either. Tim was struggling to understand.

Carefully, unspoken words would enter quietly into the other boy's mind, like the dew gathering in a leaf. #Tim, is it really you?# The expression on Quatre's face didn't change yet, but he was tensed, as if waiting for something to happen.

Tim gave him a bemused look. #Who else would it be?# he asked, returning the question in the same manner it had been asked.

Without warning, almost without waiting for Tim to finish, Quatre threw his arms around the other boy, holding onto him as though for dear life. #Tim....Tim...it's you! It's really you...oh, Tim!#

Tim was frozen in shock for several long moments before he hugged Quatre back. #It's me... Of course it's me. What's wrong, Quatre? Why did you think I was someone else?#

For several moments, Quatre just held him, his face buried in Tim's shoulder. then, and with obvious reluctance, he pulled back and motioned for him to come in and sit down.

The blond sat down on the couch, not daring to hope that Tim would sit next to him, or let Quatre hold him...the blond was still not entirely sure he was real. "I....can explain..."

Tim dropped next to him, glad that things were cleared up a bit and that Quatre wasn't really angry with him. He bumped him with his shoulder, hoping to make him smile. "Please do. I like to know when others have reason to doubt my identity."

Quatre resisted the urge to pull the other boy into his arms again, and smiled thinly, bumping him back. "A lot has happened since you left..." That statement trailed off momentarily; he stared down at the hand that was still wrapped tightly in bandages. "I'm sorry, Tim....I didn't mean... I wasn't sure. Tomo tried to trick us again. He used you to do it."

"Tell me abou--" Tim's words cut off as Quatre continued, and a frown etched itself into his face. "He... What do you men he used me to try to trick you?" The frown deepened as he considered the implications of Quatre's words. "Are you okay? Who else was involved?"

"Robin, Dick..." One hand reached up to massage a temple, as it began to twinge. "He disguised himself as you...made himself *look* like you and went right to Dick. He'd been baiting him for a few days." This was said with unmistakable anger. "You were bleeding...I mean, *he* made it look like that. Dick bought it and, for a little while, I did too." Even though it had only been an illusion, it had been so real....most of it, anyway.

"He... did, did he?" Tim asked quietly. That would have to stop. Using him to hurt his friends while he was gone? No. He would have to give Tomo a lesson in manners. Maybe Kon would help.

Instinctively, Quatre shot out a hand and placed it on Tim's shoulder, as though he was afraid the other would rush off right then, settling scores on his first day back. the look of worry was unmistakable.

Tim smiled mildly at Quatre. "I'm not running off to hurt him this very moment--don't worry." His smile widened to one of real amusement. "I'd like to finish catching up before I go off to hurt someone."

Quatre couldn't help smiling a bit more then. Just having his friend there beside him, and knowing he was real eased a good deal of the burden hanging on his heart. Reaching out to grasp him, he hugged Tim for the second time, but pulled back almost immediately, a flush of shame on his face.

"Sorry..." he murmured. Duo's words still rang loudly in his ears, as well as words Tim had said during the transformation. Though they hadn't exactly convinced him, he was still confused by them.

Tim shook his head in confusion. "Why are you sorry? I don't mind." He made a face. "Is it... my older self? He... I hope you didn't believe him. I'm glad you're my friend. For whatever time we're here."

"I...." Quatre looked confused, even a little lost then. "I don't...I don't know." He shook his head. "It's not important."

Tim put an arm over Quatre's shoulders companionably. "They you don't have to worry about it, right?" he teased lightly. He didn't like to see Quatre worrying over the things that made up his personality. He *liked* how expressive his friend was. It was a far cry from most of the others in Tim's life. Especially in Gotham.

Quatre eased into the arm after a moment's hesitation, and one of his own curled around Tim. He smiled at him- the first real smile he'd had in weeks. "I missed you Tim....I really missed you. I'm just sorry you had to come back." Not too sorry to be overjoyed to see him, of course. That last statement was said with the odd mixture of happiness and slight shame for being happy that came naturally to Quatre.

The blond looked at him closely for a moment more, but this time, it was more as though he was memorizing Tim's face for future reference. "Tim...when exactly did you get back?"

Tim grinned and squeezed Quatre a little in a hug. I missed you too. A lot. I'm... well, I'm not glad to be back. I was... kind of in the middle of things back home, but I'm glad to see you again." He shrugged at Quatre's next question. "Not more than a few hours ago, as far as I can tell." He smiled slightly as he considered. "Ran into an old friend."

"You remember being home?" Quatre grabbed onto this information almost hungrily, as it caused hope to flicker in his heart. The second point was nearly overlooked, but Quatre managed to get it out. "Who?"

Tim nodded. "I... yeah." The smile faded from his face. "Things are... not all that great, actually..." He shook his head to clear it. It wasn't the time. Maybe when they sent him back for real, he'd be there in time to help. He smiled a little when Quatre asked him who he'd met, though. "Kon," he replied. "We met on the roof--talked a while." It had been nice--almost like having his friend back, though--of course--this one was different.

"I thought that's who you were talking about." Quatre leaned in, hesitantly, asking without words if he could rest his head against Tim's shoulder. "I met him, too. Yesterday, actually. We were talking about you...the Titans." Quatre frowned. "He's....he's not from your reality, is he?"

Tim shook his head, lifting his shoulder a bit to indicate permission. "He's not. But he's... a lot like the Kon I knew. It's nice--having him around."

A feeling of deep, yet muted joy washed over Quatre. Being so close to Tim again, and not being pushed away... He breathed out a little, resting his head in the offered place, and feeling the warmth against his own body like sunlight. Whatever his fears had been for any of those who had disappeared, at least Tim was alive and real. "I gathered as much from talking to him. I mean, from what you had told me of him." Quatre's arm fell to Tim's midsection, tightening a little. "In fact, he told me to ask you about the differences between your worlds..." An odd coincidence.

Tim raised an eyebrow. "Really? I'm not sure how much more I can tell you than he did." He laughed. "Well, I don't really know what he told you. I assume he would know his world better than I would, but... I guess I know mine better than his. Anything in particular got you curious?"

Quatre pondered this, thinking back to their first meeting. "He said that he didn't belong to the Titans, and wasn't called Superboy...did I just get everything mixed up?"

Tim shook his head. "No Though--I think--in his world, Young Justice stayed together. In mine, we broke up and reformed as the Titans." He gave a wry smile. "I think in some ways I like his better. Young Justice was a good team." It had been Tim's first team, and he'd been happy there. He was proud to be a Titan, but it had never made him as happy as being in Young Justice had.

"Who was in that team?" Quatre asked, trying to remember the names Kon had rattled off.

Tim held up his fingers and ticked them off as he named his former teammates. "Me, Kon, and Bart, obviously. Wonder Girl, Secret, Arrowette until she quit, and then Empress. Lobo. Ray--though..." Tim smirked. "He was trying to replace me when Bart and I quit for a little while. Didn't work."

"That sounds like the same team." From what Quatre could remember. "I have a feeling Kon was a part of Young Justice in his own world, but he wouldn't admit it." A tiny, knowing smile tugged at his lips then.

Tim tilted his head a little, considering. "I think he's... peripherally a member. Not a full member--partly due to his decision, and..." he looked a little chagrinned. "Partly due to our actions. From what I hear, I'm afraid our first meeting didn't go well."

Quatre's head turned upward a little, still resting in the crook of Tim's neck. "How do you mean?" A question aimed at both statements.

"The way he was raised... he didn't want much to do with the vigilante life. His... dad didn't approve." He laughed a little. "One sympathizes. And as for Young Justice? His dad is pretty famous for wanting and trying very very hard to take down Superman. It sounds like we assumed he was the same and chose not to trust him."

"Superman?" Quatre frowned a bit. "But....isn't Kon...wasn't he Superboy?" Now he was confused.

Tim hesitated a moment before nodding slowly. "He--yes. In my world. Kon is a clone, and he had two genetic donors. Two fathers, I guess you'd say. One is Superman--that's where he gets his powers from. The other... Luthor. Lex Luthor. Superman's worst enemy." He let out a humorless laugh. "Kon was created to destroy Superman. The details... aren't that important." Tim had lived that nightmare, after all, and saw no need to give it to Quatre as well. "But in his world, that plan was abandoned, and Luthor raised Kon as his son."

The frown on Quatre's face deepened. "That's....that's terrible." It sounded kind of like Heero, in a way, and the idea of clones, of being created to destroy... He looked up a bit. "If you want to talk about the details, we can." Quatre hadn't forgotten that tone, and the look that meant Tim was trying to protect him from something. A few fingers rubbed Tim's side gently.

Tim took a breath. "Kon was... a long-term plan. He was meant to grow up and become someone Superman would love. And he did. He was his own person and he joined Young Justice and the Titans, and Superman did love him--even though he wasn't always great at showing it. But..." This was the less pleasant part. "Kon was programmed from the beginning with a code that Luthor could speak and override his free will. And he did. He made Kon try to kill the Titans. The idea was that Superman would have to destroy Kon to keep him from killing us, which would have broken his heart." Tim grinned a little. "Didn't work. Titans take care of ourselves."

Quatre felt a kind of fierce pride rush through him, but it wasn't entirely Tim's. Anything his friend did right, or succeeded in, he shared in quietly. "What happened?" he asked then.

"He tossed us around a while, broke my arm, and tried to kill Cassie," Tim replied matter-of-factly. "Cassie was the one that shocked him out of it. Luthor's control wasn't strong enough to override Kon's emotions. He loved her. He couldn't kill her."

"Cassie..." Quatre remembered that name. As he mulled this over, there was a kind of general triumph in his eyes and voice that he couldn't explain. "Free will won over after all, then..." He snuggled in a bit more. "What happened then? Did he go against Luthor?"

Tim gave a grim little grin of triumph. "Yes. He did. He got in a few good hits, too, before he exposed the Kryptonite in Luthor's suit and couldn't continue. He got away." He sneered gracefully. "He always does."

"Luthor escaped?" Quatre could understand that note in Tim's voice. The fingers at Tim's side brushed with a bit more pressure, as if to comfort his friend. "What's Kryptonite?"

"Slippery bastard," Tim muttered. He looked back at Quatre again, anxiously. "Don't tell Kon I said that. That's his dad, and he probably wouldn't appreciate it. And Kryptonite is a mineral--from Superman's home planet. It comes in a lot of different colors, but the green stuff is lethal to him--and to Kon."

"His weakness." Quatre mused. Everyone had a weakness after all, even Superman. Tim had told him about that member of the Justice League, and how nearly invulnerable he seemed.

"Yes," Tim agreed. "That and magic. He doesn't deal well with that either."

"So...if Luthor is his father...I mean, if he raised him, then Kon would have been taught to hate Superman, wouldn't he?" It made sense, after all. "Magic?" Quatre made a slight noise in his throat. "And he's been brought here..."

Tim nodded slowly. "Luthor disapproves of all the mask and cape crowd. Superman especially, but it's not limited to him." He gave a bemused shake of his head. "But we're friends anyway." He laughed at Quatre's comment about magic. "Yeah... that should be intresting."

"Well, Kon is still like Superman, right?" Quatre asked. "I remember you telling me he was...what was it...like a Boy Scout?"

Tim laughed. "Big Blue, yeah."

"Well," Quatre pointed out, logically, "It stands to reason that, no matter how he was raised, that part of him couldn't ever be truly subverted."

"And, of course he would become friends with you, in spite of that. You're very similar."

Tim laughed out loud at this. "You know--I don't think anyone's ever said that about me and Kon before."

Quatre looked a bit non-plussed. "Why not? I mean...I don't know him very well, but in essentials...yes, I'd say you are." The hand at Tim's side placed itself over his heart. "I can feel it, anyway. You're both kind, you care about others, you want to make a better place for everyone. In the end, you're both about justice, with an appropriate amount of mercy."

Tim laughed and shoved at Quatre lightly, embarrassed. "You say the nicest things. And you're embarrassing me."

"It's true." The blond eyed him, quizzically. "But I don't mean to embarrass you..." In order to change the subject slightly, Quatre then asked, "So, in your world, Kon has met Superman? Does he know he's a clone?"

"It's... fine, don't worry about it. I'm just not used to people saying such nice things about me," he said with an embarrassed shrug. "And--in answer to your questions. Yes. To both. He didn't know about Luthor until about two years ago, but he always knew about Superman."

Quatre smiled at this. "You really ought to get used to it...especially from me." Quatre couldn't keep from saying nice things about others, especially Tim.

"So...who raised him in your world, then?" he asked.

"Uh, well... no one, really. Not for a while," Tim admitted. "Cadmus kept an eye on him, but I wouldn't say they raised him. And... Superman was kind of hands-off for a long time." Tim hadn't entirely forgiven the Kryptonian for that.

"He was?" Quatre's voice sank, becoming quiet, more thoughtful. "I wonder why...?" The tone rose to the present again. "Who is Cadmus?"

"Cadmus is--officially--the group that cloned him, though we found out later the Luthor was pulling the strings. They monitored his growth and kept an eye on him, but to say that they raised him would be a gross exaggeration."

That smacked of familiarity. Quatre's eyes narrowed. "But....I mean...why did they do it? Obviously, Luthor wanted a weapon... When did you find out about him, and what were their apparent reasons?"

Tim sighed. He didn't much care for Cadmus either, but their reasoning was ostensibly noble. "After Superman died, they wanted to clone him, so that we would have our world's greatest hero back. They got Kon instead. He's a hybrid--human and Kryptonian. This Kon doesn't know that, and don't tell him. When Superman came back... well, you can imagine how awkward he felt about Kon." It was the closest Tim would ever get to rationalizing Clark's treatment of his friend. "So he left him with Cadmus, mostly."

"Don't worry, I won't." Quatre looked faintly shocked at the idea that Tim would think he'd say anything, but at the same time, he understood the protectiveness that wanted to check everything a hundred times over. He pondered these reasons quietly for a moment. "Perhaps...perhaps he thought...you were trying to replace him? That his friends didn't need him anymore?" These were certainly feelings Quatre could understand.

Tim flushed faintly. "Sorry. I didn't mean--I know you wouldn't say anything. He'll probably find out eventually. Someone will slip and say something, but... It would be like when my Kon found out he was half Luthor--the enemy of the guy he looked up to as a father, only the other way around. If he doesn't have to know, I'd rather not have to break the news. And... maybe. I don't know--I don't know Superman very well."

Quatre curled his hand up slowly, placing it for a moment on Tim's shoulder. "You have my word...I won't say anything." Of course, that didn't change what Kon was, or that he would eventually figure things out on his own. Everyone always found out in the end. "Do you feel you might know Superman a little better, because you know Kon?"

"Thank you." Tim laughed a little. "Not really. They're... really a lot different. In my opinion, Kon is the one that is to be preferred. But I'm biased. He is one of my best friends."

"Well, he has Superman's DNA...it must have come from somewhere." Quatre looked up at him seriously, one cheek pushed up a bit as it rested against Tim's neck. "Perhaps....perhaps he's like Batman. maybe his past closed him off?" Frankly, the blond was surprised that Kon was so open and cheerful, considering he'd been raised as a weapon. Like Heero.

"Who, Superman?" Tim asked, confused. Clark was the least emotionally repressed person he knew. He was just... awkward around Kon. Though really, how else could he be expected to react to a teenaged clone of himself? Not that Tim felt this gave him much of an excuse. He'd been a lot better with that Chris kid.

"Well, yes..." Quatre replied. "But I can understand you preferring Kon. He's around your age..." A slight, wry smile touched his face. "Neither of us are very good at relating to our elders?"

Tim let out a short laugh. "I guess that's a fair assessment," he agreed. The only adult he consistently got along with was Alfred. Well, and Dick, but he hardly counted. Neither did Batman, really. In some ways, he was still the eight year old who'd lost his parents in that alley.

"I think we were born too old to accept them as they are." the blond mused out loud. "How did Kon meet all of you at first?"

"We met one on one the first time," Tim said, smiling a little. "I needed metahuman help for a situation in Gotham, and he was the only one available. He lived in Hawaii at the time, which is supposed to be an all day plane ride."

His smile widened at the memory. "I threatened his agent with stopping merchandise shipment, though, and he got there in a few hours under his own power."

"His agent?" Quatre looked a bit confused at this, though he was trying to understand what Tim was telling him.

"Kon was famous," he said, a fond smile on his face. "He had an agent to manage his public image."

"Really? Famous as what?"

"As the clone of Superman," Tim said with a small laugh. "Strong, able to fly, good-looking... He was a teen icon. I'm going to enjoy teasing this version of him about that."

"Poor Kon..." he laughed. After a moment, his face grew a bit more serious. "So...he knew who and what he was? I thought your identities were supposed to be a secret?"

"And what shipment are you referring to?" he added, raising an eyebrow.

"...My Kon knew. It wasn't a secret that he was cloned from Superman in my world. Luthor was the secret. I guess in this Kon's world, it's the other way around."

He snickered lightly at Quatre's next question. "Superboy shaped air-fresheners. I threatened to have them lost at sea."

Quatre buried his face in Tim's shoulder, laughing at that. "You're kidding!" Once he had stopped laughing, he asked, "What did he do as Superboy? I mean, was he basically a superhero for hire?"

"Not at all. I can't remember if they were 'pine fresh' or 'spring scent,' but they were just about the tackiest things I'd ever heard of. The world would have suffered no loss for their disappearance." He shook his head at Quatre's next question. "No--not for hire. He worked with Cadmus a lot, and he helped where he was needed. Cadmus was good guys, and Kon wanted to be like Superman--to help people."

Stifling a giggle at the silliness of the idea, Quatre asked, "So...what happened then?"

Tim shrugged. "Not much to say. He came and helped me take out Metallo, then he went back to Hawaii... with Poison Ivy. So then I had to track the two of *them* down and try to break her influence over him." He grimaced slightly. "I played kind of dirty, though--in my defense--that's the only chance someone like me has of taking down someone like him. I used Kryptonite."

Quatre looked up at him. "Why did you need to get him away from Poison Ivy? What was she doing to him?" He never doubted that Tim would have only done such a thing if there was no other way, and against someone who could easily break every bone in his body with the flick of a finger?

"She was getting him to help her turn Hawaii into a place for plants only--plants that would choke out human life. I couldn't let her do that." He made a face. "And then Metallo showed up to try to steal my Kryptonite--he uses it to power his systems. We beat them, though--eventually."

"Metallo...another super hero? I mean...wait..." he frowned, "Super enemy? And how did she manage to convince someone like Kon that choking out human life would be a good thing?"

Tim laughed a little. He had forgotten that not everyone knew these names as well as he did. "No--they're both bad guys. And Poison Ivy used her pheremones to make Kon pretty much lust-drunk and very biddable. When he was away from her, he was okay, but any time he was in range..."

"Pheremones? She had control over those kinds of things?" Quatre pondered this. "So...her power had to do with plants and chemicals?"

"Got it in one," Tim agreed. "She's a Gotham crazy. We're used to dealing with her there, but Kon wasn't. He didn't know what to expect."

"Huh..." The whole idea of fighting people with powers like that was still so foreign to him. In his world, the evil people usually came in mobile suits, or as middle-management. "How does one fight against that, though? What are her weaknesses? And how do you break through the spell of pheremones?"

"You can't touch her with your skin, because she's poison to touch, and we usually use rebreathers when she's around--we've been hit with enough of her various pollens and pheremones that repeat experiences aren't exactly a thing to look forward to. Once you deal with that, though--and get her away from her plants--she's not that hard. And," he smiled, blushing a little. "She has a weakness for Robins."

At this, the blond looked both bemused and amused. "Really? Do tell..." This ought to be interesting, and he snuggled in a bit closer to his brother, just enjoying his company.

Tim blushed harder. "No--nothing like that. She just likes kids. It's part of... I guess you could say her psychosis, though it's not a bad thing in this case. She's protective of lives the she thinks can't defend themselves--like plants and kids. She just goes a little far in her defense of them."

"Why is she like that?" Quatre asked, curious. "Was she born with her powers? Was she an outcast?"

"She wasn't born with powers--someone poisoned her as part of an experiment, and it drove her crazy even as it gave her her powers." Tim frowned a little. Of all the people he and Batman had to deal with in Gotham--Ivy was one of the few he felt sorry for sometimes.

Quatre felt sorry for her, too, and his face showed it. "Then...she's a criminal because....because of someone else's mistake? Or malice..."
W1ndrBoy003 (1:43:54 AM): Tim nodded. "Yes." He didn't know the full situation on Ivy's origins, but the barebones report was enough to make him feel sorry for her.

"That's.....I've seen that kind of thing happen before." His lips pursed together. "Minus the chemicals and plants.... What about Metallo? Did he have power over metal or something?" It would figure, anyway.

"Yeah... kind of. He could use any metal and make it part of him. He was a jerk before he became Metallo--which he did to be able to beat Superman--and he got even worse after. He can't feel anymore--he's like a machine, and it makes him angry."

It was interesting to ponder the differences there, and to note the complete lack of sympathy in Tim's voice as he talked about the former man. "What do you do with the criminals like him, once they've been caught?" He imagined that in his world they might be able to hold Metallo in a gundam hangar....

"We have a prison called 'The Slab,' which is where we take high-powered meta criminals like him. It's in Antarctica, and it has some pretty massive security." He made a face. No system was perfect, though, and there were breakouts--even from The Slab. "Usually, it holds them."

"And....when it doesn't, they break out and wreak havoc?" Quatre guessed accurately. "You and the others must have a lot of personal vendettas against you because of that."

"Pretty much," Tim agreed. The way Quatre described it made things sound pretty bleak. "And there are a lot of personal grudges. That's why most of us have villains who generally gun for us personally." Including Tim.

Quatre's mind seemed to follow the same general thread, because he asked then, "Who...goes after you, specifically?"

Tim considered Quatre's question for a moment. "Well, the Joker--though that's as much to get to Batman as it is a simple desire to kill me, so he doesn't really count. Cluemaster--I dated his daughter. Most of Batman's Rogue's Gallery."

"The Joker...the Cluemaster..." he seemed to be committing these names to memory. Whoever was Tim's enemy, was also Quatre's enemy. "Who is in the Rogue's Gallery?"

Tim laughed. "You have a pencil handy? Joker, Scarecrow, Penguin. Poison Ivy. Catwoman... sometimes. Riddler, Two Face, Mad Hatter... All of the crime bosses. And the Cluemaster's kind of a two-bit bad guy--works with the Riddler sometimes. Steph is his daughter." He felt a sharp pang of something between sadness and anger when he thought of Stephanie. She... had been alive. All this time and she just... hadn't told him.

"I remember you telling me about him...and what he did to Stephanie. How he treated her." Tim just hadn't mentioned his villain's code-name. The pang caught his attention- he felt it through their connection, and looked up at Tim, reaching a hand to his cheek. "What's wrong?" A look of deep concern passed over his face.

Tim opened his mouth to give a pacifying lie--much like he'd done with others over the past few weeks--and then closed it again. Quatre would know anyway, and... He *wanted* to tell someone about it. "It's not... anything that should be wrong. It's a good thing. Steph--I told you about her--I thought she was dead, but she's alive."

Quatre's eyes widened slightly at this. Even if Tim hadn't told Quatre about Stephanie, he would have felt just how important this was to his friend. As if to ease the dark feelings that swirled around him, Quatre's fingers stroked Tim's cheek gently. "Tell me what happened..."

"Over a year ago," Tim began haltingly. "She died. She was tortured to death by someone who wanted information on Batman's plans. She went to Dr. Leslie, and she died there--there was nothing she could do. That was the story, anyway. Apparently she lived, and Dr, Leslie smuggled her to Africa. She's been there ever since." While I was grieving for her, he added silently. And killing myself over what happened to her. He had blamed himself for so long...

Quatre knew where his thoughts would go, and so he seemed to almost be reading them when he shifted slightly to look Tim in the eyes, his hand resting against Tim's cheek. "She must have had a good reason to do what she did...otherwise...she never would have put you through such pain. She would have known better, wouldn't she?"

Tim shrugged. "I don't know," he said after a long pause. "She's... not always very thoughtful. She didn't even tell her *mom* where she was." He closed his eyes, his face set in a scowl. "How could she do that to us?"

Quatre looked down as Tim closed his eyes. His fingers began to stroke the other boy's cheek again, soothing him and drawing a little tension with their movements. "Did you have a chance to contact her? To talk to her?"

"We worked together," he replied shortly. "Everyone else was missing, so she and I worked together, but it wasn't... like before."

"You didn't trust her anymore." Quatre murmured. "You didn't think you could... Did she try to explain herself?"

"She... did. It wasn't much of an explanation. Her excuse was that Bruce knew." It wasn't much of an excuse either.

"But...she didn't say *why*?" he prodded gently. It would help- he hoped- for Tim to talk about his feelings here.

"She said that--after everything--she needed a break from our life. That doesn't explain why even her *mom* had to think she was dead."

That didn't sound right, especially not from what he had told Quatre about Steph before. "Do you really believe that was her only reason?" he asked quietly. There might be more to it that Tim was too upset to see. Quatre understood his feelings, and wasn't belittling them at all, but he knew how much Tim had loved her, and he jated to see his dear friend in pain over it, especially when there might be more to the story.

"I don't know," Tim said, a little helplessly. "It was all she told me." And the whole thing had been such a shock that he hadn't been able to think about asking more questions beyond what she'd said, and then after that he was too confused to ask.

"Give yourself some time to think about it." the other soothed. His lips curved into a deep frown. "I'm sorry she hurt you...especially after all you've been through." He really felt it, and the pain for his friend showed in his large eyes.

"I've been trying," Tim muttered, leaning his head against Quatre's. "But--God--we had a funeral for her and everything, and I keep seeing *that* everytime I try to figure out what she was thinking."

"It'll take a long time." the other replied to this. Fingertips moved down to run gently along Tim's neck, and thin tendrils of unseen black crawled up them with each pass. "After that....and I don't blame you for what you feel now. You cared too much then...you still do." he paused. "Do...you feel angry with Bruce because he knew, and didn't tell you?"

Tim grew still for a moment, considering the question. "Yes," he said finally. "I am. He knew how badly I took her death and he just... let me hurt... and let me be angry with him over it." Because he had been angry with Bruce over Stephanie's death, and the lack of respect he felt it had received.

Quatre felt like his face would form into a permanent frown. "Oh, Tim.... I'm so sorry... how could he be so...so cold?" Perhaps Bruce had promised Steph that he wouldn't say anything, and his previous attitude toward her death now made sense, but it still made Quatre feel angry toward him for Tim's sake. "I suppose that's how he is... Maybe he doesn't know how to react to things properly anymore. And...perhaps she had made him promise not to say anything? Would he keep such a promise, even if it hurt you?"

"He didn't promise her. He wasn't... sure. Not until she came back, but he suspected." And he could have said something. They'd fought so many times over the memorial that hadn't been built for her--that should have been next to the one that had been built for Jason, and he was alive again! "He could have said something."

Quatre turned this over in his mind. "After what you'd all gone through ....maybe...maybe he didn't want to give you false hope? If he wasn't sure. Would you have told everyone what you suspected in his place?" This was both a question to get him to look at things differently, but also because he wanted to know what Tim would have done.

"Maybe," Tim conceded grudgingly. "I don't know. If I had been Bruce... I don't know. I went to some pretty dark places over the last year and change. I might have said something... I needed hope. There wasn't a lot of it for a long time."

The blond nodded against his shoulder. "I don't say he was right...but I know how much you look up to Bruce, and how much...you loved her. You said you needed hope...maybe you also need hope that...that they had better reasons for what they did. That it wasn't them not caring about you." He shuddered slightly. "I know where you've been...and... Tim, it hurt you so much..."

"I know they care," Tim mumbled, turning his face into Quatre's hair. "And I can understand Bruce not saying something--mostly--and I guess Steph has the right to pretend to be dead if she wants... I just wish... it hadn't had to hurt so much." Because Quatre had been right--it had hurt him a lot. Enough that he'd felt sometimes like that jumper he'd talked off the ledge that night--ready to take a final step to make all the hurt stop.

"I know......" the blond murmured into his shoulder. he'd been there, too, and the darkness had nearly consumed him. "Others were...there to save us....when we couldn't save ourselves. And....I'm so glad you didn't give into it. more glad than I can ever say..." Thin fingers clutched onto Tim's shirt.

Tim let out a sigh and rested his head against Quatre's. "I'm glad that you had people to help you, too. I would have missed not knowing you."

At that, Quatre smiled a bit, and snuggled closer into his friend. Slowly, the fingers in Tim's shirt relaxed, and then began to rub the other boy's side gently. No matter what battles were ahead, or what darkness they had had to stumble through, at least they were both here, together. That helped, a lot.