future hypothetical tense
The day Ultraman mentions it in passing, Tim takes the scalpel from his kit which he will leave behind, as he has always planned to be able to leave everything behind and positions the mirrors carefully. Using a camera would be easier, of course, but there are certain things he's not going to leave, such as the steadiness of his hands (so well taught) and the bright warm thread of blood down the side of his neck. Action, intent, purpose: these are the things he keeps to himself no matter who he is, or who he's becoming. Everything else is valued, all the more so for its transience. Even Bruce. Even bruises and cracked ribs and tension.
The communicator congeals where it fell on the floor. Tim presses a bloody hand print to Bruce's pillow it still smells like him (I know you know I know you know) even though he rarely sleeps there and smiles for the camera. It's no more and no less than he knew it to be when he came here. It's only as if the universe has finally confirmed what he's always suspected about himself, his own tendencies, his inability to accept what he isn't. And he has learned enough (long nights, laughing even) that that grief is strange, and regret alien. These are foregone things, as is his father-who-isn't-his-father's death, as is the boy who once wore his face in this place. It's only what has always been true in him, a crooked vein of deficiency, as he has known since he first failed to recognize his face behind the mask.