What I did on my Spring Break
Title: The Living Ones
Summary: The Cult of Conner succeeds, and Tim just wants to figure it all out.
Fandom: DC (Teen Titans/52)
Word Count: 797
Rating/Warnings: PG, AU, general 52 spoilers, slash
Pairing: Tim/Kon
A/N: This was my fic for amarin_rose at axial_tilt, and my first time writing Tim/Kon. I strongly recommend that you check out the (New Frontier!) fic I got, glossing's (s)excellent Some Enchanted Evening.
He's supposed to be completely unreachable. That's the idea, with this whole quest thing, but leave it to Babs to find him, especially in the farthest end of nowhere. He's glad of the contact, really; if nothing else, it means nothing new has exploded.
But then Cassie comes on the line.
Her voice is strained; she clearly doesn’t want to be having this conversation. She’s uncharacteristically short with him, even considering all the drama they’ve been through. It’s the most bizarrely calm conversation he’s ever had: we’re fine, wish you were here, I’m in a cult, Conner’s not dead anymore.
When he leaves, he’s sure that Bruce understands, but he’s equally sure Bruce feels that he has failed somehow.
He can't, doesn't sleep when he comes back to Gotham. He stares unceasingly at the monitors in the Batcave, paging through file after file. The Batman may be gone, but his eyes are still everywhere.
He keeps watching the same two videos over and over, until they've burned themselves into the backs of his eyelids. A button camera on someone's costume- Green Arrow, he thinks- the quality's horrible and the audio nonexistent, but he still can't stop watching.
It's a ritual- he's got a file detailing it- and, honestly, the hooded figures don't look like they're all that good at it. It’s almost boring, honestly, up until the point where something- the part he can’t explain- happens to the doll with Sue Dibny’s face. She stands, she walks, she talks, and Tim is completely startled every time.
The second is only a few seconds long. The now familiar ring of cloaks, the same ritual, except at the end, he can just see the tantalizing glimpse of a dark-haired figure rising from the dais.
He hits the road in his thirty-fifth hour of consciousness, plain clothes and old tennis shoes, tracing old paths. First stop is the Dibnys’, naturally. Mrs. Dibny is expecting him, all calm and pressed with a plate of warm cookies. That’s the way he had always wanted to remember her- always so very warm. Ralph is so glued to her side that he almost seems like an extension of her. In itself, that’s not new, but it’s different. It’s like he’s holding on for dear life.
When he brings up Conner, he feels just barely like he’s broached something taboo, and he can’t put his finger on why.
“He’s not himself lately,” Mrs. Dibny tells him, with a sigh, and Tim just barely keeps himself from asking who would be.
As he leaves for his next stop, he keeps replaying their visit in his mind, trying to study it from every possible angle. He’s almost certain that the Sue that’s walking around is the real one, though he can’t explain why just yet. It’s not Sue that’s bothering him, though.
Cassie is next on his list. When she opens the door, he realizes she’s been crying, and he immediately regrets even having come.
“Just go see him,” she tells him, cutting him off before he can even get started, pushing him out the door with an address and no further explanation.
He’s stopped counting the hours by the time he reaches the appointed location, stopping in front of the hotel to stare it down, as if it’s taunting him. He almost gets lost in the corridors, which he decides would be the most anticlimactic thing that’s ever happened to him.
He finally finds his way down the third identical strip of carpet, and it only takes him a few minutes to bring himself to knock. Automatically, the door of the room swings open slowly, and there he is, Conner, not a scratch on him, just the way he looked the last time Tim saw him.
And then, someone steps forward- Tim will not be able to remember later who was first- and they’re kissing. Part of his brain is screaming at him that this is not okay, but it just makes so much damn sense that he can’t even bring himself to fight it.
It’s like somebody let the sun back into his world. He’s gone lightheaded; the thought of a tabloid headline flashes in his mind: “Superboy’s Back- And He’s Gay!” and he can’t even stop laughing for long enough to explain what’s so funny.
They make it into the room, somehow. Conner sits him down on the bed with that face that says he’s about to say something really important, but Tim is so completely drained that he just collapses into his lap, arms around his waist in case he tries to vanish into thin air.
As Conner smiles down at him, Tim realizes he’s holding on for dear life, and he wonders which one of them is really back from the dead.
Summary: The Cult of Conner succeeds, and Tim just wants to figure it all out.
Fandom: DC (Teen Titans/52)
Word Count: 797
Rating/Warnings: PG, AU, general 52 spoilers, slash
Pairing: Tim/Kon
A/N: This was my fic for amarin_rose at axial_tilt, and my first time writing Tim/Kon. I strongly recommend that you check out the (New Frontier!) fic I got, glossing's (s)excellent Some Enchanted Evening.
He's supposed to be completely unreachable. That's the idea, with this whole quest thing, but leave it to Babs to find him, especially in the farthest end of nowhere. He's glad of the contact, really; if nothing else, it means nothing new has exploded.
But then Cassie comes on the line.
Her voice is strained; she clearly doesn’t want to be having this conversation. She’s uncharacteristically short with him, even considering all the drama they’ve been through. It’s the most bizarrely calm conversation he’s ever had: we’re fine, wish you were here, I’m in a cult, Conner’s not dead anymore.
When he leaves, he’s sure that Bruce understands, but he’s equally sure Bruce feels that he has failed somehow.
He can't, doesn't sleep when he comes back to Gotham. He stares unceasingly at the monitors in the Batcave, paging through file after file. The Batman may be gone, but his eyes are still everywhere.
He keeps watching the same two videos over and over, until they've burned themselves into the backs of his eyelids. A button camera on someone's costume- Green Arrow, he thinks- the quality's horrible and the audio nonexistent, but he still can't stop watching.
It's a ritual- he's got a file detailing it- and, honestly, the hooded figures don't look like they're all that good at it. It’s almost boring, honestly, up until the point where something- the part he can’t explain- happens to the doll with Sue Dibny’s face. She stands, she walks, she talks, and Tim is completely startled every time.
The second is only a few seconds long. The now familiar ring of cloaks, the same ritual, except at the end, he can just see the tantalizing glimpse of a dark-haired figure rising from the dais.
He hits the road in his thirty-fifth hour of consciousness, plain clothes and old tennis shoes, tracing old paths. First stop is the Dibnys’, naturally. Mrs. Dibny is expecting him, all calm and pressed with a plate of warm cookies. That’s the way he had always wanted to remember her- always so very warm. Ralph is so glued to her side that he almost seems like an extension of her. In itself, that’s not new, but it’s different. It’s like he’s holding on for dear life.
When he brings up Conner, he feels just barely like he’s broached something taboo, and he can’t put his finger on why.
“He’s not himself lately,” Mrs. Dibny tells him, with a sigh, and Tim just barely keeps himself from asking who would be.
As he leaves for his next stop, he keeps replaying their visit in his mind, trying to study it from every possible angle. He’s almost certain that the Sue that’s walking around is the real one, though he can’t explain why just yet. It’s not Sue that’s bothering him, though.
Cassie is next on his list. When she opens the door, he realizes she’s been crying, and he immediately regrets even having come.
“Just go see him,” she tells him, cutting him off before he can even get started, pushing him out the door with an address and no further explanation.
He’s stopped counting the hours by the time he reaches the appointed location, stopping in front of the hotel to stare it down, as if it’s taunting him. He almost gets lost in the corridors, which he decides would be the most anticlimactic thing that’s ever happened to him.
He finally finds his way down the third identical strip of carpet, and it only takes him a few minutes to bring himself to knock. Automatically, the door of the room swings open slowly, and there he is, Conner, not a scratch on him, just the way he looked the last time Tim saw him.
And then, someone steps forward- Tim will not be able to remember later who was first- and they’re kissing. Part of his brain is screaming at him that this is not okay, but it just makes so much damn sense that he can’t even bring himself to fight it.
It’s like somebody let the sun back into his world. He’s gone lightheaded; the thought of a tabloid headline flashes in his mind: “Superboy’s Back- And He’s Gay!” and he can’t even stop laughing for long enough to explain what’s so funny.
They make it into the room, somehow. Conner sits him down on the bed with that face that says he’s about to say something really important, but Tim is so completely drained that he just collapses into his lap, arms around his waist in case he tries to vanish into thin air.
As Conner smiles down at him, Tim realizes he’s holding on for dear life, and he wonders which one of them is really back from the dead.