I: you do understand that I hadn't taken advantage of you, right?
T: what? When?
I: At New Year's Eve.
T: out of all the times I could have been drunk and I chose that one... Such a shame.
I: you mean you don't remember...? Okay then, good night.
T: Wait up.
I: what now?
T: was I a bad kisser?
I: no, you were actually one of the best I've ever had. (This message has been deleted).
T: next time if you do take advantage of me, make sure I'm at least sober enough to remember it.
I: I said I hadn't taken advantage of you, Timothy!
***
The rooftop was empty when Tim reached there, a bottle of bourbon clutched in his hands that he had sneaked out from the party going downstairs.
He had had a rather rough day and was feeling extremely downcast. Since coffee couldn't elevate his mood at the moment, he had taken Jay's advice and resorted to the quickest way of escape.
By getting drunk to temporarily forget the pain.
He corked open the bottle, sitting down in a corner, leaning against the wall as he took a deep gulp from it.
The harsh liquid burned down his throat and he ended up coughing since his body wasn't used to alcohol at all. But rather adamant, he downed the liquid ignoring the scorching feeling that had erupted in his insides.
After two to three times of doing that, the alcohol in his system began to work and a cloud of unawareness began to tighten its hold over him.
Gradually but steadily all the worries in his head started to fade, leaving him in a state of blithe ignorance. He stood up, stumbled then regained his balance, and walked towards the railings.
Glancing down at the wide city expanse underneath, he was only thinking how he had always been so occupied that he never got to embrace the beauty of daily life.
But along with that thought came a wave of bitter realization; he had never appreciated what he had because he had always been rushing to fulfill all the expectations people had from him.
People who were important to him such as Bruce, Richard, his brothers and friends like Stephanie and Barbara.
And along with these people who were family to him, came the burdensome heap of the expectations the citizens of Gotham had from him as Red Robin.
In the race to fulfill everyone's expectations, he had neglected himself entirely and had never prioritized his needs or wants.
And this sense of self depreciation had begun to eat him up from the inside, leaving him rather troubled and broken.
He had the burden of being the perfect son, the protege, the genius detective as well as the city's protector weighing him down, but never once had he let that come to the surface.
But that night, it seemed as if his self control had had enough and he wasn't capable of bearing it all anymore. And since he could not fail in the eyes of people who looked up to him, he had yet again chosen his own demise.
Glancing down, he wondered what would happen if he ended everything then and there. True, his family would get hurt but they would never find out how truly damaged he had been.
For one second he actually considered jumping down the roof, swift as a robin plunging down to his end. An end where there would be no pain, no worries, no expectations.
Just eternal sleep.
The idea was more than tempting to him as he placed his feet at the edge, taking a deep breath trying to soak in the feeling of being alive inside him for the last time.
And when he was certain that he had absorbed enough and if he stayed longer he would end up changing his mind, he simply let go.
The wind brushed past him roughly but to him it seemed as if it was caressing his skin, inviting him to the realms of death. His eyes watered so he squeezed them shut knowing that the crash would happen any moment.
Then there would be silence instead of the blood pounding in his ears, and the sickening cracks of bones breaking would be drowned in the clamor of the New Year party.
No one would find out until early next morning when the citizens would start returning to their houses. And by then, there would be no chance to bring him back and he would inevitably be laid down to his grave.
He waited for the hit but nothing happened. He dared not open his eyes because surely the last thing he wanted to see could not be his own blood littering the street.
But still nothing happened.
There was no crash, there was no sound of breaking bones, there wasn't even any rush of agonizing pain.
Nothing.
The music from the party was still blasting in the background, the wind was just as pleasantly rough as before but he felt nothing like what he had expected.
The first thought crossing his mind was that maybe his heart had stopped the second his feet left the solid floor. Maybe he had died before hitting the ground and transitioned smoothly into the afterlife. That could be the only reason why he felt no pain upon his collision with the hard cemented pavement below.
And a voice as clear as the silvery peel of wind chimes called out to him from above, making him think it was an angel.
He couldn't comprehend the words so he waited for the angelic voice to speak again and dared not open his eyes fearing that the trance would be broken.
And true enough he heard it clear the second time.
"What the absolute fuck, Timothy?"
Surprised at the angel's choice of words, he was still wondering whether it was heaven or hell when he felt a sharp jerk as if he had been thrown roughly on the ground. But not as roughly as it would have been, had he crashed down from a height of 200 feet.
A palm collided with his face in a slap as someone shook him roughly, "wake up, you moron."
Deciding that he was definitely in hell judging by the hostile treatment he had just received, he opened his eyes but was surprised to see no fiery flames or scorching heat. He was back at the rooftop, the bottle of bourbon smashed beside him and holding him by his collar was no angel.
It was her. The masked vigilante who had saved him twice before as well.
Her red lips were turned down in a scowl and in the darkness she looked rather intimidating, "was this a suicide attempt?"
He blinked twice, trying to make sense of what was happening. When he gave her no response, her palm collided with his cheek again in a swift slap.
"Sober up. Or else you'll have to endure more of this. Trust me I don't like it any more than you do. But I'll have to if you don't give me a convincing answer."
His lips parted as if to say something but no words came out. It seemed as if he was still in shock. And when he did speak up at last, the words were stringed together in a confused question, "I haven't died?"
"No."
"Shit."
She sighed wearily, sitting down cross legged in front of him, "what happened?"
"Nothing."
"People don't try to commit suicide for nothing."
He gave no reply and just looked down at the smithereens of the bourbon bottle, trying to absorb the fact that he had failed yet again.
"Tim, what's wrong?" She tried again in a softer tone and that once she gently interlaced his fingers through hers, a gesture that took him by surprise. "Why were you at the rooftop when you know very well that it's dangerous to be at such a great height when you're not fully in your senses?"
He didn't reply but hung his head low as if ashamed.
"Tim, you can tell me if something is bothering you," she resumed gently, squeezing his hands a bit in reassurance, "I know you're not the kind of guy who gets drunk for no reason and I know you would never willingly choose to die."
"You don't know me."
She nodded, "but that could be fixed, right? If you allow me to get to know you, I'll do the same."
Normally, she would never have been that gentle with him. She would probably have scolded him for being stupid and jumping off a roof, just like she had done so once before as well. But the broken look in his eyes made her think opposite.
"Everyone... Everyone expects so much from me that I just can't put up with the burden most of the times," he spoke in broken tones, since it was hard for him to articulate his thoughts with the alcohol still clouding over his senses, "I get so scared of what would happen if they came to know how I truly feel that I... I... I'm not worth all their expectations but I can never tell them because I don't want them to leave me."
She had never thought that Timothy Drake, the perfect Wayne child, had been so terribly broken inside. Sadness took over her features because she understood his state and sympathized with him. She wanted to make him feel better because he truly did not deserve that sort of intense conflict raging inside him.
"Hey, don't think like that," she spoke, "they are your family, they will never stop caring nor will they ever leave you."
He sighed, staring ahead of him aimlessly, "my real parents never cared for me either. So what reason do I have to expect that this time it would be any different?"
His words cut her to the core because that was exactly what she had experienced herself too.
"Tim, sometimes you just have to take a chance."
"If you had gone through what I have suffered over these years, you would probably not be that optimistic," his reply was bitter though deep inside, his heart was contradicting those words itself.
Bruce had cared for him more than his real father would and he knew that. Even in that state of subconsciousness, he was aware of it very well.
And probably that was why he was so scared of letting Bruce down.
"I know exactly how you feel," her voice was hushed but those words made him look up, "my father doesn't care whether I exist or not. He never has. I'm just a mistake to him which he had made long ago and couldn't correct it. I've lived with my aunt ever since I remembered, but just a few months ago, Dad said that he wanted me to come stay with him. He still doesn't care, the only difference is that now I see him being indifferent to me everyday."
"And your aunt?"
"She's the best person I've known. You could say she has treated me exactly like Bruce has treated you. She never made me feel that I wasn't her daughter. And you know what, she was the one who trained me to become a vigilante."
Tim was listening attentively to her as the drowsiness from the liquor had started to fade.
"I know that even though my father wouldn't change but still my aunt would remain just as loving and caring as she is now," a small smile flickered on her face as she retrieved her hands.
"So you mean to say that Bruce won't stop caring for me?"
"No. You don't have to pressurize yourself into being what others want you to be. And if he is truly sincere with you, he would not change his behavior with you just because of that tiny reason."
He nodded as her words were starting to make sense to him.
"I have a feeling that you don't express yourself fully due to this fear of yours," she resumed, "would you like to overcome it?"
"Yes...?"
She spoke up, "is there someone you like? Someone you have a crush on?"
His cheeks flushed red as he nodded slowly.
"Great, now I want you to go to that person and confess how you feel."
The color drained from his face, "now?"
"Yes."
"Do you honestly expect that I'll be able to go and return in this state?" He was referring to the fact that he hadn't fully sobered up yet.
"Okay then, why don't you send a text?"
He seemed a bit reluctant, "I'm drunk, Ren, I would screw everything up."
She shrugged, "ever heard of Dutch courage? I know you would never do this sober. So I want you to get it over with right now. If that person likes you back, you'll get a reply. If not then you'll know there are many other people out there. It wouldn't be fair to waste your life just focusing on one person and in the future you'll find someone even better."
He hesitated but nodded after a little consideration.
"Don't worry, I'm right here," she smiled sweetly, hoping the gesture would encourage him.
He took out his phone, focusing on the screen as he typed out a text then rechecked it twice. When he was certain that he hadn't misspelled any word, he hit send.
"See, it wasn't that hard," she gave him a high five and a slight smile crept over his features as well. But shortly afterwards the system in her mask which was connected to her phone displayed an unread message. She pressed the knob on her temple so that the words could be displayed on the tiny screen in front of her eyes. It was from Tim.
"Hey, I think you sent it to me by mistake," she remarked.
His face had gone scarlet again as he shook his head, "no. There's no mistake."
She was experiencing rather mixed emotions, somewhere in the middle of surprise and amusement.
Dear Ren, I may not know who you are but I have begun to like you. A lot. You have been a great friend and helped me out through my troubles. I just want to tell you that you're a great person and I admire you for everything you've done for me and this city.
The screen vanished and Tim's face swam into focus again. He looked rather anxious, as if trying to anticipate her reaction.
With his fluttery blue eyes and the way he bit his lip to hide his nervousness, he appeared to be the most precious person in the world to her.
Too pure, too innocent and definitely not even the slightest bit of worthless like he blamed himself to be.
"I told you it would screw everything up," he mumbled at last, getting slightly fidgety.
"It's not like that," she replied with a playful smile dancing on her lips, "I like my fragile little damsel too."
His expressions transitioned from confused to surprised and then finally to a smile of pure relief. "Thank you."
After a short pause, she asked, "have you ever kissed someone before?"
Tim was rather taken aback at the abrupt question and he was a little uncertain as he replied, "no... Maybe once? Twice?"
"Would you like to try it?"
His face flushed crimson again, "what? Now?"
"Yes," she replied leaning a little closer to him, "if you want to, that is."
"I would be horrible at it," he admitted truthfully.
"You're only horrible at being confident and I'm just trying to improve that."
He hesitated, biting his lip again and her smile widened for it made him look twice more adorable. She stood up with her back towards the wall and pulled him to his feet as well.
"Don't worry, I won't judge," she added.
He hesitated at first but gently interlaced his hands through hers, leaning in a little so that he could kiss her. He had closed his eyes because deep down he was rather nervous. But instead of kissing her on the lips, he ended up kissing her nose instead.
When he pulled apart, she remarked, "that was very sweet, Tim, but you kissed my nose instead."
He blushed deeply, "oh... I'm sorry..."
"You can give it one more try, if you want."
That once, he didn't close his eyes because he had no intention of messing up again. His hold on her hands tightened as their lips connected and she cautiously kept her finger tips away so that she wouldn't end up bruising his knuckles, as the ends of the nails on her suit had been sharpened akin to claws.
The kiss was sweet and she could taste the liquor on his lips as he lingered and she gently kissed him back. He would pull apart for a bit every now and then to catch his breath and his heartbeat was racing, but then he would press his lips on hers again as if it was slowly intoxicating him.
She retrieved her hands from him and gently cupped his face at which he finally came to a halt. He was still blushing but a smile was dancing on his face as well.
"Wow, I hadn't known you'd be a natural," she remarked, "when was the last time you had kissed someone?"
"When I was seventeen."
"And ever since then you've never kissed anyone?"
"No."
"Have you never gone out on dates even?" She asked rather surprised because to her it was quite unbelievable that such a sweet considerate person like Tim would have no experience with love.
She always expected rich kids like him to be rather proficient in that department but Tim was indeed an exception.
"I never had the time," he replied vaguely.
She nodded, "well, you know what even though this has been quite breath taking, I think you're a little out of practice and could do with a demonstration."
She switched sides with him and he leaned against the wall, looking at her as if curious to see what she would do next, "okay..."
"Just so you don't get startled, I'm telling you beforehand. I'm going to kiss you and you'll later replicate that, are we good?"
He didn't know how to respond so he merely nodded in affirmation.
"Any time you want me to stop, just tell me, okay?" She added knowing that he was probably feeling rather awkward by the whole scenario.
But the point was that after that kiss with him, she too was craving for more. Never before had she felt that way with anyone but it seemed as if Timothy Drake unknowingly did every single thing that made her want him badly.
"Ready?"
"Yeah," he nodded, looking straight into her eyes that once, even though he had been rather shy at first.
Upon receiving the permission from him, she pinned him to the wall and kissed him passionately. He was slightly shocked by the intensity but responded immediately, one hand entangled in her hair and the other holding her close by the waist.
He gave her access when her tongue brushed over his lips tentatively. The bitter taste of bourbon was still present in his mouth and to him, she tasted sweet and savory like chocolate.
She pulled apart since they were both rather out of breath but left a trail of kisses down his neck which made him shiver a little.
It seemed as if time had stopped for the two but after a rather long time, she finally stopped, hand gently caressing his cheek.
"Your turn," she breathed.
And rather surprisingly, he didn't hesitate before pinning her to the wall, replicating exactly what she had done. She was impressed at his fast pick up level for it seemed as if he had memorized each movement perfectly.
Her breathing was erratic and for the first time ever, she felt truly exhilarated by kissing someone.
But they had to pull apart rather soon since she heard the door to the rooftop open.
Knowing that it was time to make her escape, she kissed him lightly on the cheek and climbed off the roof. Tim glanced down but she had vanished and spun round quickly when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"There you are, Babybird," he recognized Jason's smooth drawl, "we've been looking for you everywhere."
He saw Damian standing beside him with a frown on his face.
"I was hoping you had left us for good," the teenager mumbled.
"Ah come on, that's not the case," Jay wrapped his arm around his lean frame, making him walk towards the door that led downstairs, "I realized that I shouldn't have let you get drunk. What if you had jumped off the building?"
Tim didn't reply but Damian snapped again in a barely audible voice, "would have been the best New Year present to me."
However, Jay had heard him so he took him aside, "do not be so hostile, you hear me? Or else I'll throw you down the roof."
He merely scowled in reply because he knew it was foolish to anger Jay as he could get rather intimidating, even by Dami's standards.
"Check the roof, I heard noises," he resumed in a low voice so that Tim wouldn't hear him, "I'm certain that he was there with someone else."
Damian shrugged before heading back to conduct his search. On the other hand, Jason took Tim downstairs and soon as they stepped into the light, he clearly noticed the hickeys on his neck and his slightly swollen lips.
"What were you up to, Babybird?" He asked, rather alarmed because he had not expected to find him like that.
"Nothing."
He raised an eyebrow suspiciously, "really?"
"Yup."
Jason took off his jacket and made him wear it, pulling the collar up so that it would hide the love bites on his pale skin.
"You look a mess, trust me."
Tim shrugged, dropping his head on his shoulder, "still better than finding me dead in the street, don't you think?"
Jay's steel blue eyes widened in alarm, "hold up, this is definitely not the time for your pessimistic remarks."
"Can you take me to my room? Please?"
"Alright," he scooped him up in his arms, knowing that he was lighter than a feather stuffed pillow.
Damian returned and shook his head, conveying that there was no one else on the rooftop.
He was rather surprised because he didn't expect whoever that was with Tim to vanish into thin air. But knowing that at the moment his first priority was Tim, he decided to ponder over it later and carried him to his bedroom.
Gently placing him down on the bed, he tucked him in his blanket, "good night, Tim."
He replied in a faint whisper, "good night, Jaybird. And thank you."
Shutting off the lights and securing the locks on the windows, he stepped out at last, closing the door behind him.
He was still rather confused regarding the disappearance of Tim's secret love interest but shrugged off the feeling, deciding that it wasn't his job to unnecessarily pry into whatever happened in Tim's life. And he knew very well that Tim would never want him to interfere in his love life whatsoever.
***
When Tim woke up the next morning, his head was throbbing as if someone had repeatedly smashed him headfirst into a wall. He filled a glass of water from the jug placed on his bedside table, downing it one gulp and refilling it to drink that as well.
He realized that he was probably hungover from last night. He didn't remember much except for the fact that he had nicked a bottle of bourbon and finished it.
Rubbing his head he headed to the bathroom, filling the tub with hot water. He had never been hungover before so it seemed twice more terrible to him and he couldn't imagine how Richard and Jason could so easily put up with it all the time.
After a long soothing bath that relaxed his nerves a lot, he emerged changing into his usual clothing. He was drying his head off with a towel when he passed the mirror and stopped immediately.
At first he thought it was a a trick of the light, but when he wiped off the mist on the glass with his palm, his reflection became clearer and he almost passed out in shock.
"Shit, shit, shit," he rushed out to his room, fumbling for his glasses because he couldn't be certain about anything he saw without his specs.
But the reflection was just the same which had shocked him terribly at the first time. A trail of hickeys was prominently visible on his neck, the bluish red marks contrasting vividly with his otherwise pale skin.
For a few minutes he stood there in shock, fingers gently tracing the marks on his neck as if trying to make sure that he wasn't hallucinating. He couldn't comprehend how he could have gotten so drunk to end up in such a situation and also not remember anything about it.
However, he didn't want to leave for work without breakfast, so he quickly took off his shirt. Because he knew very well that if he wore that to work, he would not hear the end of it from his colleagues.
But unfortunately for him, he had no such shirts that could help in covering up his neck. The only outfit that would cover it all up nicely was his Red Robin suit but that could definitely not be worn to work.
"Fuck," he swore a little louder that he usually would, "I'm screwed."
A knock upon his door shook him out of his misery so he stood up to answer it. Jason was waiting outside much to his surprise.
"Oh my, Babybird," he whistled seeing Tim like that, "someone's looking a hot mess today. If only Dick could see you like that... He'd have to pay me fifty bucks and that's a given."
"What do you want?" Tim asked wearily.
"Its a matter of what you want rather than the other way round," he threw a turtleneck shirt at him to catch, "figured it would come in handy.
Tim didn't bother to ask him how he knew because that would only give Jay more reason to gloat at him. However he appreciated his gesture as he put on the shirt immediately.
"It's a little baggy on the shoulders but I don't think that would be too noticeable. Other than that it fits," Jay remarked, keenly checking him over to make sure that he looked okay, "you're lucky I still kept this one because the rest of my shirts would definitely be way too large on you."
"And how old is it, judging by the size?" Tim adjusted the turtleneck so that it went all the way up to his neck.
"It's from those days when I was into skin tight clothing. Not very old but very revealing in my case. That's the only reason it almost fits you."
"Thanks, Jay."
"And I might have some leather trousers that don't fit me anymore since those are from the same days as this turtleneck beauty, so if you're willing..."
But he politely refused, "you know I don't do leather. Not my type."
"You'd look good in them, come on now let me show you," Jay tried to drag Tim out but he grabbed the door frame in order to resist him.
"That's really considerate of you but I'm running late already and if I go with you to your closet now, I'll have to miss breakfast."
He shrugged nonchalantly, "okay then, your loss."
He walked off to the staircase to head downstairs for breakfast so Tim followed as well.
However, glancing at the grandfather clock in the dining room, he realized that he would get late if he stayed so he quickly grabbed two slices of toast, placed some omelette in between and rushed out so that he wouldn't miss the bus.
"Was that your shirt?" Richard remarked as he passed Jay a glass of juice.
"What shirt?"
"The one Tim was wearing, I'm sure it used to be yours."
Jason shrugged, "so what? I told him he could borrow it anytime. Besides it doesn't even fit me anymore."
He rose an eyebrow skeptically "Tim doesn't wear turtlenecks, it's suffocating to him."
"Well, people change, Dickybird. Look at you, did you not grow out of your Discowing costume?"
"I get your point, no need to elaborate."
"Though I must say it was an absolute shocker. I still can't believe that Bruce let you wear such an atrocity on patrol."
"Hey," he looked rather offended, "it was not an atrocity, it was a complete fashion statement."
"Lay off him, Todd," Damian spoke up, "it was his first attempt at designing a suit so I don't think he should be blamed really."
Richard looked at him with an adoring smile on his face, "that's my Dami. I'm so proud of you."
Jason shrugged, "but do you remember your first time, BabyBat? The hood, pants and boots actually improved the Robin suit."
A smirk danced on his face and his green eyes sparked in amusement, "well, I'm the son of Batman. Of course I would never screw anything up, be it my first attempt or last."
"He's literally a mini Bruce," Jay shuddered, taking his plate to the kitchen as he had finished.
"Though I'm pretty sure Tim would have a lot to say about all the times you might have screwed up," Richard mumbled.
Damian must have heard him for he glared at him, "I'm warning you, Grayson; do not bring Drake into this. Or else I will never take your side again if you and Todd ever have an argument."
"Easy there, Dami, I was just making a relevant point."
"And I don't care about your point since anything with Drake in it is completely irrelevant."
***
Tim was lucky that he didn't miss the bus and arrived at LexCorp in time. He had just settled on his desk and placed his bag down when all of a sudden silence gripped his other colleagues indicating that Irina Luthor had arrived.
He barely glanced up to see her walking past his desk, stopping at the head of the room.
"Any latecomers today?" She asked, taking out her laptop and placing it on her desk.
"We all arrived on time," someone from the rest of the people spoke up.
"Good," she smiled at them and soon enough a presentation was displayed on the projector screen.
Unlike usual days, she was wearing a rather high collared jacket, something which Tim hadn't failed to notice.
"Oh and Mr Drake, you'll not be working in my department anymore," she spoke in an effortlessly calm tone though it did make him slightly nervous as to what could be expected next, "since you are way too advanced for this level, I had talked to Thomas and he has accepted to take you in his department. Most unfortunately, I don't deal with rather large scale projects as of yet, but soon as I start working on them I'll request your assistance."
He had no idea what to say because the thing most common in Ren and Irina was that they both had the tact of leaving him rather speechless.
"Right now I'm just interested in making small experiments and trying out new innovations in technology. You're the sort of person who should be providing your expertise to a greater audience."
"Miss Luthor, if there's anything I have done wrong or any act of mine that has displeased you... I apologize."
She smiled, shaking her head a little, "ah not at all. I sincerely think you should be promoted. So this won't be your desk from now on and you'll be sitting with Thomas' department. Second door on the right, at the fourth floor."
He knew there was no point in arguing further so he picked up his stuff and headed out after a polite farewell.
The only possible reason he could think of that could result in such a way, was that someone had snitched on him and told Irina that he had sneaked into her lab once.
But the only person who knew that other than him was Ren.
And he couldn't understand how would Ren know Irina Luthor let alone snitching up on him.
But he wasn't a fan of arguing so he had silently accepted her proposal and gone off to take his place in Thomas' department. Truth be told that department was LexCorp's think tank, a place where all their new ideas were formulated so the promotion he had received was indeed rather sought after.
His speculation was high because there was no way that Lex Luthor would allow a Wayne child inside his think tank. But all thanks to his daughter, he was right in there.
Not that he planned on stealing any ideas. Tim was a fair player and also because he believed that Wayne Tech's ideas were way different so there was no use to look for inspiration in LexCorp's.
At lunch break, his colleagues surrounded him as they came up to his table.
"Woah, man, one week and you're climbing up the ladder already," Mathias, who had the cubicle next to his, remarked.
Tim had no idea that morning's change of guard would make him such a center of attention and as more people started to gather, he got slightly uncomfortable.
"It's crazy but at first we thought she was going to fire you," Dinah spoke up, pulling up a chair to the table as well.
He nodded, "I thought so too. I believed I had screwed up badly and was in for the sack."
"Yet look where you are," Mathias gave him a firm pat on the back as if the two were old buddies, "we'll miss you though, bud. You're fun to be around."
A slight smile threatened to creep over toms face as he replied, "if watching me struggle like a clumsy damsel in distress is fun to you guys, then yeah you'll miss me a lot."
"See, I told you he has the best jokes."
Lunch was rather lively with the whole of Irina's department gathered around Tim. He had never spoken to most of them except for Mathias but realized that they were rather good company. Too bad he had had to move out so soon.
"Trust me I didn't want to leave either," he spoke up.
"Who's talking about leaving?" Kevin remarked, "you're just one floor away, no big deal. We'll still meet up in the cafeteria."
"Who knows? Maybe I'll have to leave."
But once again, an uncomfortable silence gripped the room which made Tim slightly more alert as he took in his surroundings and saw that Irina had joined the group as well.
"And why would that be, Mister Drake?" Her lilting voice reached him, "we could have used your experience."
"You didn't need my experience, based off what I gather."
Gradually but eventually people started to disperse, leaving only Tim and Irina at the table.
"That's why I asked you to be placed where your tricks can be put to use," she leaned back in her chair, marble green eyes staring right through him.
"I still don't understand," he finally put forward the question that had been bothering him, "you know I'm part of the Wayne family, right? And you know I have also worked in Wayne Tech. So why would you place me in a department that provides easy access to all the information you should be keeping safe from rival companies?"
Her meaningful smile widened as she leaned a little, chin resting on interlaced hands, "good question. But first, you'll have to answer mine. Why did you choose to apply in LexCorp when you knew very well that we are a rivaling company to Wayne Tech?"
"Because I don't think that should define where I should and should not work."
"Exactly."
He was quite surprised at her wit to turn the tables over to him immediately.
"I remember I had once seen an interview in which you were asked questions regarding this widely accepted rivalry between LexCorp and Wayne Tech. All your answers were impeccably neutral."
"So...?"
"So in the same way, I believe that an individual's placement in any particular department should not depend on the company he has been or still is associated with."
"Your father might have some problems."
"He won't."
Tim thought that to be rather unlikely but decided not to contradict her directly. "And what if I try to steal your company's secrets, Miss Luthor?"
"Then trust me when I say this; I will slit your throat and sell your organs in the black market."
Tim felt a rather odd familiarity in the tone and the smile which was evident on Irina's face. And that was the time when he was strongly reminded of how uncannily alike it was to the threats Ren gave her on a daily basis.
Irina Luthor could not be Ren.
She simply could not be her.
Having made her point clear, she stood but just as she was about to leave, she remarked, "the turtleneck is not quite your style, Mister Drake. Looks rather out of place."
He was about to fire back a remark about her jacket too but didn't because no matter what she wore, it always looked stunning on her.
However, that night he was still pondering over Irina's words as he was getting ready to go out on patrol. He couldn't understand why she was so familiar to him. And why did she make him think of Ren even though she wasn't the masked vigilante.
Or was she really Ren but not telling him straight out so that he wouldn't get conflicted?
His phone beeped with a message that shook him out of his thoughts. It was from Ren. You do understand that I hadn't taken advantage of you, right?
Tim looked at the screen as if confused, then after a little consideration, he typed: what? When?
Second's later, the screen lit up again: At New Year's Eve.
Realization dawned on his features and his hand instinctively reached up to his neck. So it had been her. Out of all the times I could have been drunk and I chose that one... Such a shame.
You mean you don't remember...? Okay then, good night.
A smile flickered on his face as he typed: Was I a bad kisser?
No, you were actually one of the best I've ever had.
But as soon as the text had arrived, she must have deleted it for it vanished from the screen.
He slipped on the cowl over his face, obscuring his identity. Though he did type out a reply: Next time if you do take advantage of me, make sure I'm at least sober enough to remember it.
The respond was rather immediate as the phone buzzed again in his hand, and his smile widened at seeing the text.
I said I hadn't taken advantage of you, Timothy!
***