Chapter Text
Cass met Tim on a Gotham rooftop — one of the few places that ever felt peaceful when she was there. She’d only been back from Hong Kong a week, and in typical Cass fashion, hadn’t announced her return—she just appeared, like she’d never left.
Tim sat cross-legged on the edge of the roof, a thermos of coffee warming his hands. Cass moved through some stretches a few feet away, each motion so precise it almost stilled the air around her. They’d fallen into this rhythm years ago—his quiet thinking, her quiet moving—two kinds of focus that never collided.
Where others might have filled the silence with words or competition, Tim and Cass never had to. He respected her discipline, the way she could speak whole sentences through a shift of weight or a glance. She respected his patience, the way he listened without trying to fix or fight.
After a while, Cass nudged him lightly with her foot, a silent cue that said your turn.
Tim exhaled, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. “You always know when I need to talk.”
Cass tilted her head, the ghost of a grin crossing her face. “Always.”
Cass settled beside him, knees pulled up, arms resting loosely around them. For a while, they watched the city lights flicker across glass and steel.
Tim broke the quiet first. “So… updates from the home front.” His tone was half dry, half fond. “Things are… better. I’ve been working through stuff with everyone. Bruce and I talked—really talked—for the first time in years it feels like. Dick and Jason, we’re… getting there, definitely making progress. They are still disasters, but functional ones. And Alfred’s—” he paused, a small smile breaking through “—Alfred’s terrifying in new and exciting ways.”
Cass’s eyes softened. “Better?”
“Mostly,” Tim said. “One awkward conversation at a time.”
She nodded, accepting that as enough. Cass never pushed for more than he offered.
Silence settled again, light and easy. Then, with the faintest hint of amusement, Cass asked, “Happy?”
Tim blinked, then nodded slowly. “Yeah. I think so. More than before.”
Cass nodded once, as if she’d already known the answer.
Tim hesitated, then said, “You knew, didn’t you? About me and Conner.”
Cass’s lips twitched. “Your body told me.”
Tim groaned. “Please don’t elaborate.”
“Did not need to,” Cass said simply. “Love moves different.”
Tim stared at her, then broke into a helpless grin. “You’re terrifying.”
Cass shrugged, then smiled faintly. “I’m observant. And honest.”
Tim huffed a laugh. “Bruce, Dick, and Jason are still trying to process that I’m capable of romance without a chaperone.”
Cass’s mouth twitched. “They panic?”
“Like you wouldn’t believe. I think Alfred aged ten years just watching it happen.”
Cass tilted her head. “Should I threaten him too?”
Tim grinned. “You planning to?”
Her smile sharpened. “No need. I am the threat.”
Tim laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah. Poor Conner.”
The laughter faded into quiet again—comfortable, steady, and real.
Cass studied him for a moment longer, her expression unreadable but kind. Then, softly: “Fixed?”
Tim smiled faintly, shaking his head. “Not exactly. Some things aren’t supposed to be fixed. Just… managed better.”
Cass hummed in quiet agreement.
“Steph and I—” He hesitated, exhaling through his nose. “That one’s been rough. She avoided me for a while after I found out she was alive. Our first attempt at talking… didn’t go well.”
Cass tilted her head, prompting without words.
“I called her reckless and irresponsible,” Tim said quietly. “She said I didn’t care and that I never believed in her. Which isn’t true, obviously. But it hurt. For both of us.”
Cass considered that, gaze steady. “You both feel deep. It cuts deep.”
“Yeah.” He smiled a little, sad and tired. “I get why she didn’t tell me right away. But she didn’t tell me at all. I just—found out. And I don’t think she realized how much that broke something.”
Cass said nothing for a long moment, then reached out, a gloved hand resting briefly on his shoulder. “She will see. You will try. That is enough.”
Tim nodded. “I hope so.”
Silence settled again, heavier this time but not suffocating. The city below carried on—sirens, laughter, wind.
After a beat, Tim’s voice was softer. “Then there’s Damian.”
Cass made a small noise of understanding.
“I’m not even sure how to start with him,” Tim admitted. “Part of me still gets angry just thinking about it. Then I remember he’s twelve. A former assassin, sure, but still twelve.” He huffed a small, humorless laugh. “Sometimes it feels ridiculous being mad at a kid. But other times… yeah, it still hurts.”
Cass nodded slowly. “He listens more now.”
“I’ve noticed,” Tim said. “He’s trying. We all are, I guess. I think—” he hesitated, frowning slightly “—I’m learning that I was more upset with the adults than with him. Bruce, Dick, everyone. They let it happen. They let me fall through the cracks. Damian’s actions hurt, but… their silence hurt worse.”
Cass didn’t argue. “You see him clearer now.”
“I’m trying to.”
Cass’s mouth curved in a small, approving smile. “That is growing.”
Tim looked at her then, and for a fleeting moment, the edge of the rooftop felt like solid ground.