Water blurred his vision. Stung his nostrils. Filled his lungs.
Thin strands of moonlight seeped into the waves. Slowly, barely showing Tim the way down.
Was the water this deep or was his vision going dark?
God, how long had he been sinking? The stones encasing his feet were heavy. They pulled on his legs. On his joints. He could feel his legs slowly ripping off.
Was he still crying? Tears were streaming down his face before he was thrown in. Were invisible tears running down his face?
The stone skidded to a halt on the sandy bed of the river.
Tim looked up, only seeing darkness. It was gone. Everything was over.
Something brushed up beside him.
A small gasped passed his lips and he shot up.
He looked around. He was laying back on a lounge, a thin, slightly itchy, blanket covering him. Papers and books surrounded him. But it wasn't encasing. The apartment didn't have clutter.
Just a lot of paper.
Right. He went to visit Mathias earlier. Must've fallen asleep.
A small bang came from the kitchen followed by a hushed "Shit."
Tim smiled, removing the blanket from his body and rolling off the lounge. His head hit the ground a little too hard, but it was alright.
Mathias came out of the kitchen, clutching a fancy looking fork in his hand. "Don't tell me you fell off the lounge, kid."
He walked over, offering Tim a hand as he did so. Tim took it, "No, I rolled off. There's a difference."
"If you were asleep, you fell."
Tim stretched out his back, "I was awake." He glanced into the kitchen, "What're you making?"
"My dinner."
Tim grabbed his phone, checking the time. 7:37pm.
"I am so screwed." Tim said.
He opened up his phone. He had thirteen missed calls from Bruce and another five messages.
Then there were Alfred's three calls.
Fucking hell, he was so screwed.
"Yeah. You are." Mathias walked back into the kitchen.
"Wait. Why didn't you wake me up?" Tim followed him.
Whatever Mathias was cooking smelled like it was burning. Nearly four hundred years and he didn't pick up cooking? What a shame.
"Didn't want to. You must have been really tired or something to sleep that soundly."
Tim glanced over at the pot. He was cooking Mac and Cheese. How do you mess up Mac and Cheese that badly?
"Do you know how to cook?"
"Yes." Tim glanced at Mathias, disbelief etched into every part of his face, "Oh shut up. You can't tell me you do."
"I can." Tim replied.
Well sort of.
He could make coffee better than a god's.
"Oh yeah? Prove it." Mathias crossed his arms.
"What are you? Five?"
"I don't even remember being five."
Right. He didn't remember much from his childhood, did he?
"Fair enough." Tim smiled, "So tell me something about yourself."
"You sound like a councillor."
Tim rolled his eyes, falling into a chair jotting out from under a small table, "Come on. I'm curious."
"Shouldn't you be going home?" Mathias asked as he attempted to stir his burning Mac and Cheese, "You do have somewhere to go, right? Cause in case you haven't noticed, I don't exactly have the room to harbour you."
"Mathias, you have next to no furniture. Just dead trees everywhere."
"Dead tr-? Paper, right. I've got to remember things somehow."
"Don't you have, like, ten journals?"
"They're full. I'm too lazy to get another one."
"Of course they are. And I do have a home."
"Then go to it?"
"But you haven't told me anything about yourself!"
Mathias let go of the fork. It stayed upright in the mess he called 'dinner'. "Just grab one of the journals on the way out, okay? They're on the shelf in order."
"Okay, I can see where I'm not wanted." Mock hurt radiated off of Tim.
"Yup. Get out."
Tim's face fell with his shoulders. This guy had no appreciation for good acting.
Whatever. Screw him and his bullshit.
Nah, they were good.
Hmm. Tim should visit the Mountain soon. He hadn't been there in about a week.
Tim's eyes gazed at the shelf. Twenty three journals. That's so many. He grabbed what he assumed to be the first one and headed for the door.
"I'm leaving!"
"Good!" Mathias yelled from the kitchen.
Tim smiled as he closed the door behind him. He ran through the decrepit building, attempting to reach the zetabeam as quickly as possible.
He appeared in the Batcave with a loud announcement. "I am s-"
There was no one in the Batcave.
What the hell?
That's so unheard of.
Why woul-
Oh.
Oh shit.
Bruce was having one of his fucking parties tonight!
Shit, shit, shit! Tim ran through the cave, quickly reaching the top of the stairs and leaving it behind. His phone started to ring in his pocket.
Now was not the time.
He grabbed his phone out of his pocket, fumbling with it before answering, "Yeah?"
"Where the hell have you been Tim? Where are you?"
"I- Shit!" Oh god, who did he run into? Tim looked up, thank fuck, it was just Alfred.
Wait. Where'd the book go?
Tim frantically looked around. There. There it was. Wide open at a random page.
"Master Timothy! Where have you been?" Alfred asked, brushing his suit off and extending his hand to Tim.
Tim quickly grabbed the book and accepted the offered hand. "I was at the Mountain. Must've fallen asleep. Sorry, I'll go get changed!"
Alfred knew Tim was lying.
Of course, Alfred knew everything.
Tim closed his door behind him, pausing now only to catch his breath. Where could he put this journal? Where oh where?
He pulled open his walk in wardrobe, the suit he needed to put on hung carefully from a rung. Tim looked up to a high shelf before putting the journal there and pushing it back.
Then he put on his suit and walked down to the party with a smile.
