'Met this guy called Raysh All Ghoul at a bar today. Didn't die but it sure as hell felt like it, he was that boring.' -12/02/1751
Tim was on the eighth journal now. They were, surprisingly, real page turners.
It was amazing how many times he'd died. And so many different ways.
'Trampled by my horse Bessie.' -16/03/1751 (that hurt like bloody hell).
The handwriting had gotten better with time. The spelling much more accurate. Tim could tell that Mathias was getting older now.
But how old exactly?
Logically speaking, Mathias was 92.
'Assassinated. Rude bastards, not sure what I did.' -18/03/1751
That was a first. No one had ever killed him on purpose.
Why would someone kill him on purpose?
Who would?
'That Raysh bugger came up to me again today. Bastard said that I could be useful, wants me to go somewhere with him. He's given me a few days to decide. As much as of an old creep he is, I might just go. Could use some change of scenery, Britain gets boring after however long.' -25/03/1751
Raysh?
"Raysh All Ghoul." He knew what it was supposed to be the moment the words rolled off his tongue.
Ra's Al Ghul.
Tim turned the page. It was blank. He turned page after page until he reached the back about twenty later. They were all blank. If anything, a little whiter than the others.
Not a single one of the other journals had a blank page.
Because that wasn't suspicious at all.
He placed the leather bound book on his bedside table with a small thud. The journals were heavy, swollen with thick pages and plentiful ink.
What to do? What to do?
Well he couldn't stay cooped up in his room at the Mountain all... Tim glanced over at the clock. All night.
Well shit.
He wasn't even tired. Surely, no one would mind if he went and watched some TV, right?
Pft. Who would be awake at three am anyway?
Jaime apparently. He was sitting completely still on the lounge when Tim entered the room. It was a little concerning to see the boy wide awake with a deadened look on his face while blue light projected onto him.
But Tim was sure he'd been in Jaime's position more than once.
He placed himself on the couch next to Jaime, causing the older boy to jump a little. Jaime smiled at Tim a little.
"Hey." Tim said, returning the smile. Dark shades covered his eyes, but they were completely clear from the inside.
They were like Clark Kent's glasses, except they actually concealed Tim's identity.
"Hey, ese."
The TV was almost silent, maybe on two or three in volume. It was obviously just an excuse to be sitting silently on the couch.
"Uh, everything alright there?" Tim asked, giving Jaime a little nudge.
"Yeah... Yeah."
He still looked kind of dead. His eyes were staring down at the ground. He looked so lost in thought. Like his mind was a million miles away.
Tim understood that. What it felt like to be so consumed in something that everything else becomes irrelevant for a while.
It could be blissful or vile depending on what you're stuck pondering.
Sadly, it seemed impossible to tell from the outside. All Tim could do was talk to Jaime and hope for the best.
"What're you thinking about?" Tim questioned. All he could do was talk and hope for the best.
"You can keep a secret, right ese?" Jaime asked, turning to face Tim.
He seemed a lot more alive now. Like the thought of sharing this secret brightened his day.
"I do all the time." Tim grinned. Honestly, it brightened Tim's day to know he was trusted.
It felt good to be wanted.
Appreciated.
Acknowledged.
To be seen as more than just the third Robin. To be seen as a friend.
It meant the world to him. Especially at such a dark time in his life.
"Okay, you promise not to tell anyone?"
"Stab me if I do." Tim grinned.
"Scarab might." He laughed a little, eyes squinting at the joy. Tim remained silent, staring up at his friend expectantly, "So... I uh... Why is this so hard to say?" He frowned, "Shut up." Jaime looked at Tim before glancing away, "I have a crush on Bart. There! I said it!"
Tim grinned, "Okay."
Oh this was going to be fun. Setting them up, getting Jaime to ask Bart out. Explaining to Bart that's it a date.
This was going to be great.
"Just 'okay'?" Jaime seemed a little crestfallen.
"Don't worry, I'm planning your wedding in my head." Tim grinned, "I'm thinking red and blue flowers. Outside, probably autumn."
"Alright, okay." Jaime chuckled, "Thanks."
"What for?"
"For being here when I needed you."
"I'll always be here."
Will you? Tim thought, Or are you going to disappear like everyone else?
Tim smiled even wider.
"Thanks ese. I should probably try to sleep, eh?"
"Yeah, sleep well Jaime." Tim said and Jaime walked off in the direction Tim came.
Alone again.
But he wasn't particularly sad.
Tim stared at the screen. It was some news broadcaster. Breaking news or something, but it didn't really matter to Tim. He was too busy thinking.
He'd learnt a lot of information for three am.
Jaime was into Bart. Mathias had connections to Ra's Al Ghul.
It was a lot.
His sleep deprived brain didn't know how to handle it properly.
So he just stared at the screen, mind a million miles away, just like Jaime did. Only he knew no one was going to ask how he was.
That was the beauty of three am.
