trans_9 | I fought the law (and the law won)

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I fought the law (and the law won)

There's not a whole lot to do, when you're marking time in a jail cell. Tim has paced every inch of it, calculated the estimated area of his new living space (small), and counted the ceiling tiles (42 and 1/4).

He hasn't tried to escape, though he thinks he might be able to, if he really tried. But he won't.

Right now, he's lying on his cot, staring at the ceiling, and hoping that no one comes to visit him. He's not sure he can face their disappointment.

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When Kon arrives he's wearing giant, oversized sunglasses, and a little kerchief on his head and a giant oversized scarf.

He plops down in the chair across from Tim's cell and says, "They confiscated the cake with the file in it. Sorry."

Tim sits up, smiling just a little when he sees how ridiculous Kon looks. "Maybe next time you can smuggle it in your scarf."

He did it for the smile, pretty much. He knows his best bud and his best bud feels like crap already. He doesn't even have to talk to him to know that--it's Tim.

"Not with the pat-down they gave me. Now I know it's hard for people to keep their hands off me, but I'm really starting to wonder about that Leon guy now..." he says, looking over his shoulder, back towards where the others are waiting.

And they are waiting there, watching his every move to make sure he doesn't try to spring Tim.

But he won't.

Taking off the joke getup, he says, "Now for serious time, though, okay?"

Srs Kon is srs.

"Must be hard, looking that good," Tim says, raising an eyebrow at Kon's getup.

Then he takes it off, and Tim blows out a sigh. He'd known it was coming, and this is one of the conversations he'd wanted to have the least.

Next to Dick and Bruce, of course, but--honestly, he's not sure which is going to be the worst. "Serious time," he agrees.

He has one simple question.

"What the hell was that, Tim?"

Tim frowns at the floor. "A mistake," he says finally.

Here he'd been all geared up to lecture, and he deflates.

"I'm the one that's supposed to make those! Stop stealing my gig!"

Tim glances up at him with a thin smile that doesn't quite meet his eyes. "Sorry. I'll try to do better next time. Wouldn't want to step on any toes."

Kon just pushes a hand through his hair. It's starting to get long enough to have the hair swoopy.

"Why'd you do that? You're always the one that--"

He's the noble one. Kon might wear the S, but it's Tim who's the noble one, at least in Kon's eyes. He's the one they always looked to when they weren't sure what was right or wrong. He's the one that talked down Secret just as Tim Drake.

"If you were that twisted up over it--"

He's frustrated.

"We went over this. I was hoping if you needed help that you knew--"

That he was there. Just like he was there when Tim needed to talk about Steph. About his dad.

Rather than doing something stupid, that he'd regret, that'd make him into something he didn't want to be, Kon had hoped he'd say something. 'I'm so messed up I want to kill somebody. Help.' Something.

Tim winces a little. He knows what Kon's not saying. He'd be saying--or not saying--the same things, if their positions were reversed.

"I knew, Kon. I just--" he shakes his head. He hadn't known how to ask. Not even after their talks about this thing. He hadn't known how to say 'I'm so twisted up inside about this that I want to kill somebody, and I don't know what to do to make that go away, because talking isn't helping.'

"I knew."

Kon just frowns.

"I'm not going to beat you up over it. You're a guilt machine, so I know you're already beating yourself up over it. Besides, I found out Bats is here now, so either he already covered that, or he'll have it covered."

He pauses, thinking.

"I don't want to think that what that creep Jason said, about the future, is true. About you dying, wearing the batsuit, like--"

Like in that future. His hands folded, he stares at the floor, brow furrowed in worry.

"I don't want to think any of that's true, but we know the whole Bat-Tim thing's a possibility." Breathing in deep, and looks up at a Tim, with hopeful blue eyes. "But just like I know you'd never let me turn into--into what I was, I'm not going to let you do the same. I promise. Now I have yet another reason to try not to take a dirt nap--keeping you out of trouble."

His expression squinches thoughtfully, and he smirks slightly, thinking of the future irritation that lies ahead. "Of course this means I'm going to bother you constantly and look over your shoulder every five minutes until I'm sure you're okay, but if that's what I gotta do, it's what I gotta do."

Tim gives him a tiny smile. "Lucky me. Does 'every five minutes' include when I'm in the shower? Because that might get a little awkward."

He's taking a page from Kon's book--trying a little levity in what is definitely a serious situation. But then he sobers again, and looks back at Kon seriously.

"You're right--I won't let you be what you were in that future. I promise. And--thanks. For not giving up on me. Looks like you're going to have to stick around because--" he gestures around him. "Clearly, I need help staying out of trouble."

"I'm not gonna watch you in the shower." Eyeroll. "Too much like those creepy fanfictions that were on those creepy little websites back when we were in Young Justice. What did they call our pairing? You had the Mister Sarcastic getup then, so you and Secret were 'Sarcas-Mist,' me and Cassie were 'Clashing Titans' and you and I were...wasn't it 'Super Sarcasmic' or something?"

Kon snorts.

"But yeah, that's what best buds are for, right? Keeping each other out of trouble, or--in some cases--winding up in the same cell after you both screw up reaallly badly."

Superboy's look turns super sober. "But for that to happen, you have to stop going it alone. I know how hard that is--I mean, look at how I ran off to Smallville. But if you promise not to do it, I promise not to. Do we have a deal?"

Edited 2009-09-24 08:53 (UTC)

"Ugh, don't remind me," Tim says, making a face. "I try no tot remember that any more than is necessary. Which is never.

"But--deal." Tim nods, standing and crossing to the door. This definitely calls for a fist-bump. "No more going it alone."

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I fought the law (and the law won)

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