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‘Stop showering for just one second, I’m coming in!’
She opens the door as Tim wraps a towel around himself. The room is full of steam. His skin, or what Steph can see of it, is painfully red, though whether that’s from the washing or the heat Steph can’t say.
‘I know what you’re going to say.’ Tim’s eyes look vacant as he speaks, his face expressionless. ‘But this isn’t that.’
‘I wasn’t going to say anything. I just came to check on you, because you’ve been in here for-’ She checks the clock. ‘Jesus Christ, Tim, it’s almost been two hours.’
‘Has it?’ Still, no emotions register.
‘Yeah, it has. Look, Tim, no offence, but this sure seems like that.’
‘Well it isn’t.’ Tim snaps, looking annoyed. Steph supposes she should count any emotion as some sort of victory. ‘It isn’t, so thanks for checking on me and all, but now you can go.’
‘You’re gonna keep showering?!’
‘I’m not clean yet.’ Tim answers quietly, like he didn’t mean to say it outloud. Noticing, he frowns. ‘Steph, that’s not what I meant.’
‘No?’
‘No.’ A beat. ‘Yes, that is what I meant, but just because we were all literally doused in blood. It’s the sensible thing to do.’
‘We were all doused, Timmy.’ Steph says, gently. ‘And the rest of us finished showering an hour ago, tops. I’ve had time to dry my hair, write my report, and eat a sandwich, and you’re still in here.’
‘Well maybe you’re all just gross.’
‘Tim.’
‘Steph! No, I’m serious! Why am I the weird one for actually taking the time to make sure I’m clean?! Maybe it’s all of you who are insanitary!’
‘Tim.’
‘Stop, Steph, stop looking at me like I’m fucking crazy or something!’
‘I’m not-’
‘Yes, you are! You haven’t even stopped for a second to think, ‘maybe Tim’s right! Maybe I should still be washing, too, to protect myself from contamination and-’ His eyes squeeze shut, fists clenching for just a moment before he goes on. ‘I know what you’re thinking and I know what this looks like but this isn’t that! I’d know if it was and it just isn’t! I’m fine!’
‘Okay.’
‘So you can leave now.’
‘Okay. But how much longer are you gonna stay in?’
‘Until I’m clean.’ He says, the unspoken ‘and that’s final’ following.
Steph sighs. ‘Okay.’
-
Outside, only Duke and Cass are still down. Cass is sitting cross-legged in the chair at the batcomputer, but backwards, so she can lean her body forward onto the backrest. Duke is behind her, both of them facing away from the screens, his fingers twisting her hair into braids. He doesn’t look up when Steph enters the main space, but calls softly over to her.
‘How’re things?’
She grimaces, ‘bad.’
‘He’s not coming out?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Did you ask him?’
‘He says he’s fine.’ She puts the emphasis on ‘says’, to show what she thinks of that.
‘Not ready.’ Cass joins in. ‘Give him… time.’
‘How much time until we stage an intervention?’ Duke asks, pulling a hairband off his wrist to finish Cass’s hair.
‘Hmm.’
‘Are we ready to call this what it is?’ He says. Steph bites her lip.
‘It could be something else…’
‘Whatever it is,’ Cass says, ‘he has the same… ugh, word?’
‘Symptoms?’ Duke supplies. Cass snaps her finger and points behind her, in his general direction.
‘Symptoms. Same symptoms.’
A moment passes. Cass hops out of her chair, gesturing for Steph to take her turn being braided, then drags a rolly chair over to sit opposite them.
‘When you are finished,’ she begins, ‘we should do films. And blankets, and…’ she drags the word out as she thinks, ‘snacks and drinks!’
‘For Tim?’ Duke checks.
‘Not just for Tim. Us too. We’re tired.’ She slumps down in the chair for effect, closing her eyes and sticking out her tongue. She very nearly falls asleep there and then, and has to blink forcefully for the next few seconds to wake up again.
‘Right, give me a second-’ Duke quickly finishes off the single braid he’s pulled Steph’s hair into, significantly more rushed than Cass’s two French braids, but she doesn’t mind. They have a task now.
-
Tim comes out of the showers twenty minutes later, feeling- nothing. Which isn’t unusual as much as it is annoying. Or it would be, if he could be bothered to feel annoyance.
He’s been getting worse.
Distantly, his brain tells him to get his shit together before it falls apart, but more close is the voice telling him he’s right to be doing this, right when everyone else is wrong, wrong, wrong. It sort of disgusts him to think about, actually, how little everyone else cares about it all. Especially about their hygiene. How can they be so cavalier? Was he ever like that? Is he supposed to want to be like that?
He doesn’t. Tim literally cannot think of anything worse in this moment than becoming like that.
The cave is empty, so he allows himself a minute to scrunch up as small as he can get, crouched on the floor, careful not to touch it with anything but his feet, just breathing, with his face screwed up and head in his arms. Then he straightens up and heads up to the manor.
-
He’s about to walk up to his room to pass out before Duke, waving, catches his attention.
‘Hey, no pressure, but we were about to start a film, if you wanted to join? Minimal talking, maximum film.’
‘That… sounds good.’
‘And we’ve got prepackaged snacks and everything!’
Tim smiles, weakly. ‘You’re not smooth, Mr. ‘oh Tim we just happened to be about to watch a film if you possibly want to join us?’ What film even is it?’
‘... Star Trek: Into Darkness?’
‘Oh my God.’ Tim says, but he’s grinning. ‘Then what are we waiting for?!’