Tim's fingers slowly tightened around the note, crumpling the crisp paper, distorting the neatly printed letters. When it was a small ball, he opened his fist and let it drop on the empty bed.
He was gone.
Back to New York.
Leaving him alone.
Dick thought he was self-destructing, that his presence was only making it worse. So, he'd left with a note which really blamed Tim for their situation. Telling him he'd been the one to leave first, in spirit, while Dick left in reality. Telling him if he came to his senses, Dick would be waiting for him.
'Just come find me.'
If Dick couldn't accept him for what he was, what he had always been, then Tim didn't need him.
The black cape wrapped around him like a cocoon as he headed back to the cave and work. Gotham needed him.
That was enough.
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