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Wherever Tim goes, he manages to be followed by two of the loudest, clumsiest shadows in the world. He doesn't even know when it started. If he thinks back far enough he supposes the first time he had seen Bart had been a month ago. Maybe a little longer. It was the middle of winter, Bruce had given him simple instructions.
“Protect the pass between Star and Keystone, easier said than done,” He grumbles, slamming his bo staff into another zombie, not even blinking at the sickening crack and slump of the undead. His winter jacket was patched up with duct tape and sadly wasn't as good at keeping out the cold as it was last year. A few close calls will do that to you. He almost hoped that he could snag a new one from the supply wagon coming through. But he knew better, Bruce and Dick would be heading down south soon anyways. Tim would follow, it would be warmer then.
Once he finishes clearing the zombies out there's nothing to do but wait. So he waits. After about 20 minutes concern starts to creep in. What if the suppliers got ambushed? Maybe he should have pushed harder to be an escort, and not just clear a path. He begins to pace, Bruce would be pissed if he abandoned his post, but it would look bad if the people hes meant to be clearing a path for just died. He looks at the written note from Bruce. It said to meet them here. Tim takes another deep breath, pushing the anxiety to the back of his mind. Dick said that these people were as capable as he and Bruce. Tim knew he could believe Dick, the man was just trustworthy like that.
He decides to take a seat at the raised platform, swiping away the snow to reveal the old wood planks underneath. It's actually pretty quiet. If he closed his eyes he could almost pretend he was just sitting out here to enjoy himself, that there wasn't a whole town relying on a supply cart that might not come. The trees rustle gently, powdery snow falling from the leaves and branches, a worn path in front of him, the only evidence its even there under the snow is the lack of foliage. Tim takes a deep breath, and allows himself to relax just a touch.
This lasts for all of a minute before branches start snapping, the sound of wheels and footsteps growing louder, and with them a shrill yelling. Tim jumps up quickly, raising his staff defensively, adrenaline starting to pump through his body so fast it almost makes him sick. He looks around for where the noise was coming from before he realizes it’s from the path to Keystone. He's running before he can think, his heart pounding in his ears, his breath quickening. He’s never been the most athletic person in the world, despite the apocalypse. Despite the training. Sure, he can fight and he can hold his own against Dick and Bruce in sparring, but he was sure if he had ever gone to a real school, they wouldn’t have let him join the track team.
The same cannot be said for the lanky figure approaching him. They're bolting down the road with a purpose, loud and almost joyous in their demeanor. Tim tries his hardest to move out of the way but it's too late, they crash into him at full speed, sending both people tumbling to the ground in a panting sweaty heap. Tim can barely find himself to be grossed out through the stress of it all. It takes about 5 seconds for him to come back to himself, and he can feel Bruce's disappointed stare from here.
The person on top of him is giggling and Tim finally looks at them. They're a brunette, just about Tim’s size, and when they look at him Tim almost gasps. Their eyes are yellow, giving them an almost inhuman look. When they make eye contact with Tim it awakens something similar to fear in him. But only for a second before he sees the way their nose wrinkles when they snort, laughing too hard from the collision. It is then that Tim finally gets the sense to shut him up. He slaps a hand over the other's mouth, glaring at him. The others hysteria seems to subside as they finally take in Tim, Tim decides to continue to do the same. Their curly brown hair was in their face at this point, the goggles they had probably been wearing to keep the wind out of their face fallen down to their neck, the bandanna tied there for whatever other reason.
“Would you like to attract every zombie in the area?!” Tim hisses incredulously.
The other grins, it would almost be obnoxious if he wasn't so goddamn pretty, “Thought your job was to make sure there wasn't any?”
Tim cant even think of a response before he sees the cart approaching and stopping, an older man hopping off his horse to approach the two still on the ground. Tim pulls himself up quickly, his face growing red. The other follows suit, though without the red features.
The man looks at the kid next to Tim with an air of disappointment and resignation, “I told you not to run off on me,” He sighs, “If I’d’ve needed you and you’d’ve been that far away who knows what could have happened?”
The brunette had already stopped paying attention halfway into the first sentence, but when he senses it's his turn to speak he perks up, “But nothing did happen, ‘sides, I wasn't that far ahead. And I found the checkpoint! So now we can stop, right?” He looks at the older man with puppy dog eyes and he just sighs.
“We can stop,” He turns to Tim, who stands up just a little straighter, making sure to make eye contact, but not too much. He recently learned where that sweet spot is. The stranger doesn't seem to care though, preferring to look at the spot right next to Tim’s nose. Tim masks a frown. “I’m Max, I’m sorry for Bart's behavior.. He's lived a very sheltered life.”
Bart seems to react negatively to the criticism, pulling a face and wrinkling his nose slightly. Tim catalogs this information for later. “My name is Tim. Bruce sent me, he has some other matters to deal with at the moment. I set up camp just a little ways from the road.”
They make a trek to the camping spot for the night, and Tim has to tell Bart to be quiet about three more times before they’re well and truly set up for the night. But when they are Bart seems to calm down, pulling out a device and sitting against a tree. Tim almost wants to join him, but he refrains in favor of taking a patrol while Max prepares dinner. The horse seems to be quiet enough, and though Tim hasnt seen a lot of them he knows that when they’re available they can make a supply run quicker than people pulling it themselves, if you’re willing to risk the amount of noise they bring.
After about two rounds in the woods surrounding the camp, Tim considers the area secure enough to stop for the night, moving back over to the warm fire. Max and Bart are speaking in whispers, and Tim can only catch a few snippets before the conversation trails off. He tries to figure out how to invite himself into their space, how to shake off the awkward feeling. He makes eye contact with Bart, those golden eyes sending a shiver down his spine. They almost glow in the firelight.
“He seems a little inexperienced to be making a supply run,” Tim states, an objective fact, one that is not moved by Bart's whiney ‘Hey!’. Max chuckles good naturedly.
“I always thought it was better to learn by doing, and he’s capable when he wants to be.” The response is fond in a way that makes Tim look at Bart again to try and see it. He wants to know what the older man sees in Bart.
“If we take off tomorrow and he starts screaming I can't promise I’ll stick around to fight off whatever hoard you run into.” A lie, Tim could never betray his nature to help. When Max smiles Tim’s heart aches a little, it reminds him of his dad. He sits down by the fire.
“Y’know, I think the screaming could scare them off. If I was a zombie and saw someone running screaming at me I might feel a little scared,” Bart said, taking the conversation in his own special direction.
“Well, I would argue if I saw dinner running at me screaming I might just kill it faster,” Tim snipes back, earning a soft glare from the other.
“Well you did your job and there wasn’t any, so it doesn't matter.”
“I can’t promise more won’t move into the area when you’re yelling loud enough for coast city to hear you!” That seems to stump Bart for a second.
“What's that..?” Bart tilts his head, Tim almost laughs at the way that he stares at Tim like some sort of dog. He controls himself to just a roll of the eyes instead.
“Nothing,” He cuts the conversation off, before looking at what Max was cooking. It looked like foraged vegetables along with a smaller cut of meat, maybe venison but Tim can't imagine they've been hunting on the trail. He doesn't see a single weapon between the pair.
He looks up at the stars, the clear night sky, and sighs, trying not to listen to the hushed conversation between the two across from him.Surely Bart could go longer without talking. It takes Tim a minute before he gets curious about the pair again, trying to look for whatever Bart was messing with earlier. When he finds it he sees a worn DSi. Electronics are hard to come by nowadays, extremely valuable and able to get you a lot in a market. But here was Bart with one in the middle of nowhere. When Tim goes to touch it Bart snatches it away, Tim just raises his hands in surrender.
“I was curious. You don't see many of those anymore,” Tim states calmly.
Bart wrinkles his nose, looking like he could be deciding what to say next, but Tim wasn't convinced, “It was a gift.” The sentence, as short as it was, only served to make Tim more curious, but he decides not to press the matter. Max was serving dinner anyway.
Dinner was a quiet affair, and when it was over Max tended to the horse and carriage, making sure everything was secure for the night while Tim made a few more rounds. He found one zombie and pounced from the tree, killing it quietly and efficiently. As much as he would love to blame Bart for the undead presence, he knew it was more likely following the scent of travelers past. People who were less stupid, wearing cleaner clothes, not scented with the forest around them.
When Tim made it back to the camp Bart was back to playing on his DSi, in a sleeping bag and looking ready to call it a night. Max offered to take the first watch but Tim refused. he could sleep when he met back up with Bruce and Dick. Besides, these two needed their energy if they were to make it all the way to Keystone by dusk tomorrow. Max seemed reluctant but eventually gave in, going to bed under his own sleeping bag next to Bart, giving the teen a few more minutes before telling him to turn off the device and head to sleep.
Tim kept watch silently throughout the night, and when dawn broke he could feel sleep beginning to tug at his eyelids. They were lucky it was a quiet night for zombies. As the sun rose he began to pack up the camp, and when Max got up he helped Tim quietly, giving him a hefty chunk of bread for his efforts. When he woke up Bart, the teen was upset for all of ten minutes before begging Max to get on the road already. When they said their goodbyes, Bart's sounded worryingly like a see you later. Tim decided not to dwell on it.