"Damn it, don't call me father, you're only eighteen. Who knows if you'll be head over heels in love today, only to be fighting to the death because of that love tomorrow." Joseph shook off Timothy's hand, a pained expression crossing his face.
Precisely because we don't know whether accidents or tomorrow will come first, we should cherish the present even more," Timothy said earnestly. "I love him, I cherish every second I spend with him.
“Is that even love? That's just your vigilante savior complex acting up, adolescent impulse, lust at first sight.” Joseph's tooth ached even more: “If Colt didn't have that special treatment of 'only having eyes for you' and 'you are my whole world,' and didn't have that dazzling face, would you say 'I love you' to an ordinary boy who could easily disappear into a crowd?”
Timothy did not deny it; Colt looked exactly like a lover stepping out of his dreams. The first time he saw Colt, it was as if he had been struck by lightning, a special feeling blossomed in his heart.
“This world has no 'ifs,' only consequences. I am grateful to the god who allowed me to form a connection with Colt, reminding me of our childhood innocence and making me feel even more heartache for everything Colt has endured.” Timothy paused. “When I have the ability to help others, I cannot just stand by and watch; it is a matter of principle. But my feelings for Colt are absolutely not driven by a savior complex. I love him, so I want Colt to have the whole world, rather than seeing me as his entire world.”
Joseph looked at the youth before him, stood up, grabbed a bottle of water, placed it in front of Timothy.
"Thank you." Timothy took a sip of water.
The atmosphere in the lounge relaxed a little.
"You remember things from before? Including how the two of you were always sneaking out in the middle of the night when you were kids to tail Batman and Red Robin?" Joseph asked.
Timothy nodded. "Aside from that incident, I remember everything."
"The incident back then didn't center on you, so it wouldn't be in your memories to begin with." Joseph stood up, grabbed two packs of cookies from the snack rack, checked the production date, tossed one pack to Timothy, opened one for himself.
Since you've already remembered, then you should know that Colt has been a special child since he was small. Alisa and I even took him to see Professor Charles; the Professor said he isn't a Mutant, just that he has a little bit of special ability. With aliens and gods flying in the sky, so many madmen in Gotham, Colt's ability won't harm anyone; he is an angel sent to us by God.
I bet there is no little angel in the world more well-behaved and kind than him, but the malicious Gotham always wants to kill my angel. Ever since he started interacting with outsiders, villains have been flocking to him like moths to a flame. Tutors, school teachers, neighbors, cleaners, mail carriers, even supermarket clerks—he encounters criminals almost every single day. The schools he attends are either set on fire by Firefly, overrun by Ratcatcher's giant rats, held hostage by Black Mask's men, or even targeted by Joker himself.
“He likes your capes; he wants to be someone like you. He said he would change the world, fundamentally solving darkness and chaos, making it so that evil has no soil to grow in and vigilantes can retire in peace. He is still so small, like a fledgling whose feathers haven't fully grown, flailing his unprotected, tender wings to face the deepest darkness.”
“He paid the price, saving so many people, yet he couldn't save the mother he loved most, then he was erased from the world. No one in this world remembers him, no traces of his existence can be found. He is trapped in the crack between two dimensions, unable to go up or down, having lost his memories, yet still using those beautiful eyes to plead with me: Dad, please be a good person for me.”
These words had been accumulating in Joseph's heart for nine years, today he finally vented them.
Joseph covered his face. "Child, it's hard to be a good person in Gotham. You, Bruce, your whole family—how much suffering have you all endured because of your conscience? I don't know how much longer I can hold on.."
It will be alright," Timothy said, hugging Joseph across the coffee table, his voice hoarse, "We'll work together, everything will be alright.
After a long time, Joseph patted Timothy's hand, signaling him to let go.
Timothy went back to his seat and blinked away the moisture at the corners of his eyes.
Joseph took a deep breath. "I should thank you, child. You have added color to Colt's world, making him start to feel full of life again. I think you've already realized that Colt is not whole right now."
Timothy asked, "Incomplete memories?"
Joseph shook his head, stood up, rummaged through the small bookshelf in the lounge. He pulled out a palm-sized board book from the very bottom and handed it to Timothy: "I can't tell you, but you can take a look at this book; perhaps you can find some inspiration within it."
Timothy looked at The Little Mermaid in his hands; it was published eighteen years ago, every page was filled with brightly colored illustrations and very little text. It was a picture book intended for illiterate infants and toddlers.
"Is Colt's voice one of the costs?" Timothy subconsciously thought of the Sea Witch's potion that traded voices for legs.
Joseph did not answer, but instead handed Colt's backpack to him: "Help me take these things upstairs to return them to Colt. I need a little time to think about how to tell Alisa that her son has found a boyfriend."
Timothy smiled with relief. "Thank you for allowing me to be with Colt. Joseph, this means a lot to me."
Joseph shook his head. "Tim, I'm not surprised you two have ended up like this. He has liked you since he was a child, he even insisted on transferring schools because of you. So, help me keep a hold of him, make it so he can't bear to leave."
"What do you mean?" Timothy asked, sensing an ill omen.
He's always worried that I'll become a lunatic like the ones in Arkham, but he's the craziest one of all. He has a plan, he even wrote the script for the grand scheme nine years ago." Joseph pressed down on the book in Timothy's hands. "Stop him, Red Robin. Don't let him turn into bubbles.
Timothy wanted to ask more.
Joseph waved his hand. "Go on, go on, young little bird. Just don't go messing around. I know you little birds all like to learn from the Bat, like separating the body from the heart. So you can only stay in his room for five minutes; if you exceed that time, I'll go in looking for you with a weapon."
The master bedroom on the second floor.
The door wasn't locked, so Timothy opened it.
Colt sat by the window, or rather, he was floating. His body wasn't touching anything; he sat with his legs pulled up and his chin resting on his knees, quietly watching the snow outside the window. His eyes were unfocused; though he was clearly drifting in the dim, yellow light, he seemed as if he were floating in the boundless darkness of space. The sound of footsteps failed to startle him, for the sounds of the real world could not reach his ears.
Timothy ran over and hugged Colt tightly.
Godless eyes began to focus, a light shining within them.
Colt put on the Spiritual Power induction bracelet, the Spacetime Signal Stabilizer pendant, then the hearing aid, finally the Quantum Terminal. Colt felt completely revitalized and unleashed a string of questions: "Are you done talking? Did your father intentionally make things difficult for you? For example, by taking your blood, pulling out your hair, or doing things to collect genetic material?"
Timothy shook his head. "I don't think I'm Superman, your father isn't Luthor, so my genes are perfectly safe."
'Joseph is a native of Gotham and holds a doctorate from Gotham University; that alone is enough to make anyone wary. If you knew what Joseph had once intended to do, you certainly wouldn't dare be this relaxed.'
Colt felt worried about Timothy's vigilance.
"Joseph treated me to water and cookies. We chatted about your past, he even gave me a book." Timothy looked into Colt's eyes, waving the "The Little Mermaid" pop-up book in front of him.
"Why did he give you a fairy tale book? To make you a Merfolk and save me from falling into the sea? Or to hint that I traded my voice for something else?" Colt returned Timothy's phone to him, as it was of no use without the Spacetime Signal Stabilizer.
“I don't know,” Timothy said, putting away his phone, asked casually, “So, what did you trade your voice for?”
It's very obvious, it's not a secret that needs to be hidden." Colt flipped through the yellowed pages. "I traded it for sanity and intelligence, so I haven't gone insane after all these years in the dimensional rift, I can even have Tony praise me as a Paramecium.
Timothy shook his head. "Being called a paramecium isn't exactly a compliment."
To Tony, those who can't keep up with his thinking are just air to him." Colt returned the book to Timothy. "I suspect Dad hid secrets in this book. You found them, so share them with me too.
Coughing sounds came from the hallway.
"Joseph only gave me five minutes; we should say our goodbyes." Timothy put away his book and pushed open the window.
Colt subconsciously grabbed his cloak. "It's snowing outside."
Safer than a hail of bullets." Timothy tapped his ear. "I'll be right across from you, feel free to chat anytime.
Colt slowly released his grip and kissed his chin: "Mhm, goodnight, Tim."
Timothy leaned down and kissed Colt on the forehead. "Goodnight, Colt."
Colt watched the red shadow vanish into the curtain of snow and began packing his things.
This wasn't the first time Timothy had stayed here. Although the villa was so large that it felt overly empty and desolate, the room was still fully equipped with all the necessary daily necessities.
Red Robin was still on medical leave and had no missions tonight. Timothy took a shower, changed into pajamas, sat on the bed reading a fairy tale book. Joseph's words weighed heavily on his mind, he thought of the Joker countdown timer in Colt's study.
With Colt's ability, whether it was throwing bombs into Joker's ward or stuffing cement into Joker's head, it would be effortless. But Colt did nothing. Aside from cooking, his daily routine consisted of the pursuit of knowledge; although he appeared to crave money and wealth, he never sought indulgence, those expensive jewels only brought him fleeting joy.. Colt had no interest in a luxurious lifestyle by worldly standards. No matter how idiotic the school assignments were, he would submit them even if he were far away on Mars. He had so many repetitive behaviors that Stark's suspicion that he was an AI was not without reason.
Joseph said that Colt was incomplete; besides his voice, was there something else missing?
Timothy flipped through The Little Mermaid; the art style of the loose-leaf card book was incredibly beautiful, with only a single sentence on each page.
Page one: A beautiful undersea palace, a cute seashell bed, a Merfolk looking up at the sea surface. Caption: The Merfolk wants to go to the surface to see.
Page 2: The Merfolk surfacing, a magnificent ship. Caption: The Merfolk meets the prince.
Page 3: The waves capsized the ship and sent it sinking to the bottom of the sea, but the Merfolk pushed the Prince up to the surface. Caption: The Merfolk saved the Prince.
Page 4: The Merfolk hides behind a reef, watching the Prince talk to the Princess on the sandy beach. Caption: The Prince thought it was the Princess who saved him.
Page 5: The Sea Witch held musical note bubbles symbolizing sound in her hands, while the Merfolk painfully held an empty potion bottle, her fish tail transforming into two legs. Caption: The Merfolk exchanged her voice for legs.
Page 6: The Merfolk walks toward the bustling castle. Caption: The Merfolk's feet feel as if she is walking on knife edges.
Page 7: The prince and princess are dancing, while the Merfolk hides in a corner. Caption: The Merfolk's heart is like it's being cut by knives.
Page Eight: The Merfolk's sisters come to see her, bringing her a dagger. Caption: Kill the prince, you can go home.
Page 9: The Prince and Princess got married, the Merfolk threw the dagger into the sea. Caption: The Merfolk turned into seafoam.
Page Ten: Sunrise. The gates of heaven appear in the sky, the Merfolk rises from the bubbles. Caption: The Merfolk transforms into a spirit and flies toward heaven.
The entire book had ten pages in total, Timothy flipped through them one by one.
There are many versions of The Little Mermaid's story, the one before him was a beautified version. In some versions, the shipwreck the prince encountered was caused by the Merfolk stirring up giant waves, the Merfolk eventually turned into foam and vanished completely.
Timothy looked at the last two pages, which were the pages where the Merfolk turned into seafoam and transformed into a spirit to fly toward heaven. He wasn't sure if Joseph was implying that Colt's choice was just like the Merfolk's choice.
Kill others, or vanish oneself. Is the so-called heaven that high-dimensional world existing within the dimensional rift where Colt resides?
Knock, knock
Knocking sounds came through the loudspeaker, Timothy looked up as the person he was thinking of walked into the room through the floor-to-ceiling window.
Colt, dressed in pajamas and holding a suitcase in one hand and Cole Duck in the other, stood before Timothy, looking at him with unshakeable confidence: "I need to monitor your sleep status."
"You have the right to just barge in here without any reason." Timothy put down his book, moved further into the bed, patted the pillow beside him, lifted the corner of the quilt.
Colt pushed the suitcase into the corner, placed Cole Duck neatly in the chair, then took off the Quantum Terminal and placed it on the bedside before finally crawling into Timothy's covers.
Timothy turned off the lights, lay down, stretched out his arms.
Colt rolled into his arms, putting a spare Hearing Aid on him so that his hearing wouldn't be affected by the Ghost.
Timothy sniffed Colt's hair; the scent of the shampoo was very fresh, like oranges in the snow.
"You changed your shampoo," Timothy said.
Colt nodded, his soft strands of hair brushing against the tip of Timothy's nose.
“Because I said I like orange juice?” Timothy murmured.
Colt raised his head and kissed his lips, saying nothing, but his sparkling eyes held the answer.
Timothy began to kiss him back with dense, gentle, meticulous strokes, his fingers lightly massaging Colt's scalp.
Colt enjoyed the kiss, caressing the muscles that he envied so much, until the temperature gradually spiraled out of control, he pushed Timothy's shoulders back slightly with unsteady breath.
Timothy pulled him back into his embrace, but only held him with restrained endurance, one hand stroking his head rhythmically as he asked softly, "When did your memories recover? Do you remember how many stories about me you've read?"
It wasn't even one o'clock yet; with 51's fatigue level being able to fully recover in four hours, they could have a heart-to-heart before bed.
Colt considered it for a moment and replied, "It has been gradually recovering since the moment I connected with you. With incomplete memories, it's hard to say exactly how many. There are official comics and animations, spin-off novels and comics, even spin-offs of those spin-offs."
Timothy leaned down and kissed the corner of his eye: "Am I the protagonist?"
Colt looked up and kissed Timothy's chin. "Some are, some aren't. You have your own main publication, but when Batman, Nightwing, Red Hood are the protagonists, your appearance rate isn't very high. You're at the company, at school, with the Teen Titans—basically, you're not in the main storyline. In many spin-off stories, you're always holding a coffee in one hand and a computer in the other, with dark circles under your eyes as thick as a panda's, looking as if you're about to drop dead from exhaustion."
"That wasn't me, I do make sure to get some rest," Timothy denied.
Colt glared at him, "No, your schedule used to be really terrible. With your Dream Station being linked on Sundays, you didn't get a full night's sleep until Thursday. I was waiting so long I was almost in despair, even starting to suspect you were a Mutant whose power was the ability to not sleep."
Timothy defended himself, "It was just too busy during that period. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't stay up late."
Colt rolled his eyes. "You don't stay up late; you stay up until you're exhausted, then you just say, 'That was great.'"
Timothy could no longer make excuses and could only admit, "Fine, I just love the night; the night makes my inspiration explode."
"If I remembered that Drake was Red Robin, I wouldn't have chosen to bind you to the Dream Station." Colt felt a deep resentment toward Timothy's chaotic schedule.
“This is the third time you've said that.” Timothy hugged Colt tightly. “Who do you want to choose to see you, touch you, hug you, kiss you? Dick, Jason, or Bruce?”