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Inconsistencies

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Tim sat on the rooftop, his thermos by his feet and the sandwich he'd made wrapped in paper-towel on his lap. He carefully tuned the police scanner he'd found at the dump, he'd spent over a month fixing it.

He was waiting for a glimpse, for a hint, of black and yellow and red and green. For a while days, months, felt like years he hadn't seen the more colorful range, but he supposed he'd maybe gotten injured. A day without seeing Bruce and Dick was like going a day without breathing, especially when he went without explanations.

The times Batman and Robin were reported doing something with the JLA, Tim felt an incurable itch roam up and down his arms, like his muscles were screaming under his skin to run, go, find them!

There! Red and green, followed by the imposing beautiful black.

But no, that wasn't Dick. The boy was easily a foot shorter, stockier than Dick was, even at that age.

Tim felt betrayed.

Through it all, his mom dying, his father getting remarried, his dad and Dana leaving all the time...The only constant he had was Batman and Robin.

But now? Not even that.