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It's nearly time to go home and Neal is making his way through his fifth cup of coffee of the evening as he finishes the final file of mortgage fraud for the day.
After another grueling ten minutes, he finally types in the last word and slumps in his chair. “Done!” He chugs the last of his coffee and then thunks his head onto his desk, closing his eyes that haven’t been fully working since the eighty-fourth hour he’s been awake.
A fist knocks the desk right next to his ear and he groans.
“Neal,” Peter says. “I can’t drive you home tonight. El and I are going to dinner.”
Neal lifts his head slightly and waggles his eyebrows. “Date night with the missus, huh?”
“Thank God. I think I’d be in the doghouse if I didn’t actually have a date night after my nonstop late nights.”
“Well, I’m happy there’s no doghouse for you,” Neal says with a grin.
“Yeah. We’re trying out that Korean barbecue place by the theatre.”
Neal cocks an eyebrow. “You’ve gotta be more specific. We live in New York. There’s lots of theatres.”
“Movie theatre,” Peter corrects.
“Ah. That one. I’d love to try it if it were not four miles outside of my radius.”
Peter snorts. “Yeah, I’m not taking you.”
Neal sighs. “Didn’t hurt to try. Who knows. Maybe I'll find a loophole.”
"I don't doubt you'll try," Peter says. He shakes his head. “Well, it looks like you’re done with the day, and it is,” he checks his watch, “five o’clock sharp, so you are free to go and I am going to have a delicious dinner with a beautiful woman.” The elevator dings. “Oh!” Peter says, face brightening. “And there she is now.”
Neal looks over and feels his whole body go tense.
She’s older, much older than the last time he saw her. Her hair’s the wrong color and her cheeks are rounder than they ever were when she was running around in her purple kevlar, but it’s her. Those bright blue eyes and that soft smile? It’s unmistakably her.
She meets his gaze and she too freezes. Her face drops. She looks… scared. Guilty.
Tim shoots up from his chair. “Tell me that this isn’t a sleep deprivation hallucination. Because… even if you tell me this isn’t, I’m not sure I’ll believe you.”
Steph, stumbling over to him with speechless shock, chuckles in disbelief. “Then I guess you’re not gonna believe me.”
“No, really. I haven’t slept in over three days. I’m pretty sure I’m more caffeine than I am human plasma.”
Steph grabs his hand and his breath hitches.
“You’re a brunette.”
She chuckles again. “Tim, I really feel like there are more pertinent things than—”
“You always said you were battling toxic societal images enforced by a male dominated media by being a strong, independent blonde woman—”
“Tim—”
“—and that you’d never go brunette because that would be conforming to an anti-blonde construct—”
“Tim!”
He stills, eyes far too emotive, betraying his mask of neutrality.
“You can say it,” she says. “I know you want to.”
Tim smiles a wobbly, teary smile. “You’re alive.”
She nods. “Yeah. I am.”
He takes a small, hesitant step forward. Unable to stand the tension any longer, she wraps her arms around his neck and buries her face in his neck. Tim wraps around her waist and pulls her closer, just taking in the feeling of her in his arms.
“You have no idea how nice it is to see you,” she mumbles.
He kisses her temple. “Believe me, I know.”
There is a loud throat clearing beside them.
They pull away quickly, Steph looking like she’s been burnt. She looks over at Peter with wide eyes. “Peter—”
“You two know each other,” Peter says flatly.
They both share a glance and wince.
“You… could say that,” Steph says slowly.
“How exactly?” Peter asks.
“Uh,” Tim says slowly. “We dated in high school.”
If Peter clenches his jaw any harder, he may crack teeth.
Steph raises a brow at Tim. “I feel like you’re really diminishing the complexity of how we know each other—”
“Well what am I supposed to say?” Tim questions. He lowers his voice. “We can’t talk about downstairs business and it’s not like I can just say that I was the father to your unborn child—” He freezes. “Peter. I am going to say this slowly and clearly.” Tim looks over at Peter whose face is bright red. “I did not impregnate your wife when I was a teenager. Did you hear me say that? I will repeat. I was not the biological father to your wife’s teenage pregnancy. I merely was the one who supported her during said pregnancy and—” he turns to Steph. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry if you didn’t tell him about this before and I outed that tidbit about your past without your permission because if so I am very sorry—”
“He knew,” Steph interrupts.
Tim lets out a breath of relief. “Okay. Cool. Great.”
“So,” Peter says, voice terse. “You two dated in high school.”
“And I… worked for his dad in… their family business.”
“Should I assume it’s the same business Neal is in now?” Peter asks.
She can’t help the snort that escapes. “Uh, no. Definitely not.” Quickly, she sobers. “Peter, look, what we had was… a long time ago. We just… haven’t seen each other in a long time.”
“It sounded like he didn’t even know you were alive,” Peter says.
“Because… he didn’t.” Steph looks away, brows scrunched. “You know my past is… complicated. And what we had, what we were involved in, it was even more complicated. I found an out and I took it and… I got to start over and have something… not complicated.”
“Does Oracle know that you’re alive?” Tim asks.
Steph looks over, guilt evident in her features. “Yes.”
Tim scoffs with hurt disbelief.
“Tim. I know you would’ve wanted to know I was alive—”
“Would have wanted? I would have wanted to know you were alive? Steph, you were dead. And soon after, Bart and Kon died. And then Bruce was presumed dead. And I know you know that Dick would take over after Bruce died so that happened and then I lost the red and yellow, no, Dick gave the red and yellow away, I… I was a wreck. I joined the fucking LOA. And I’m… I’m not blaming you. Don’t think for a second I’m blaming you. But I… I’ve missed you. I… did you think that I wouldn’t? That I would just move on after you died? Because I didn’t. I mean, God, every time see that eggplant purple I think of you. I never forgot about you.”
She stares at him with glistening eyes. “I never forgot about you either.” She glances at Peter. “Not in that way, Peter. I promise.”
“Do you think B knows?” Tim asks.
“I don’t know,” Steph admits. “That man is a paranoid son of a bitch, but even he can’t crack Oracle.”
Tim laughs softly. “Yeah. You’re right.” He just looks at her, soaking in her presence after he was long resigned to the loss. “God, I’ve missed you.”
Steph squeezes his hand again.
“So,” Peter says breaking their stares. “I’m guessing Neal,” he pauses. “Tim? Is joining us for Korean barbecue.”
“Oh heck yes,” Tim says, pumping his fist in celebration. “Loopholes.”
“I wouldn’t say your dead exgirlfriend who is my wife coming back to life is a loophole I could have accounted for,” Peter says. “God… that is… weird. That whole image. It’s in my brain now. I hate it.”
“I can tell you a lot of embarrassing stories about teen him,” Steph says, pointing a thumb at Tim. “I’ve got so many.”
Peter loosens up ever so slightly. “Maybe there is something good from this situation.”
Tim narrows his eyes at Steph. “I swear, if you bring up the soup disaster—”
“Oh, of course I’m gonna bring up the soup disaster—”
“Steph!”
To their surprise, Peter laughs.
“Peter,” Steph says softly. “Are you going to be okay with this?”
“I will be,” Peter says. “I’ll learn to be. For you. Clearly you two mean a lot to each other and… have a lot of catching up to do.”
Steph smiles and presses a kiss to his lips.
Tim shudders. “Oh, gross. That is… yeah, I can see what you meant. I need brain bleach.” He looks at Steph. “You and Peter?”
“Are you just realizing that now, Boy Wonder, World’s Second Best Detective?”
“In my defense, I was more focused on your aliveness.” He looks between her and Peter again and gags. “Yeah, that’s gonna be in my intrusive thoughts for days. Maybe even the rest of my life.”
Steph slugs him in the arm. “Idiot.” She nudges his shoulder with her own. “Let’s get some grub and catch each other up, huh?” She turns to Peter. “And I promise, honey, you’re not going to be a third wheel.”
“Gross!” Tim repeats.
Steph shoves her palm into his face. “You’re gross!”
Peter takes a deep breath. “This is gonna be interesting, huh?”
“Oh,” Steph grins mischievously, “you have no idea.”