#miatim

When Mia finished the last stitch, she cut the thread, put on a small dab of ointment, then wrapped the entire cut in wound dressing.

“You’re a lucky man, Tim. You’ll live another day.”

With everything said and done, Mia walked off to wash her hands. Tim simply stayed where he was, sighing in relief as he surveyed his wound.

Around the battered Gothamite was Mia Dearden’s new living accommodations. She called it her ‘Arrowloft,’ but word on the hero street was that it was a safe-house that the screaming bird and the socialist left in Seattle back in the day. The whole place had been repurposed and remodeled to better fit its new resident, with books and knick-knacks placed atop various shelves and an abundance of blankets to make the place more homey. She even draped Christmas lights on the staircase railing for a little extra pizzazz.

Scattered around the room were the remnants of a hero’s patrol — arrows, Mia’s quiver, more arrows, Tim’s cowl and cape, and the various batarangs from the Gothamite’s utility belt. Standing up, Tim picked up the top half of his Red Robin costume and inspected the spot where he had been slashed. Internally he berated himself for not being fast enough to dodge the blade, but then he remembered that one could only move so fast when fighting inside a helicopter.

“Check it, our work’s already going viral,” said Mia’s voice.

Tim glanced over to see the blonde archer walking in from the hall and holding up her phone. On the screen was a news article with the headline — “Archer Girl and Doctor Mid-Nite Drop Helicopter Into Elliott Bay.”

At this point Tim ignored the token misidentification and simply read the article. It was barely morning yet somehow the news of him and Mia stopping a crime was already online. From the civilian’s perspective the pair had seemingly sabotaged a helicopter ride and let the vehicle fall into the bay, conveniently ignoring the fact that the combined efforts of Speedy and Red Robin had prevented a trafficker from leaving US Soil. Even if the in-flight fist-fight damaged the chopper’s systems and caused it to steadily lose altitude, they still managed to nab the perp.

Mia had even used a bola and glue arrow to tie the perp to a streetlamp for the cops to retrieve, like a present they didn’t deserve but still got anyway.

“Personally, I’m mad no one mentioned us climbing up the Great Wheel to get to the chopper,” Mia said, handing Tim her phone. “That was my favorite part.”

“Yeah,” Tim agreed, his eyes still entranced by the article. “Speaking of which, I’m never doing that again.”

Secretly, he was rather grateful that neither the article didn’t mention the terrified shrieking that ensued as ‘Archer Girl’ and ‘Doctor Mid-Nite’ tried to steer the descending helicopter away from civilians. Dropping the aircraft into the bay was the only thing they could do to limit property damage, so technically the citizens of Seattle should be thanking them.

Mia went to her desk in the corner of the living area, where she moved her mouse and watched her PC screen spring to life. Her set-up was certainly nothing approaching Oracle levels of tech, but it seemed to serve her well.

Walking over, Tim watched Mia logged on and immediately went onto Ebay.

“What are you doing?”

“Ordering broadheads. I’m running out.”

He looked on as she clicked a post advertising a 50-pack of high-density plastic broadheads and ordered a quantity of 12. Apparently, the more she bought, the cheaper they were per piece. As she worked she grabbed a half-full bag of seaweed chips (she was rather fond of them) off her desk and offered some to Tim. As he took one, he couldn’t help but notice something on her computer screen that caught his eye.

“Who’s Amelia Thermopolis?” he asked, reading the name off the monitor.

“My alias. You should never use your real name online, Timothy.”

Tim rolled his eyes as he took a bite of the salty snack. Across the room the sound of Tim’s phone buzzed and with haste he stepped over to answer it. He grabbed it off the couch’s arm and read the flurry of messages on the screen.

Mia leaned back in her chair and glanced over to Tim. “What’s up? Daddybats mad that we dropped a chopper in the bay?”

He rolled his eyes as he shook his head. “No, my publicist is just giving some extra notes for this afternoon’s appearance.”

“Publicist?” Mia asked, raising an eyebrow. “Oh right, I forgot you still did that kind of stuff.”

“Yeah, it’s uh… it’s a whole thing,” Tim replied. Rubbing some sleep out of his eyes, he let out a yawn. “I should probably get back to my hotel.”

Living up to her hero name, Mia speedily spun around in her chair to face her friend. “You could crash here if you want. I got a bed and stuff.” Taking no time to wait for an answer, she got onto her feet and went to the hallway that connected the living area and the kitchen. From the closet she pulled out a rather fluffy blanket.

“It’s the least I can do,” she continued. “No one’s ever suplexed a criminal for me before, let alone in a helicopter.”

“Mia, I’d suplex a criminal for you any day,” Tim said without hesitation. “Especially in a helicopter.”

Mia’s ears went pink. She tried to avoid his gaze as walked up to him. “Alright. You can take my bed, I’m good down here.”

Tim shook his head and tried to reach for the blanket. “No, it’s fine. I’d feel bad if I let you sleep on your own couch.”

Mia let out a scoff. “On the couch? What do you take me for, Timmy? A neanderthal?”

She managed to keep Tim’s hands off her blanket as she made her way to her computer chair. She sat down and leaned back, draping the soft material over her body. She seemed surprisingly serene as she reclined and propped her feet up on the desk.