Don't Fear the Reaper

20) Just dead People Stuff

Tim knocked on Nico's door, waiting to hear two knocks before going in.

"Hey, Jason wanted to know if you could-" Tim cut himself off when his eyes caught on what Nico was doing. "You're putting stuff in the closet."

Nico didn't even glance at him before stomping twice as he took out the last items from his backpack, though Tim noticed how his shoulders tightened.

"I'm glad," Tim quickly said, not wanting Nico to think that he thought it was weird. "Living out of a backpack is kinda pointless while you're here."

Nico shrugged. "After Grayson had clothes delivered for me, I knew I would have to," he said simply, his voice flat.

Tim nodded awkwardly, fully forgetting why he came to seen Nico to begin with. His eyes just absently scanned the room until he saw a book sitting on the teen's desk. That would usually be a pretty normal thing, considering it was a desk and a lot of people read a desks, but Nico was nearly illiterate when it came to English, and they didn't have many books in other languages. "You reading anything good?"

Nico stilled his moments before looking to the leather-bound book that sat on the top right corner of the desk. He seemed to hesitate for a long moment before crossing the room and picking it up gently, as if it was something precious. "No. It's... it is not a book."

"Oh," Tim said lamely. His interest was peaked, but he didn't want to over step.

Nico just stared at the book for a while and Tim considered just leaving since it was obviously something personal to him, but then the kid unbound the letter cord that held it shut and opened to a marked page. Nico's lips drew into a fine line, as if he was suppressing both a fond smile and a sad frown all at once, before he hesitantly nodded for Tim to come closer.

Tim crossed to him, making sure to leave more than enough room between the two, but still close enough that he could see what the page held. The young detective didn't quite know what he was expecting to see, but his eyes widened the second that looked at the page.

It was a very old black and white photo of a young boy, probably around 6, and a girl who looked a couple of years older. The duo looked like siblings, but that wasn't what immediately intrigued Tim. The photo, the background, even the clothes they were wearing... they looked old— and not just 'oh this is a worn picture' or 'we liked to dress up in 70s cloths' type old. It looked like it was from the 1920s or 30s.

"Who are they?" Tim asked hesitantly.

Nico was quiet for a long moment before he said, "My sister and I."

"Oh," Tim muttered. "When... when was it taken?"

Nico sniffed slightly, his eyes still locked on the photo. "I can't remember, though I suspect the early 1930s," he said, his voice almost wistful. "When I was 10 and she was 12, we were put somewhere where time stopped moving. We thought it had been a few months, but... the century passed us by."

Tim was struck silent. He could not think of a single thing to say because what the hell do you say when you find out the 16 year old assassin living in your house is actually like 90?

"So you're 16... but..."

Nico nodded. "But I have been alive since the 20s."

"That's why you don't have a birthday," Tim muttered, that piece of Nico's life now kind of making more sense... or at least as much sense as 'I got stuck in time since before the Second World War and can't remember much ' can.

"I don't remember much from back then, but I know we escaped Nazi occupied Venice. I think my mother destroyed our documents after getting out," Nico said, his eyes looking distant. "She died shortly after, same with my sister."