The shadow doesn't hurt him, no. Not any more than Tim's capable of hurting himself, which, as it turns out, is a hell of a lot. Tim glances up at the thing, sniffing softly as he rubs his nose on his sleeve, leaving a disgusting trail of shiny snot.

"...thanks," he whispers.

The shadow shrugs.

"Give it time, he says."

Tim looks at the vision of himself steadily, but makes no motion to get to his feet just yet. Instead, he draws his knees up to his chest and settles his chin atop them, arms curling around to hug them tighter to himself. Just like he used to.

"I don't think I have time," he says.

"You don't."

Tim closes his eyes.

"Okay."