Chapter Text
It took Tim a long time to heal from what the Joker did to him.
…alright, perhaps heal was the wrong word. ‘Fix’ was too generous. ‘Overcome’ was too optimistic. ‘Repress’ was too depressing.
Let’s go with live with. It took Tim a long time to learn to live with what the Joker did to him. He was only a teen, and now he was in his early twenties. That’s a long time isn’t it?
And what did it mean for someone like Tim Drake to learn to live with something? CEO of Drake Industries and major stakeholder of Wayne Enterprises. Vigilante Red Robin and the world’s best detective (yes, he knew he was better than Bruce, and so did Bruce). Last living Drake and member of the Wayne family.
A brother. A son. A hero. A leader. A genius. A mad genius, that is. A madman. A fraud. A replace-
No. No, we're not going there.
But to answer the question, learning to live with it meant making sure it didn’t impact his performance in any of his roles. He threw himself into running his company and working within Wayne Enterprises. He relentlessly solved case after case after case, rounding up bad guys and leaving them tied up like presents for the GCPD to find. He held the Wayne family together by finding Bruce lost in the time stream when everyone else believed him dead. He was there for all of them, even when he was dismissed and rejected. He never gave up on his family.
He never spoke with anyone about what he suffered at the hands of the Joker. There was no point. Everyone had their traumas with that clown. Jason died for goodness sake! His suffering was just another feather in Joker’s cap. Usual. By the by.
So, he buried everything. Shoved it all into a box, put a lock on that box that no one else would ever have a hope of cracking, then hid the box within the darkest corners of his mind, where no one would ever go looking for it.
Forgotten. Gone. Nothing but a bad dream.
…But it wasn’t a dream, was it.
No, it was very much real. And Tim lived with the consequences of it. You’d never know by looking at him. But if anyone could ever see into his mind, Tim would be completely and utterly fucked.
It was a daily battle to keep… him at bay. Keep control over his body, over his mind. Not succumb to these impulses that had been burned into his psyche via torture; both physical and psychological (Harley had been a psychologist, after all, so she knew how to break someone’s mind as well as she knew how to put it back together).
Not only did he have to hide him, but he had to hide the fact he was hiding anything at all.
Yet, this is just what Tim was best at. Hiding. Lying. Keeping up a facade. An image. So good, in fact, no one ever knew what he dealt with.
…Not until he no longer had a choice in the matter.
It was stupid. Tim was stupid. He was reckless and careless and so goddamned stupid.
The bats had all been called in; an all hands on deck situation. Scarecrow had escaped Arkham and was spreading his fear toxin amongst the people of Gotham. So, the bats were going to corner him and send him packing back to the asylum once more.
They had him cornered into a warehouse. Tim took to the roof, sliding through a skylight to the upper levels, able to see straight down to the ground floor beneath him. He watched as Batman strode in, calling out for Crane to face the music, whilst the other bats filed in and spread out throughout the warehouse.
Crane held his hands up in surrender, turning around to face Batman.
They all noticed the switch in his hand too late.
With the press of a button, the warehouse doors slammed shut and gas filled the room. Each bat scrambled to put their rebreathers on, built specifically for dealing with situations just like this. Tim had just gotten a hold of his when he looked down and saw Damian staring wide eyed at his own.
It was broken.
Tim didn’t think before he acted.
He jumped down, rolling to break the impact, and scrambled over to Damian, putting his own rebreather on his brother’s face.
“Red Robin, what are you-”
Tim only gave him a smile and a squeeze of his shoulder. Damian stared at him when he realised, panicking and going to pull the rebreather off.
“No…”
Tim grabbed his wrists, pulling them away from his face firmly.
“It’s okay, Robin. I’ll be okay.”
He would be okay. He had no choice. He had to be okay.
Tim whipped around, bo staff in hand. He had about sixty seconds before the effects of the toxin kicked in, so he was going to make those sixty seconds count.
He went straight in for Scarecrow, swinging fast and low with his staff to knock him off of his feet. As he did, he could feel the toxin begin to course through him, slowly taking effect.
That box he had hidden away in the darkest corners of his mind was sought out by the toxin. Like shining a bright flashlight into the depths, it was all too easily found.
Scarecrow rolled with the impact, moving to push himself up. Tim pursued him, swinging left and right to back Scarecrow into another corner, ideally back into one of the other bats.
The toxin surrounded that box looking for any entry, the smallest gap to slither into and push the box open from the inside. Any crack, any gap in the armor. Tim thought he had made it airtight. He did everything he could to make it unbreakable.
As hoped for, he managed to force Scarecrow to back into Batman, who wasted no time in apprehending and cuffing the villain, before looking back at Tim.
But it found its way in. The box was starting to open.
“Red Robin, where is your rebreather?”
“Robin’s was broken. I made a tough call.”
“We need to get you back-”
“NO! I need to go.”
Because he was coming.
And none of the others would have what it takes to do what needed to be done.
Tim needed to get himself as far away as possible from anyone else so that there wasn’t any chance for him to hurt someone. Hence, he bolted out of that warehouse, snatching his grapple gun from his belt, and swung away into the night before anyone had the chance to stop him.
No one had an explanation for Tim’s desperation to flee the scene.
No one had an explanation for his now disappearance.
No one had an explanation for why no one had heard from him nor seen him in three days.
The tracker that was supposed to be in his suit was not operational, and Oracle’s cameras hadn’t detected him since he fled the warehouse. They knew the general direction he had gone in, but Tim could be anywhere by now.
They kept an eye out for him on patrols. They had searched all of his known safehouses. Sent him messages and tried to call him in the hopes he might respond. All of this to no avail.
Dick was worried for his brother. Damian felt responsible for Tim’s disappearance. Bruce was… being Bruce about the whole situation.
Jason?
Look, he wasn’t that close with the kid. There was definitely still animosity towards him for replacing Jason, stealing the mantle from him whilst Jason was six feet under, but he didn’t want the kid to go die in a hole or anything (not anymore, at least).
(Since when had Jason started thinking of him as kid? Tim is an adult. But replacement just felt wrong now).
“Okay, we gotta think like Tim here for a minute. He’s drugged up on this fear toxin. What is he afraid of?”
The resounding silence in the cave caused Jason to frown.
“Don’t tell me none of you know. Come on, he must’ve mentioned something he is afraid of. Spiders, snakes, heights, abandonment, death, Bruce turning into a vampire; anything!”
Damian hummed in thought.
“Whatever he is afraid of has caused him to flee his family and isolate himself. From that, we can reasonably rule out traditional phobias such as spiders and snakes.”
Dick speaks next.
“Him choosing to isolate himself likely rules out abandonment.”
Bruce follows up.
“He was never afraid of heights as Robin.”
Jason nods.
“Knowing the martyrdom this family upholds, he is probably afraid of something happening to us. But why would he keep himself away from us and not stay near us to, I don’t know, protect us or something?”
A few beats of silence pass, before it clicks in Bruce’s mind.
“He’s afraid he’s going to hurt other people.”
Dick’s eyes widened.
“Shit.”
Jason echos him. Damian, knowing better than to curse, only nods.
“So he must have headed somewhere he knows people wouldn’t be.”
Bruce nods.
“On your patrol routes, pay extra attention to any abandoned buildings, or rural areas that have few residents. And be discreet. If he hears you, he will likely flee.”
Everyone nods, and moves to get themselves ready for patrol.
Jason is finishing up his patrol route in Crime Alley when he notices something slightly off.
Now, on its own, it wouldn’t have been anything to worry about. A manhole cover had been moved, and not put back in its place. Someone likely just forgot to do it, or perhaps someone was still down there doing maintenance. Jason wouldn’t have given it a second thought, if it wasn’t for-
“Hahahahahaha!”
Jason quietly jumps down from the rooftop he had been keeping watch from and crouches next to the manhole to listen out again. It is silent for a few seconds, before he hears it again.
“Hahahahahaha!”
Jason’s blood begins to run cold, green creeping in on the edges of his vision. He taps his comm on.
“Suspicious sounds coming from a manhole. Entering into the sewers to investigate.”
He is deliberately vague in his description, knowing what the others would likely say if he told them he heard that all-too-familiar laugh. That he was imagining things, he was hallucinating and traumatised. He couldn’t be fucked with that. He would make sure for himself before he spoke to them.
Jason silently descends the ladder into the sewer, grabbing his gun and holding it out ready to shoot, and slowly walks forward, listening out again for that laughter.
“Hahahahahaha! Ahahaha! Haha!”
A strained gasp for air follows that set of laughs, which strikes Jason as odd. It’s as if whoever is laughing is trying to stop it from escaping, hold it back. That isn’t Joker’s brand. He laughs loud and proud, letting the whole world hear him.
What is going on here?
Jason keeps moving, rounding a corner sharply, quickly scanning for any threats. He finds none, but sees a light coming from an archway further down the sewers. He creeps slowly towards it.
“Hahahaha! Ahahahahaha!”
The laughter is definitely coming from there. It’s getting louder as Jason approaches. Jason takes a deep breath in, before moving in without a single sound. He crouches behind a crate he finds, scanning over the strange room for the source of the-
“Hahahahahaha!”
His eyes lock on to the figure crouched in the corner, back to Jason, shaking uncontrollably. The person is too small to be Joker. The hair isn’t green either. He stares at the individual for a moment, before he spots the tattered cape pulled around him.
That’s Tim.
Jason whispers to his comm.
“I found Tim. He’s-”
“Hahahahahaha!”
Jason knows the comm picked up Tim’s laughter by Dick’s sharp inhale.
“Red Hood, do not engage. ETA fifteen minutes.”
Batman’s voice crackles in his ear. Jason shakes his head. He has a gut feeling that whatever is wrong with Tim right now, the Bat is only going to make things worse.
“I have to do something! I can’t just-”
Jason hears movement and snaps his mouth shut. He peaks his head over the crate, only to be startled when Tim’s face is right in front of his on the other side of the crate, staring at him with a wide, unnatural grin.
“Hahahahahaha!”
Jason slowly rises from his hiding spot, his hands up to show that he isn’t a threat.
“Tim?”
Something flashes in Tim’s eyes, and for the briefest second, the smile drops and tears fill Tim’s eyes.
“Jason-”
But before he can get another word out, a third voice joins the conversation.
“JJ!”
Almost as if someone flicked a switch in Tim’s brain, the tears evaporate and that manic, stretched grin is back on Tim’s face.
“Papa!”
Joker steps out of the shadows and into the middle of the room, and with a giggle, Tim skips over to him and lets the Joker pull him into his side.
“Oh it's been so long since I’ve seen my little boy! Have you been good, JJ?”
Tim only giggles. Jason trains his gun on Joker.
“What the fuck did you do to him?”
Joker only smiles, letting out a cackle of his own.
“Oh, you want the details? I have to admit, they’re a little fuzzy. It was so many years ago that Harley and I brought this little boy into the world.”
Jason feels bile rising in his throat.
“He’s been missing for three days. Cut the crap.”
Joker looks puzzled for a moment, before a look of realisation dawns on his face. Whatever he has figured out causes him to break out into raucous laughter, doubling over and holding himself. Tim joins in with him,
“Haha! Oh- oh- hahahahaha! That’s just so funny! That truly is the perfect punchline. This joke turned out way funnier than I could even dream of!”
Jason doesn’t say anymore, keeping his gun trained on the clown.
“You’d think Batman would take care of his Robin’s wouldn’t you. I thought he would have tried to take JJ away from me, heal Robin’s mind and make him better after the oh so horrible things we did to the boy.”
Joker puts air quotations around heal and better, putting on an overdramatic pout towards the end of his sentence.
“But I knew my little JJ would find his way back to me. Didn’t you JJ?”
Joker ruffles Tim’s hair, causing Tim to giggle.
“Yes Papa!”
“Clearly he wants to be free from the Bat. Why else would he embrace JJ like this? If he truly didn’t want to be my son, he would have done whatever it took to scrub his mind clean and undo all of our hard work. And even more clearly, Batman doesn’t give a damn!”
Joker breaks down into another bout of laughter. Jason’s hand shakes where he holds his gun.
“You’re telling me you brainwashed him to become a- what, a mini you? Is that it?”
Joker sighs.
“Oh, Red Hood. When you word it like that, it doesn’t sound nearly as funny. But if we are going to be so dull about it, I suppose yes.”
Joker crouches down, putting his hands on Tim’s shoulders.
“Now JJ, make daddy proud and wrap up our little comedy routine, hm?”
Tim giggles again, and starts approaching Jason, who freezes in place. Joker takes the opportunity to slip back into the shadows, his laugh echoing off the walls, blending with Tim’s own laughter to create some kind of choir of demons. It rings in Jason’s ear as clear as the day he died, and he finds himself pinned with the weight of the memories of everything he has suffered because of that clown.
Yet, surprisingly, he finds himself also pinned by the weight of what Tim must have suffered from Joker, and Jason doesn’t even have the full story.
Yes, Jason died. But everyone let him talk about it. He could vent his frustrations. No one batted an eye when he joked about it anymore. Hell, Bruce had even offered him therapy for it.
But did Tim tell anyone about this? Did anyone even know Tim had suffered like this?
Tim has stepped right in front of Jason now, and Jason sees the glint of the knife in Tim’s hand too late. He cries out as Tim slashes his arm, causing him to drop his gun.
“Tim! Stop!”
Tim only laughs harder, swinging his knife as Jason backs away, following him step for step.
“Snap out of it! I don’t want to have to hurt you!”
There’s no getting through to him, Tim’s eyes entirely glazed over and haunted with green in a way that is so similar to how Jason’s eyes are.
Except one pair is green due to the Lazarus Pit. And one pair is green due to the diabolical ministrations of a mad clown.
Jason stumbles back and falls to the floor, and Tim steps forward, standing in front of him with that same, sickening grin. He lifts the knife up, laughing as he does, and Jason sees he has no other choice.
He lunges forward, locking his arms around Tim’s knees and pushing him to the ground, pinning him down. He wrenches the knife out of Tim’s hand and throws it away, before scrambling in his belt for the syringe with the antidote Tim so desperately needs. All the while, Tim squirms in Jason’s hold, giggling and smiling.
Jason eventually finds the needle, and wastes no time in plunging it into Tim’s leg and injecting him.
Jason fights to keep Tim down whilst the antidote does its job. Slowly, far too slowly, Tim’s laughter settles down into softer, quieter giggles and hums. He eventually stops wriggling around, his body going limp. He looks up at Jason, blinking once, twice…
…before he is out like a light.
Jason scoops him up in his arms, watching him sleep for a moment, just to convince himself that Tim is still alive and breathing.
“Red Hood, report.”
Jason takes a shaky breath before speaking.
“I’ve got him. I… I’ve got him.”