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Drake didn't know who he was fooling. He didn't know how he was fooling Batman himself into taking him in, even in his compromised state. He was batman, he shouldn't be fooled by a child. No matter what.
But, well, he seemed to be doing a good job. He was a little spacey during patrol, but, well he was always a little spacey, wasn't he? Spacey enough to refer to himself as different names in his head, but that wasn't anything that he himself needed to mention. Even if he had to use his last name because anything close to personal for him sometimes felt too personal for his muddled mind.
He was managing, though! He always seemed to snap back into reality by the time someone needed him, always managed to put on the right voice for the job in seconds. He was really proud of himself. Drake, his new job as Robin, and his newfound love for detective work. Obsession, at times. At times, it went away at random moments but he was allowed to have wandering interests!
Putting on the robin costume was like slipping on an entire new identity, voice becoming steady and mind becoming sharp. Taking it off felt like shucking off heavy skin and feeling accomplished but shaky.
He didn't realize it was such a big deal, though, not until Dick had commented on it.
He was still peeling off the bits of weighted Robin in his mind when it happened, Dick throwing emself along his shoulders. He ignored the internal shudder at the contact, and instead looked over in question.
"You know, Tim, I never managed to get half as comfortable with the alter ego as you have in half the time! Batman must really know how to pick from the crop these days, huh?" Ey said, poking at Tim's side teasingly.
"…What do you.. mean?" Tim said slowly, like he wasn't sure what Dick was trying to get at. For some reason, it felt like ey were onto him for something. It felt like something he needed to draw attention away from.
"That's it! See, you have an entire different voice now. Where'd the grump from two seconds ago go? Underneath all that neon, you still manage to have grump. Really." Ey was drawing them away from the batcave, Tim knew. Even though he knew that Batman liked to discuss patrol afterwards.
"I am still the same person, you know. I'm just not being Robin right now." Tim argued. He let em do this, if only because he couldn't see Bruce around to be mad at them right at that moment.
"The point is that you're maybe a month into this job, kid! If you take to this job too much, I might have to steal you away for ice cream during patrol a few times. Grab you some stuffed animals, make sure you still have time to be a kid." Dick sighed, and just like that they were heading back up towards the manor. Tim was glad they were both out of costume, he didn't want anger Alfred today.
"Those wouldn't work as bribes or encouragement of any kind for me. Get me a skateboard and take me to a park instead." Tim bargained, even as a part of him mourned the lack of those offers. He for some reason knew he couldn't take them. For some intangible reason, those offers were dangerous.
"Done, and done. I'll absolutely support you going all teenage-rebellion, too. I'll get you normal lobe piercings, too, just make sure that if you want anything beyond that you wait until you're of legal age!"
"I guess.. I guess I'll keep that in mind." Tim wasn't caught off guard by the offer. His response was completely normal, he swore it. He didn't bump eir's shoulder in positive affirmation. His relationship with the Waynes was going to stay completely normal.
JJ only vaguely knew what he was doing. Yes, sure, he knew that being with Papa and Mama was arguably the worst thing that had happened in his very very measly life, but this weird house was… weird. Not funny haha, funny weird. Not that the distinction mattered much to him!
Just that the distinction mattered to the people around JJ. They looked at them as if they had an illness, a worried look that made laughter want to bubble out just as much as a weird pressure around their eyes.
On top of that, it kept getting called the name-that-was-not-it. It knew, logically, that this was a name that it was meant to be called. But also, it was getting harder to actually respond to this name the longer it didn't have a reminder that it was meant to. And this guy.. this guy was the guy Papa decided was worth his time. It knew that it was running on borrowed time with all of this.
Maybe more than borrowed, though? Because Wayne had heard one of his laughing fits and "benched" him. Until he was able to keep it all in, probably. Which wasn't going to happen, Papa never liked when someone was silent, but he could wait it out! He knew he wouldn't be here for long. He just… couldn't go back.
They couldn't go back! That thought played on repeat every single time they looked Batman- Bruce- in the eye. It was bad. Bad- bad, bad, bad because they couldn't laugh about it. This lasted a week, a long, long week without any feedback or support from their head before they needed to let it all out.
It was the first time Wayne wasn't at the dinner table since Tim- JJ- came back, the first time Nightwing- Big Blue wasn't around, either. Alfred look at it with a certain worry in his eyes, and JJ.. couldn't deal with it anymore. All the laughter that it had been managing to hold back unless something really serious was happening came out.
It was almost a blackout, funny enough- yeah. Yeah, funny enough it felt like a blackout. He hadn't felt a blackout since sometime around the start of when Papa was teaching him how to be. It was almost relieving.
When the laughter trailed into giggles, and they slowly came back down to their own body, they looked around for a second. Never good, never good to lose track of where you are. Good laughs needed good audiences-
Oh, Alfred. He looked worried, and when JJ looked over at him he slowly placed his hand on its shoulder. He looked as worried as it had ever seen him. "Master Drake, are you sure that you'd prefer to eat here? I could bring all this up to the blue drawing room, if you'd like. You could put on a movie you'd like."
JJ felt his giggles spike at the implication he had a movie he liked. Horror comedies, maybe, but Alfred wouldn't want to hear him watch a horror comedy. He swallowed down as many giggles as he could, "Nah- I'm, I'm good, Mr. Fifi. I got this."
Alfred's eyebrows twitched up, and then settled. "Very well, Young Master."
That settled JJ, and they went back to eating. While they only hummed for the rest of dinner, they couldn't pretend to not feel how Alfred's eyes were on the back of their head. They resolutely ignored it, content that at some point the suggestions for how to deal with this would be back and they could listen to those.
There was yelling. There was yelling and there hadn't been yelling around Drake in a decent time like this. They stared up at the two people in front of them- It was Bruce and Richie. Okay. They were yelling at each other. But they'd be okay, right?
"You can't be treating Tim like this! He's running himself ragged doing this and you're- you're just mourning one kid and letting out any damn villain you can stick your dick into! Or, I guess, if they look enough like a sleazebag you find yourself in them."
"I've been wanting what is best for the city, Dick. I've been trying to put those villains away the best I can-"
"And you're ignoring my entire fucking point! There! Right fucking there! That's what I meant, that is exactly what I meant. You're arguing on the point of the damn city instead of talking about how you're mistreating another kid!"
Drake curled further into the seat by the bat computer, staring up at the screens swimming in text that hurt his head. Why were they yelling? Could they stop?
"Tim forced his way into Robin, Dick. He signed up to be my partner to focus on the crime in the city and if I had a choice-"
"If you had a choice you'd leave me to mourn my parents on my own! Leave him to mourn his father and his mother on his own, and only ever fucking pay attention to him to bench him because you can't deal with his emotions."
Timmy glanced around, trying to find something to fidget with. Hands over their ears weren't working, and they were being really mean to each other. They patted something they thought was a cup?- and then it tilted, and then it was falling.
Something new entered Bruce's voice, something Timmy didn't know how to recognize at all. It sounded something close to upset. "He is working without-"
And then the cup shattered. Timmy held their breath as if that could make either of the two ignore them. Their heart beat against their ribs as every step they heard felt like a nail against a coffin.
"Tim?" A voice asked, they didn't care to differentiate to which one called their name.
Just as they heard the steps get too close for comfort, they got out of their chair like a shot and ran towards what they knew was the exit. Maybe they should've said something, but they knew they weren't really allowed to talk right then.
And suddenly someone had grabbed onto their sleeve, and they were pulled to a stop. Timmy stared up at Richie with as much let me leave as they could.
"Hey, Tim, I'm-" Richie stopped talking, and a look overcame eir face that Timmy had seen too many times. Something between shock and disgust. It was always disgust.
Timmy kept staring. They were both at a standstill.
Bruce got close, not speaking yet as if he too could tell something was off.
Timmy tugged their arm out of Richie's grip, and it was as if ey was too in shock to stop them.
They took a few steps back, glancing between the both of them as if either of them were going to be mad. Then, they took a few steps back, and a few steps more.
Bruce opened his mouth just as they were about to turn around, "Tim, you weren't meant to hear that-"
Timmy turned tail and ran the moment Richie glared at Bruce. That would start an entirely new fight, if they knew either of them at all.
It was another night at the bat computer for Drake, this time with enough cases to drown in. Things were still.. technically slow on the actual patrol, nothing important came up when the bats were in the streets. But it was the subterfuge and shadows that were still alive with activity. Thriving in spaces that the bats couldn't reach, even with how often they toured the streets.
"That's not Penguin's MO," Alvin pointed out under his breath, zooming in on a small detail on the photo. The body hadn't been removed, and it-
"Can't be joker's work either, this is too quiet." Teigan zoomed out for a moment, just to get back to the big picture. Then, she spotted something- "Hey, wait look at that-"
"-What's that symbol?" Alvin zoomed in on the wall of the image. He hadn't seen it earlier, it seemed too close to an anarchy symbol and he had looked over it. But no, no that symbol was different. Something closer to-
The only warning either of them got was the small scuff of a shoe against stone, but that was enough. In a second, Alvin had grabbed the bo staff next to them and braced it upwards. Damian stared at him, eyes ablaze with murderous intent.
During the struggle that was held for a few seconds, reality shifted in and out of focus. Even if they were still staring at each other, Damian was watching for something. Testing the two strengths against each other, this was a test of some kind.
And just as the world came back into focus there was a knife heading for its gut-
Beast bucked Damian off of it, and while he was still in the air Beast jabbed its staff towards his gut. His sword shoved the point of the staff out of the way, and in a moment they were both trading blocks and blows, twirling around each other.
Damian got too close, slicing through its side and-
Beast launched itself back at the same moment Damian did. Bruce skidded to a stop in between the both of them. Beast took one glance at Bruce and decided to go hold its side. The buildup of blood on its hands would be useful for later, even if the hand contact to open wounds increased the chance of infection. The dramatics would be useful.
"Damian Al Ghul." Bruce growled, "This is not the way to get your birthright. This is not the proper way to get anything you may want in this household."
"To move up in rank you must get rid of the person in the way. Free up the spot." Damian said threateningly, but his eyes didn't move from Bruce for a moment. It was a sign of respect, probably. Beast didn't care for these things.
"You would not be accepted into the Robin role if you killed Tim, Damian. We have gone over this." Bruce asserted.
Beast glanced at the both of them and decided it would be fine if it checked on its wounds. It pulled up its shirt to glance at the gash, poking and pulling to make sure it wasn't deep enough to be likely to have hit organs. It looked barely a half inch deep, and at most would've glanced one of its intestines. Not likely needing immediate assistance.-
Oh, Bruce was staring. "Tim?" He asked.
"Fine," Beast waved off, unable to keep a growl out of its voice, "I'll stitch myself, no need for Alfred."
"Anything that needs stitches gets you benched for at least 4 days." Bruce stated, there was an edge in his voice that sounded angry.
"I'm fine," Beast barked, "Deal with the assassin your stupid fling shat out. He's going to find more ways to disappoint you if you don't give him the attention he got from birthright."
"Attention is not something you get from birthright, Drake-" Damian said at the same time Bruce spoke.
"Tim you need to call Alfred-" But Bruce cut himself off as he realized that Damian was speaking. They both glared at each other at the same time, though the smaller one had a glare that was slightly different, that's where the differences ended to Bruce.
Beast dragged itself towards the med.. room? The place they held all the shit that would let it sew itself back together. It started to treat its wound, distantly glad that it seemed no one else wanted to be here for this. Internal or otherwise.
It hissed at the alcohol, and then pressed a sterile bundle of cloth to the wound to grab any excess liquid. There was this thought in the back of its head-
if you were ANYBODY else you'd be calling Alfred right now. Get him. Get him. No, seriously Beast. You need to-
It groaned, and pressed the call button at the beginning on the room.
Alfred responded almost immediately, "Hello? What seems to be the problem?"
"Decent sized nick on my side from the new one- it's Drake, by the way. I don't think it hit any organs, but I was just thinking I should get stitched up anyway." Beast said. It didn't technically know how to stitch itself up, but it still hadn't wanted to call Alfred. The thought of inviting someone into its space when it was.. actively hurt was nowhere near good.
"Sir, I'll be right down." Alfred said with a small amount of urgency. That was probably because Beast mentioned its own organs. It was fine, it had meat on its bones. Blubber should've kept the blade away from anything important.
Alvin probably agreed with him on this, Tim- Shit, no Teigan- at the very least would've rushed away and called Alfred immediately, JJ wouldn't have gotten it treated at all, and Timmy would've started crying.
It probably did a good job at choosing the middle ground, right?… Yeah, waiting a second before calling Alfred is exactly what the Normal Drake would do. Yep.
It pulled the bundle of cloth away from its side, just to check. Not quite soaked through yet, Beast could wait for Alfred before doing anything that looked like more than just making sure it didn't bleed out. That's cool.
"More brawn won't make up for your lack of brains," Alvin taunted, not leaning forward but also a comfortable distance from Conner. The boy was usually all up in Drake's space, but Alvin was glad they had decided to tell him. That meant he didn't need to deal with the intrusion with Conner like he did with Dick.
"You say that, while we're in the batcave, where there's one of the largest gyms I have seen in my life. You know, dude, I think you should learn to appreciate what you have." Conner shot back, crossing his arms in lieu of his usual physical expression of closeness.
"And there's also one of the largest personal libraries, where every child who's lived here has stored their textbooks."
Conner sputtered indignantly, and most importantly theatrically. Alvin watched with an amused eye, but he kept anything else off of his facial expression. "Well listen here, smart ass! I- I am smart enough to be on a damn superhero team! Not that you'd known anything about actually getting there, handed on a silver platter as if you popped into existence!"
He rolled his eyes in response, "Grown, split- who really cares?" He glanced around him just to check that no one was hearing their talk. It was the bat cave, so he'd have to make sure they either did nothing suspect or that he muted the cameras at the right second.
"Who cares? The people who care about my self made pecs care." Conner flexed as he spoke, just as they were walking back into the manor.
"Those were grown. You got those from your present but negligent father." Alvin deadpanned.
"Come on Al,-" Shit. "-At least I got something good from my parents. Even if my distant and manipulative father is shitty, Clark gave me something I could use!"
"And now you're getting whiny. Conner, think about what you're saying." Alvin urged, though he completely knew that telling Conner to think about what he was saying was a dead giveaway that the other boy had said something he wasn't meant to. He needed to make sure that this was fixed now, however, as the boy had been invited to family night. By some miracle that Alvin wasn't going to examine too closely, as one of the others had pulled it off.
Conner paused, his eyebrows inched upward for just a second, and then he went back to talking as he had seconds ago. Alvin would just have to hope that no one in the family was watching at all, as the boy had more tells then Timmy did on a bad day.
.. That was an overstatement. Obviously, a boy who was vaguely enough close to Drake's age had less tells then the brain-made 8 year old child. However, with people like Harvey Dent and Clayface around, with their identity issues? The thought of bringing up anything he may think was going on in his head made him feel sick. That… that wasn't an overstatement.
They fell silent after that, and Alvin found himself staring at the ground. His mind swirling on the thought of someone finding out because of Conner's big fat mouth. His hands pulled down his sleeves like he could pretend that he was wearing gloves if his hands were covered.
Slowly, the fidgeting stopped, and slowly the world came back into focus- It had gone out. Drake glanced back up at Conner with a small questioning smile on his face.
"Oh, hey dude!" Conner greeted, sliding over and placing an arm over their shoulder casually.
JJ could barely hold back a small snicker, but it kept it quiet since they were in the manor. Well, it snickered until it could feel someone else stopping the expression. Darn.. whoever that was. "You're good at that."
"Not hard, especially because of how chill y'a- ya are around me, specifically."
"Do you know what we're watching?" He asked, looking around just to confirm- yep, there was the theater at the end of the hall.
"I don't know," Conner said casually. He was great at the entire acting like any memory issues was also a fault of his if there was anyone that was ever watching.
Suddenly, there was a voice on JJ's opposite side, "Dick's insisted on the Princess Bride."
"I thought ey would've gotten over that movie already. It's so-" Normal word? Please? "Cartoonish in it's humor at times. Could be a little less sparkles and rainbows, in my opinion."
They were so good at this. Someone was even making sure they weren't smiling. They couldn't keep track of their own smile, but the lack of one didn't send a shiver down their spine anymore.
"I agree. However, apparently it has been deemed important to my health that I get educated on the classics. The Princess Bride doesn't look anywhere near a classic."
Conner perked up, "You'd be right! Drake-" JJ saw Damian's eyes sharpen. Oooppss.. "-showed me the movie like- what? a month and a half ago? YJ has been all over getting me literate in their favorite references."
"To not know it at all would be-" Don't laugh don't laugh don't laugh- "Inconceivable."
Conner didn't laugh, but there was a cough to cover what would have been one. He was great about that, wasn't he? Supporting them, supporting Drake.
"Isn't it impolite to reference something you know someone in the conversation won't understand?" Damian asked pointedly.
"I think you can handle it." Teigan- oh, huh. Teigan snarked. He did suppose that this was a situation he was needed. Doing the entire Tim thing, even though he had stopped using that name at some point. Why were they switching so much? He did know he was better to deal with this then JJ was, at least.
Conner's hand squeezed her shoulder, he hadn't even looked at her? What was the show of support for? Had he noticed? Already? This happened two seconds ago!
"There are better things to be doing with my time, Drake. My blood right has yet to be fulfilled." Damian growled, glaring with all the power a child could while being much shorter than the recipient.
Teigan checked him over for knives- nothing, nothing at all that was poking out. He wasn't as good as Beast or Alvin, but he could trust that Damian wouldn't attack with a Kryptonian along his shoulders. He decided to not respond, and to instead open the door into the theater and have them go inside. Conner's arm slid off his shoulders. He tried his best to not mourn the loss.
The movie came along, and the switching didn't stop. Timmy was knocking on her door- never a good sign around family, but apparently they really liked this movie? Then Beast came in when Timmy got scared during the (very aptly PG rated) torture scene. Though, the reason any of them actually knew this was because Conner flicked it in the cheek when it grumbled too much.
Beast wasn't out of front by the time the movie ended, even with all the ooey gooey love ending bullshit. Stupid kids making them watch stupid shit.
"You could at least try to look more happy at a re watch." Conner teased, though Beast could practically hear the hesitation in the lack of a nickname. It appreciated the consideration, though, as anything too familiar would grind along something in its head.
"I'm tiired." Beast made sure it put a little whine on the word, as Teigan usually would. It rolled its eyes at its own performance and leaned against Conner's shoulder. It felt Damian's eyes on the two of them, and it shot a glare. As it did so, it saw Dick being a little too happy with this situation.
Losers, all of them.
"Do you know how you fix that? Sleep. You know, like, for this meat vessel you're piloting." Conner shook it slightly.
"I've been trying to tell him for the longest time. Not even Alfie'll help." Dick jumped in, leaning into what had felt like a bubble for a few seconds.
"My habits are my own." Beast ground out, trying its best to look at least a little slumped as it stood up. Its usual state was closer to aggressive, so to consciously relax its own body felt beyond strange. It crossed its arms to make sure it didn't look like it was trying to imitate a creature on four limbs.
Damian's eyes still stayed all too knowing, and Dick was watching it closely now as well. Teigan really had to call out? Really?
"He must be real tired to still be acting like Robin," Dick conceded, but that wasn't the answer it wanted at all. No, that was too close to the actual truth and ey was going to figure out-
And suddenly Beast had been picked up like a sack of potatoes, and its hands went twisting into the fabric of Conner's shirt. "Must be! I guess I have to do my duty as a part of his team, right?"
Damn Conner for reading its tells. Damn Conner for not letting it follow through on all of this teasing to it's natural end. Violence was widely accepted in this house as a valid response, Superboy.
"We're off to bed!" Conner announced before anyone else could say anything. Dick snickered at the phrasing, and Beast jutted a middle finger over Conner's shoulder at em.
Damian kept watching. Beast decided it wasn't something he could deal with in that moment.
Their psuedo-dad was dead, and no one wanted to deal with that.. apparently? JJ was the best one for the job! Not of his own choice, no, and wasn't that funny?- And this was when he got to learn Conner Kent was dead, too. Or.. gone? Who knew! Who knew, really?
Bruce was gone, Dick was stressed out of eir mind, and Damian was still on the verge of making another attempt on Drake's life at any point in time.
Sitting at the dinner table with Dick, and Damian had never been so… so funny! This is what happened when they were alone for too long. But.. but they could do it! They could absolutely pretend to be Teigan for long enough that someone could come back.
Not that JJ believed Bruce was dead, just like papa was bound to come back at any point in time Bruce would have to come back. Not that Dick understood that. But it wasn't like JJ could argue its points strongly enough without bursting out into laughter.
Damian was still staring as he always did, and Dick was still trying to draw his gaze away with eir own comments. JJ kept his face down into his food, pretending to be as depressed as possible. It wasn't like it was hard, everyone else in his head was depressed as shit.
Dick said something towards Damian, Damian looked over finally. What was it ey had said?- JJ was meant to be listening, probably.
Oh, now that JJ was listening- kind of- they could tell it was about Drake and how unresponsive they were. Damian's voice was slowly raising as if it could make JJ actually join the conversation, but they knew better than to do that. Dick's only response was to make sure that he was speaking loud enough that the possibility of being cut off wasn't as much of a worry. Which meant about half the volume.
Damian was getting vaguely ableist at this point. Or, the normalized version of ableism against people with depression. Blaming Drake for not being able to connect with reality, for not being able to talk. It made JJ want to laugh.
Dick was getting more defensive at this point, and JJ could only feel happy that this was a weekend where Steph was at her mom's. JJ kept its mouth shut by putting more food in its mouth. At least it was something with crunch, it tasted nothing like what Jo- what papa always had it eat.
So JJ focused on his food and the noise level slowly turned down. He was pretty sure the two others had completely left the room, and there was someone moving around the table now. The food kept going down, though. It started to feel suffocating. The way that food moved in his mouth and then down his throat. Even if the blockage was temporary and intentional it still felt unnatural.
A hand entered his vision, weathered and careful. JJ looked up at Alfred as the man spoke, "Young master Tim, my boy, are you doing alright?"
JJ set their utensils down, and shifted so they were at least mostly facing him. They couldn't stop a small smile on their face, even though Teigan wouldn't have smiled. "Yeah, Fifi. I'm doing swell."
"Hm, well, would you like to help me clean up?" Alfred asked, and that always required a yes unless there was some Important Stuff going on.
"Of course, Fifi, who would I be to refuse you?" There was something that was meant to go after that. Some dark joke that JJ just barely kept under wraps.
And so all the dishes were grabbed, and they moved towards the kitchen. JJ was put to washing the dishes, and Alfred was working on hand drying much of what was used to cook. The leftovers from Dick and Damian's plates was put in the fridge, and the last few scraps on JJ's plate was scraped into the trash.
It wasn't hard work, and quickly the dishes from the dinner were put on the rack. Alfred always said that small amounts of dishes ought to be hand washed, and hand washed anything used for cooking as it was "too expensive" to be put in the dishwasher. Which meant the only time the washer was run was when there was more than a measly 3 people eating at the table.
The feeling of washing dishes was enough to keep the laughter at bay for a while longer. This far out from his first years as Robin as he was, and papa long gone as well, made it so JJ had much of this "accidentally split during torture and crafted as a lifelong enemy's fake son" masking stuff down.
But then Alfred was guiding them downstairs, into the basement level that had room for much of the hired help that the manor once had. It was practically impossible to hear anything from above in these spaces, a measure for privacy. That was what JJ's mind was wandering on as Alfred guided them both down without much explanation.
They stopped after the doors to the floor closed behind them, another noise-suppression measure. Alfred looked JJ right in the eyes, and with a confident but concerned voice said, "My boy, there has only been one other time that you called me Fifi in your entire time in this manor. It was near the start of your career, do you remember?"
"Oh." JJ uttered, more of a sound than a word. All of their focus was going towards keeping a stress grin off of their face, not really responding like Teigan would. Stress smiling was not a trait that anybody they knew had, so they had to keep the smile off of their face because even if everything was too serious and they should be making light of the situation, they knew they couldn't.
"Do you?" Alfred lightly pressed.
"I- I do. That's when I was.. stuck between calling myself JJ and calling myself Tim." JJ couldn't help but say its own name out loud, too mentally stuck on itself as a concept right then. It should really be paying attention to itself more but after hearing Damian throw words and phrases out like useless and Should be able to do a simple thing and invalid it was difficult.
Alfred's voice shook a small amount when he spoke next. "I remember reading the reports of how you were treated, yes. I have to ask if you are doing alright right now, my boy. Hearing that name again is reason to worry."
JJ looked up at him, for some odd reason searching for permission for something. Not that he knew what he was asking, but just asking Alfred for permission to do.. something?
And Alfred's hand went up to their shoulder and squeezed. A comforting motion and something accepting in his eyes like they had never seen before. Something that knew what JJ was, something that saw through them in a way that had never happened. Not even when Conner was around.
And suddenly, before it could decide that this is what it was doing, it was folding forward into Alfred's chest and giggling lightly. Its arms bracketed against Alfred's chest, and the man's arms were wrapped around his body. And slowly that giggle turned into laughter. The laughter wasn't loud, but it felt violent to JJ. Weeks and weeks without a single amused noise made an action like this feel freeing.
JJ barely paid attention as the both of them were moved further into the hallway, and as the hallway opened up into what seemed like a communal space, and finally as they were both sat down on a couch.
When JJ pulled away, he noticed that his arms were wet- and that led to his face as well. He didn't know he could cry, not at all. That was strange. And suddenly words were tumbling out of his mouth."I- Fifi, I don't know what's going on."
"Hm?" Alfred encouraged.
"I mean- I should be used to this- blots of memory and wanting to go by a different name. It should be normal, it should be funny! It's worth laughing at, constantly wanting to change your own name and how you refer to yourself. It's been happening forever and… and I'm nothing like the villains we fight but I've been acting like I have OSDD or DID and I've been encouraging it! Ha! Can you? Heh- can you imagine that! Timothy Drake, with DID! What a huge scandal! What an absolute masterpiece of a show! The audience that could get but-
"But I come back, and I can't hear anyone else telling me how to act for the first time since the first time I came around, and I learn that Conner's gone and he was always the best at talking to me alone, right? Ha- so I don't even have anyone to talk to! All I have is someone who's tried to-" JJ couldn't even keep in a small trail of laughter here.
"Tried to kill me! Someone who's tried to kill me, my ex, and a man crumbling under the cape and cowl who already knows too much! Who refers to me and Robin like we're separate! Can you imagine that? He knew before I did! Fuck- I don't even care about Batman! I don't, shit- HA- you know him as Bruce, and I should as well because of how long I've been adopted by him, but hell if I give two flying shits about the man!
"And now I'm stuck with no back up and a grieving family and the only choice I have is to act like I'm depressed. And hell, wouldn't that be my papa's least favorite show in the world?!- And all I can do! Is Act! Like it's my full time job, rather than taking over as CEO for Bruce Wayne!"
JJ was left panting after all this, curling around himself on the other side of the couch he somehow managed to get himself on. His shoulders moved along with unbidden giggles as he got himself back together.
"Drake?" Alfred said, and JJ was forced to look up. "I believe you, alright? And you're nothing like Clayface or Two face, not at all, not to me. I won't say I haven't noticed things, but I didn't think of it as important to mention. You lead a very stressful life, my boy, and it's understandable that you might've developed something like this."
"I'm sorry, Fifi, I sorry I lied, and I'm sorry I'm complicating things, and I'm sorry you should be able to grieve on your own time-"
"Drake." Alfred cut in, and that was an intentional use of its last name wasn't it? No title either, just the last name. "You are fine. You are stressed out by living in a grieving household, and you are looking for support. I am one of two people older than you in this family. It's to be expected you would search for me at some point in time."
"Fifi, you're great." JJ finally conceded, trying his best to let go of all that other shit in his head and just.. calm down. His arms were wrapped around himself in a hug and his head was lolling down.
"Would you give an old man one more hug? I think it's deserved after all that." The man said while opening his arms.
JJ clambered over, and gave him his hug. The questions would come later, JJ knew. But Alfred was polite enough to give him time to get back up on his feet.