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{Wakey wakey, Robbie-poo!}
Tim’s eyes flew open. He sat up in his bed and looked around frantically. There was no one there. He was alone.
{Think again, Junior}
Tim blinked, and suddenly he was no longer in his bedroom at Wayne Manor. He was back there.
{Did you miss me? I’ve been waiting for a family reunion for ages!}
The realization washed over Tim like ice. That wasn’t JJ’s voice. That was –
“Good morning, Sonny Boy!” Joker sang as he stepped into the light.
Oh no.
No no no no no no no no no no no no NO.
It couldn’t be. It was impossible. Joker was dead. Tim had killed him himself.
Hadn’t he?
He tried to run away, but he was strapped down. He felt the rust on the old operating table scratch his bare arms.
Joker stepped up to him, leaning forward until their faces almost touched. “Now, now, aren’t you gonna give your old man a kiss?”
His breath was hot and rancid against Tim’s cheek. “Y-you’re not real,” Tim croaked. “You’re dead. You’re not real.”
Joker laughed, sending chills down Tim’s spine. Tim wanted to vomit. “You didn’t think a little metal rod to the chest would be enough to keep us apart, did you, Junior?”
“M-my name isn’t Junior,” Tim insisted. “It’s Tim. Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne.”
“Tsk, tsk,” Joker shook his head. “It seems we have forgotten whom we belong to. Perhaps someone is in need of a little refresher course.”
With a howl of laughter, Joker grabbed a nearby knife. He wrapped his free hand around Tim’s throat as he lifted the blade to the boy’s face.
“I see someone’s had some work done,” Joker narrowed his eyes. “Such a shame to coverup the beautiful smile I crafted for you. I guess I’ll have to go deeper this time, so you’ll never forget who you are again, Joker Junior.”
He plunged the knife into Tim’s cheek.
The horribly familiar sound of Tim’s screaming caused Bruce to shoot up in bed. Without even taking the time to grab his robe or house shoes, he took off in the direction of his son’s bedroom.
It had been two weeks since Tim had killed the two henchmen in the warehouse. Since then, Tim had suffered more episodes and relapses than he had in months. Tonight was only the second night they had felt comfortable enough to let Tim sleep in his room by himself.
Obviously, that had been a mistake.
He burst into the room, Dick and Jason following closely behind him. Tim was in his bed, thrashing about and screaming bloody murder.
Dick sprang into action. “Tim! Wake up, bud. It’s just a dream,” he called as he jumped onto the bed. He grabbed Tim from behind and held him firmly against his chest to ensure the boy wouldn't hurt himself. “It’s just a dream, Tim. You’re not there. You’re safe.”
“Jason, go get a sedative ready,” Bruce ordered. “Hopefully we won’t need it, but I want to be prepared just in case.”
Jason looked at his little brother, obviously conflicted, then nodded and exited the room.
“It’s okay, Timmy, you’re okay,” Dick whispered.
Tears were streaming down Tim’s too pale cheeks as he struggled against whatever flashback he was being subjected to. Bruce moved over to sit on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on his son’s knee. He could only imagine the horrors Tim was seeing.
“S-stop,” Tim pleaded. His mouth filled with blood from the fresh slashes on his cheek.
“But now you look like me again, JJ! Isn’t that just great?” Joker cackled. “Now we’re two peas in a pod.”
“I’m nothing like you,” Tim whispered. “I’ll never be like you.”
“Oh, but you already are, Sonny,” Joker sang. “You killed those two lackeys, remember? You even made one of them smile just like I made you smile! Daddy’s so proud of you. You’re quite the chip off the ol’ Jack-in-the-Box, eh?”
“That wasn’t – I mean, I didn’t –” Tim croaked. Warm tears ran down his cheeks and disappeared into the bloody caverns of his newest wounds.
“But you did. You killed those two poor idiots in cold blood. That makes you a lot more like me than Batsy, right? You’re a real Joker, now!”
“I don’t wanna be here,” Tim wept. “I wanna go home.”
“Don’t be silly,” Joker said, grabbing Tim’s face and forcing their eyes to meet. “You are home, buddy boy. This will always be your home. No matter how much you try to deny it, I’m a part of you now. And there’s nothing you can do that will make me go away.”
He started laughing again, and Tim was forced to join soon after. He couldn’t stop laughing. The Joker would never leave him alone. No matter how much “better” he thought he was getting, it would never be enough. He was cursed to live a broken life forever. It was a horrible realization, but Tim couldn’t stop laughing.
Even as the Joker and the Old Arkham building faded into black.
Any relief Bruce felt when Tim’s eyes opened was crushed when the boy started giggling.
“You’re okay, son. You’re safe,” Bruce soothed.
Tim’s eyes fixed onto his own. They were a dark whirlpool of sadness and despair even as the rest of Tim’s face was all giggles and grins.
“I’ll never be safe,” Tim snickered as tears began to fall. “I’ll never be safe because he will never be gone.”
“He is gone, Tim,” Dick assured, still rocking his brother back and forth. “He’s dead, remember? He can’t hurt you anymore.”
Tim let out a half-laugh, half-sob that split Bruce’s heart in two. “He’s dead, but he still hurts me. As long as I’m still here, he can still hurt me.”
“We’re going to figure this out, Tim. We’ll try some different medications or increase your therapy sessions. We’ll figure out a way to help you.”
“I can’t be helped,” Tim giggled. “I can only hurt and be hurt. Daddy said so. He knows what I did to those two men. He said I’m just like him.”
“You’re nothing like him, kid,” Jason huffed as he rejoined the group. “Trust me, I would know.”
Tim wriggled out of Dick’s grasp and wrapped his arms around his knees. “But I am. He’s in my head. I can’t get rid of him. Not unless I get rid of myself, too.”
Dick furrowed his brow. “Tim, what do you mean by –”
Tim wildly swung at them with his wrist cast then turned to the wall. Bruce, who had been getting ready for an attack, redirected the injured extremity easily and grabbed Tim by the waist. He yanked his son off of the bed and onto the floor just before the boy could start slamming his head into the wall.
“NO! I wanna die!” Tim screamed. “Just let me die!”
“Jason,” Bruce pleaded as he fought to keep Tim immobile. The boy continued fighting with everything he had, but he was thankfully no match for the Batman.
Jason nodded grimly and took the capped syringe out of his pocket.
Tim went ballistic.
“No! You can’t put me to sleep. Anything but that. You can’t send me back there. He’s back there. Please! Just let me kill myself. I can’t live like this anymore!”
“Bruce…” Dick began. His face was saying, “Do we really have to?”
Bruce paused. He didn’t like the idea of sedating Tim, either, but it was better than risking Tim hurting himself.
Tim was having a full-on panic attack now. He sobbed and hiccuped as he fought and fought. “Please don’t! I can’t go back! Don’t make me go back to him!”
Jason put the syringe back in his pocket. “Fuck that,” he mumbled. “I’m not sedating him when he’s still Tim.” He sat down on the ground beside where Bruce had Tim restrained. “Dick, grab his weighted blanket. Bruce, make sure he doesn’t hurt himself. I’m gonna try to get through to him.”
Bruce was more than happy to let Jason give the orders. His second eldest had developed a particularly close bond with Tim since he had been taken. He had even gone as far as to move back into the manor to help take care of his little brother. And he just... had a way with Tim. He was always able to calm him down more quickly than Bruce or even Dick.
He sat up as much as he could and pulled Tim tightly against his chest. Dick came around with the blanket and draped it over his little brother.
Jason maneuvered himself so that he was right in front of Tim’s face. “Hey, kiddo, you’re having a panic attack. I know it’s scary, but what you were seeing wasn’t real, okay? Can you open your eyes for me?”
Tim slowly complied. “P-please don’t let him take me again,” he whispered.
Jason raised his empty hands. “I’m not going to touch you. You’re not going anywhere you don’t want to as long as I’m around, alright? Now, I need you to breathe with me, okay? I want you to inhale for one, two, three, and then exhale one, two, three.”
Jason coached Tim until the younger boy was able to stop hyperventilating. “Good job, bud. Next, I want you to list five things you can see.”
“I see blood. So much blood. And Him.”
“He’s not here, I promise. Blink a couple of times and try again.”
Tim obeyed. He blinked a few times, causing fresh tears to spill onto his cheeks. “I-I see you,” he croaked.
Jason smiled and nodded. “Very good. What else can you see?”
“M-my bed. And Dick.”
“Two more things.”
Tim looked down at himself. “I see my Ninja Turtles blanket. A-and Bruce.”
“You’re doing great, bud. Now, tell me four things you can hear.”
Tim’s lip trembled. “I hear him laughing at me. Telling me I’m just like him and that he’ll never leave me alone.”
“And now you’re hearing me tell him to ‘fuck off’,” Jason huffed. “That’s two. What else can you hear? Really try to focus.”
“I hear the ceiling fan. And Bruce’s heartbeat.”
“Awesome job. Next, tell me three things you can feel.”
“M-my blanket and Bruce’s arms and the carpet,” Tim replied. He had stopped fighting, but Bruce didn’t dare let his son go.
“You’re almost done, kiddo,” Jason encouraged. “Keep it up. What are two things you can smell?”
“I smell Bruce’s aftershave. And Alfred’s fabric softener,” Tim said.
“Alfred’s fabric softener’s the best,” Jason smiled. “Finally, what is one thing you can taste?”
Tim was silent for a moment. “I can still taste my toothpaste from earlier.”
“You don’t still use that strawberry shit that four-year-olds use, do you?”
The corners of Tim’s mouth twitched upward into a ghost of a smile. “It’s watermelon.”
Jason rolled his eyes playfully. “We have got to get you some adult toothpaste. Bruce, tell Alfred to put that on the grocery list.”
“I like the watermelon,” Tim defended over a yawn.
“You gettin’ sleepy, kiddo?” Bruce asked.
“I’m afraid to go back to sleep,” Tim said, burying his face into his father’s chest. “He’s gonna be there.”
“Well luckily for you, you’ve got two older brothers and the Batman himself here to protect you,” Jason assured. “If he shows up, we’ll gladly kick his ass. I still have a personal grudge I would love to act on.”
Tim looked up at Bruce. “You’re gonna stay?”
“Of course,” Bruce replied quickly. “I promise I’m not going anywhere.”
“Dibs on cuddling him first!” Dick said. He had already gotten under the covers and made himself comfortable on Tim’s king-sized bed (they had made the upgrade months earlier when Tim had needed someone to stay with him every night).
“Are you ready to get back in the bed?” Bruce asked. Tim nodded, so Bruce loosened his grip and helped Tim stand up. The younger boy crawled into his bed and settled against his big brother’s chest.
“I’m sorry,” Tim mumbled.
Dick carded his hand through Tim’s hair. “What for, Timmy? No one got hurt.”
“I know, but I’m still sorry. Because I meant it.”
Jason met eyes with Bruce. “Meant what?”
“That I wanted to die,” Tim said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Do you still feel that way?” Dick asked reluctantly.
“I think so. I just want it to stop. I want him to stop. I feel like he’s never gonna leave me alone. I can’t keep going on like this. I’m sorry,” Tim sniffled. Dick hugged his little brother a little tighter.
The admission didn’t surprise Bruce, but that didn’t make it any less devastating. Tim had been struggling the last couple of weeks, sure, but he hadn’t been suicidal (at least not in a lucid state) in almost six months.
It made Bruce want to break into Arkham Asylum and make that son-of-a-bitch Blue Mask pay.
“Hey, I know this may not mean jackshit, but it’s gonna get better, kid,” Jason said, taking his spot on the bed next to Dick so that Tim was sandwiched between them. “Up until a couple weeks ago, you hadn’t had an episode in weeks. You’ve had a setback now, sure, but I don’t gotta tell you recovery isn’t linear. You’re gonna have setbacks, but then you’re going to get better again. You just gotta keep fighting ’til then.”
“I’m tired of fighting, Jay. I just want to be able to sleep without him being there.”
“That’s the beauty of family, kiddo. Took me long enough to realize it, but the great thing about having a family is you’re not in the fight alone. If you get tired of fighting, there will be someone there to help pick up the slack.”
Tim yawned again as his eyes drifted closed. “I’ll try. As long as you don’t leave.”
Dick smiled. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Timmy.”
Jason looked back up at Bruce. “Ya comin’, Old Man? Or are ya just gonna stand there all night?”
Bruce smiled at his boys, infinitely grateful that Tim had brothers who were much better equipped to help him than Bruce was. “Yeah, I’m coming.”