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“Tim, I need a favor.”
Tim politely excused himself from the conversation he’d been having with two executives he didn’t care to remember the names of. Inside his jacket pocket, he squeezed his stress toy repeatedly. It was his way of keeping himself grounded. He’d never enjoyed galas, but nowadays, they were even worse. It was really hard to control himself in such environments. Everyone looked at him with either pity or disgust hidden underneath fake smiles.
He hated fake smiles.
Once he was properly disengaged, Stephanie grabbed his wrist and tugged him towards the dance floor.
“What’s wrong?” Tim asked, scanning the area for threats. He caught sight of the rest of his siblings. Dick was, as usual, flirting with Barbara. Jason was nursing a glass of champagne in the corner, watching over his family from afar and glaring at anyone who looked like they were going to approach him. Damian and Cass were seated at one of the tables stuffing their faces with snacks. None of them seemed the least bit concerned.
Steph stopped them in the middle of the ballroom. A string quartet was playing a classical tune. It sounded vaguely familiar, though Tim couldn’t place it. Couples decked out in lavish dresses and expensive tuxedos waltzed across the open floor.
“Nothing’s wrong,” she promised. Her blonde hair was curled and cascaded down the back of her dark green dress. She looked absolutely gorgeous. “I was just going to pop an aneurysm if one more creepy old man asked me to dance.”
“You want me to dance with you?” Tim guessed.
Steph grinned at him and threw her hands around his neck. “You are the smart one.”
Tim rolled his eyes but brought his hands up to her hips anyway. He’d always struggled to tell her “no.” Even when they weren’t romantically entangled, Stephanie Brown had him wrapped around her finger.
“So, how’s your night been thus far?” she asked.
“Boring for the most part,” Tim admitted. “Though, I suppose that’s better than the alternative.”
Tim only went out in public when it was absolutely necessary. The scars around his mouth were hardly noticeable since his plastic surgery, and even less so with the makeup he wore, but he knew people still stared. Just like they stared at his unnaturally pale skin and the horrific “J” branded into his neck.
{We scare them,} JJ reminded.
No shit, Sherlock.
Steph nodded. “Sure. And you’re doing okay?”
“So far so good,” he huffed. “Just can’t wait until it’s over. All the forced smiles just put us – shit, I mean me – on edge.”
{Nice one, Bird Brain. Now she definitely thinks we’re crazy. Not that there was any doubt.}
She frowned, concern shining in her bright blues eyes. “You know you can leave if you need to, right?”
It was true. Bruce promised him that before any public function.
“If it gets to be too much at any point, Tim,” he’d say, “alert a family member and get yourself out. You’re more important than any charity.”
“I’m fine,” he assured, taking a second to twirl her around. “It’s… manageable right now.”
He’d been dealing with rich assholes his entire life. Hell, it wasn’t even his first gala since the Incident. He could handle it. At least this particular function was being held at Wayne Manor. He knew all the best hiding places should worse come to worst.
“If you’re sure. Just promise me you’ll let me know if anything changes?”
Tim gave her a reassuring smile – a real smile, not a forced one. “I promise. Now, let’s focus on dancing, yeah?”
They danced together until they saw Bruce walking onto the stage. He’d been chosen to give the spiel on the charity the gala had been thrown for. They were raising money for the new Neon Knights crisis center. It was going to benefit the at-risk youth in downtown Gotham City and offer assistance to those wanting to escape the gangs that still plagued their streets. Tim had spearheaded the project, but he still wasn’t ready to make any public speeches. Hence, Bruce.
“Good evening,” the billionaire greeted the crowd. “I want to thank you all for joining us tonight.”
Behind him, the large screen lit up. It showed the old, abandoned factory Wayne Enterprise had recently purchased. The plan was to restore the dilapidated building and convert it into the crisis center.
“This old factory has laid empty for over a decade,” Bruce explained, motioning to the screen behind him. “It may not look like much now, but with the help of your generous donations, we can give this building new life as a beacon of hope for our young people. Our plan is to –”
Suddenly, the screen changed. The powerpoint Bruce had prepared was replaced with a video.
Oh no.
The video was of Tim.
The rusty operating table. The tattered purple suit and sloppily dyed green hair. The Old Arkham building. It was all playing on a jumbo screen in front of the entire gala.
“Good morning, JJ!” A sing song voice rang out.
Tim was pretty sure his heart stopped.
{Daddy’s home movies!} JJ screeched, his voice full of sadistic glee.
Somewhere, far away, he felt a soft hand grab his. “Tim, c’mon, we gotta get you out of here,” a familiar voice pleaded.
But Tim couldn’t move. All he could do was watch as the Joker stalked towards him with a glowing-hot brand.
The Tim onscreen struggled uselessly against his restraints. Struggling never worked. It never worked at all. “Stay the fuck away from me!”
“Now, now, is that anyway to talk to your old man? It seems your previous father never taught you to respect your elders. But don’t worry, JJ, I’ll make sure this time it’s ‘seared’ into your brain!”
The madman grabbed his victim by the hair and shoved the hot metal onto his exposed neck. Screen-Tim’s scream was animalistic. It made the Joker laugh. His unhinged cackle echoed off the walls of the ballroom.
“No, no, no, no, no, no, no,” Tim whispered, over and over and over again. Giggles were scratching at his throat, begging to be released. The scar on his neck suddenly alit with white-hot agony, and he could smell the horrid stench of his own burning flesh.
He was back There.
“Shit. Shit. Shit,” Steph chanted. She was forcing herself to keep her eyes away from the screen as she all but dragged Tim across the floor. By the time she’d finally been able to move him, he’d gone pretty much catatonic (unsurprisingly, none of the onlookers had offered to help her). Videos of Tim’s time in captivity were still playing in the background, the horrible mix of morose laughter and agonized screams bursting through the speakers.
Finally, backup arrived.
“He’s shutdown,” she reported as Dick and Jason ran up to them. Both of them looked deeply disturbed. As was she.
“Barbara’s trying to shut the broadcast down,” Dick explained over the horrific soundtrack. “We need to get him out of here.”
“I got him,” Jason volunteered. Stephanie gently passed Tim over to his brother, thankful not to be the one in charge of moving him anymore. Tim wasn’t heavy by any means, but between her impractical-yet-smoking-hot dress and equally impractical-yet-smoking-hot-heels, it was a miracle she hadn’t broken an ankle trying to get him away from the crowd. Jason easily scooped Tim into his arms and started making a beeline for the family wing. Steph and Dick followed closely behind him.
They kept moving until they could no longer hear the videos. Once they were in the clear, they found an empty sitting room with some couches and shut themselves in.
“Are you with us, Timbers?” Jason asked as he gingerly lowered Tim onto one of the couches.
Tim didn’t respond. His eyes were glazed over and full of unshed tears. Only the occasional giggle pushed its way past his lips. Steph hadn’t seem her friend this bad off in a while.
“I texted Cass. She’s bringing an emergency kit,” Dick announced.
Tim had a few emergency kits stashed around. Steph had helped put them together using what she’d learned from Leslie and her intense (borderline obsessive) research on PTSD and psychiatric disorders.
She slowly sat down on the couch next to her friend. Tim gave no indication of registering her presence. She looked to the other two men in the room, and they both nodded at her. They all knew the importance of having one voice speak to Tim at a time, and Dick and Jason had effectively given her the floor.
“Tim, I want you to know that you’re safe right now,” she began, keeping her voice smooth and level. “You’re currently dissociating, and that’s okay. I know you’ll come back when you’re ready. Just know that you’re not going to be alone at any point in time. We’re not going to leave you. You’re safe.”
A singular tear ran down Tim’s cheek.
Stephanie continued to speak encouraging statements to Tim while they waited for Cass. Dick paced the room, watching them nervously. Jason remained a statue. Steph could only imagine what was going through his head.
Finally, Cass arrived.
She’d brought a weighted blanket along with the emergency kit. She hurried into the room and dropped the kit onto Steph’s lap.
“Good thinking, Cass,” Stephanie told her best friend. While Cass draped the blanket over Tim’s shoulders, Stephanie opened the kit and retrieved an ice pack. She popped the seal and shook it, feeling it grow cold in her palm. Then, she placed it in Tim’s shaking hands.
He let out a shuddering breath.
“Good job, Tim,” Stephanie praised. She reached into the kit again and pulled out a piece of sour candy. She unwrapped it and held it up to his lips. “Now try to suck on this for me. Can you do that?”
With some more prompting, Tim allowed her to push the candy into his mouth. He sucked on it for a moment, his lips puckering at the tartness.
Then, he spoke.
“He’s here,” Tim giggled nervously, hugging his knees against his chest. “Everyone saw him. He’s here.”
“I know you saw him, Tim, but we took you away. You’re nowhere near him anymore. You’re safe,” Steph promised. “Can you look at me?”
Tim didn’t stop giggling, but he did turn to face her. His teary eyes were wide with unhidden fear.
“Good job. It’s okay to be scared, Tim, but we’re all here to protect you.”
“He’s in my head,” Tim choked out between laughs. “He’s always in my head. It’s so loud.”
The laughing was getting worse, which told Stephanie he was transitioning out of dissociation and into a panic attack. And panic attacks frequently spiraled into psychotic episodes which more often than not resulted in violence.
They needed to nip it in the bud.
“It’s going to be okay, Tim. We’re going to help you,” she assured. “Just take some deep breaths for me.”
“I-I can’t,” he whispered. He blinked a few times, and Stephanie could see a sliver of lucidity in his gaze. “St-Steph, I c-can’t stop. P-please help me. Make it stop.”
“Cass,” Steph said, knowing her friend would get the message. Cass nodded and started gently but quickly undoing Tim’s suit jacket. Meanwhile, Steph grabbed a loaded syringe and an alcohol swab out of the emergency kit.
Dick and Jason hovered closely, ready to pounce if Tim got violent. Cass had gotten Tim’s upper arm pulled out of his sleeve, exposing enough skin for Steph to give the injection. Thankfully, Tim wasn’t fighting his sister. It seemed all he could do at the moment was laugh around strangled gasps.
“This will make it stop, Tim,” Steph promised as she quickly cleaned the sight. She slid the needle in and pushed down on the syringe until all the liquid had seeped into the muscle.
They all watched with bated breaths as the sedatives slowly took effect. As the laughter faded back into giggles, Steph gently guided Tim’s head onto her lap. She stroked his hair and whispered loving statements into his ear while Cass spread the weighted blanket over Tim’s body. Tears streamed down his face as the snickers grew quieter and were eventually replaced with sniffles and heartbreaking sobs.
After five long minutes, the boy closed finally his eyes and went limp.
Dick let out a breath. “Shit, I’m glad that’s over.”
They all were.
The door flew open, and a very frazzled Bruce came barging in.
“Easy, Old Man, the kid finally fell asleep,” Jason warned.
Bruce took a look at his son’s resting form then visibly relaxed. “Thank God. I couldn’t find you all anywhere. It’s a mess out there. I’m pretty sure I punched three different reporters trying to get out of it. How bad was it?”
“He was dissociating when we got to him,” Dick explained. “He started to come out of it, but then he started… escalating. We had to sedate him before things got any worse. Where’s Damian?”
“I left him with Alfred. He’s pretty shaken after what happened.”
“What the fuck, may I ask, was that out there?” Steph demanded. “I mean, I know what it was, but how? I thought we destroyed everything.”
“That was my impression as well,” Bruce grimaced. “Of course, I have the videos downloaded onto the Batcomputer, but they are sealed under the highest level of security. And Oracle has assured me that no one has accessed them or hacked into our systems. It had to have come from somewhere else.”
Jason crossed his arms. “So, what? You think that Joker sent the videos out to someone before Tim killed him?”
“It’s something we’re looking into. Barbara’s working on tracking the origin of the broadcast now.”
“It’s not still playing, is it?” Dick asked, looking pained.
Bruce shook his head. “We were able to shut it down, but people aren’t going to forget what they saw.”
Stephanie’s eyes widened. “Our identities weren’t compromised, were they?”
The air in the room was sucked out for a moment. Tim had admitted to telling Joker everything during his captivity. Not that anyone remotely blamed him. And with the Joker dead, it hadn’t really matter in the end.
Unless, of course, Joker had shared his findings with others.
Thankfully, Bruce shut down their fears. “No, nothing that was shown indicated our vigilante identities. So either whoever did this has no desire to expose us, or the Joker only shared the videos that showed Tim out of costume.”
“That motherfucker is really never gonna leave us alone,” Jason huffed.
“I promise you all I’m going to find those responsible for tonight,” Bruce vowed, “and Oracle and I will ensure every single copy of those videos are found and destroyed. Tim won’t be subjected to this again.”
Even though Tim was now asleep, Stephanie continued stroking his hair. Tim was one of the most important people in her life. She hated seeing him in so much pain all of the time. It seemed like every time he seemed to be getting better, the universe would step in and fuck him over again. It just wasn’t fair.
Later, they would find out that Joker had sent copies of his “home movies” to his most trusted lieutenant a few days before Batman and Co. had busted in to rescue Tim. Said lieutenant, they would come to find, was now a leader in one of the local gangs. He’d been sitting on the videos for over a year, waiting for the perfect opportunity to knock the third Wayne child down a peg. With the new crisis center threatening to impede on his recruitment pool, he’d figured the fundraiser would be the perfect time to strike. And when Batman, Robin, and Spoiler would storm his compound a few days later, they’d be relieved to find out that the Joker had not, in fact, included Red Robin in his movies. And, after that night, all the copies will have been destroyed.
But that would come later. For now, Steph was going to stay by Tim’s side, just as she had promised.