Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There’s a knock on his door.  

Knock. Knock.

Who’s there?

“Tim, sweetheart, I’m going in.”

Mommy’s lost and Daddy’s dead, a little robin with his marbles in a heck.

And now he has a bag of pills and a room to be looked in.  

Who’s going in?

Batsy is.

The door opens and Batsy comes inside. His flock of hatchlings and pups follows him, right at his heels.

Junior giggles uncontrollably. Laugh, laugh, JayJay!

How long has he been laughing? His throat hurts. Junior pulls his knees closer to his chest, hugging them tightly.

Batsy sits on the bed right next to Junior. He seems hung up on something. Like a bat.

“Tim, you need to breathe. Listen to me. You are Tim Drake-Wayne. You are in the Wayne Manor, your room specifically. You are my son.”

Junior makes a face at Batsy. What’s he doing? Batsy takes a deep but shaky breath and starts repeating.

“You are Tim Drake-Wayne. You are in the Wayne Manor, your room specifically. You are my son.”

“What the fuck is going on?” an angry (scared) voice voices.

White streak. Red Helmet. Red Hood. Red Hood! Wasn’t that daddy’s name? He stole it!

No, no. Imitation is the best form of flattery, JayJay.

Is that so?

“Master Tim is in the middle of a fit,” Mr. Butler says. Mr. Butler has always been kind. Always answered Junior's questions with discretion.

Big Blue’s blue eyes go so wide. He should be careful or they’ll fall out!

“What kind of fit is this? What is happening to Drake!” Baby Batsy demands. How scary!

Junior giggles.

“He came into contact with the Joker toxin on the last patrol. I thought he took an antidote in time,” Batsy says.

Mr. Butler goes through his drawers. What is he hoping to find? A cheese-grind?

“He doesn’t have any pre-described medicine here. I know we have an additional bottle in the Batcave. I’ll go retrieve it, Master Bruce.”

Silent Shadow looks at Junior with sad eyes and leaves with Mr. Butler.

“This is not what a normal fit looks like when someone is dosed with the Joker toxin. Bruce, what is happening?” Big Blue frantically moves closer to Junior, only stopping when Batsy raises a hand that orders him to freeze. Maybe there really is a cheese.

“When Tim was Robin, he had a bad run with Joker- “ Batsy starts to tell but Junior gasps with enlightenment.

“I know. I know. I can tell the story,” Junior says with excitement.  

This is going to be fun!

When eyes turn on him, Junior smiles, wide so wide, and for the first time, takes a deep breath.

“Once upon a time, there was Jokester and a bird. Said Jokester caught the little birdie in his snare. He kept the birdie and played with him. Electric shocks to make him forget. Bleach to make him change his visage. Cuts to test his resilience. And slowly, very slowly, the birdie lost his feathers and made daddy and mommy proud.”

Daddy’s imitator chokes on his breath. With a shaking hand, he squeezes his neck.

So many emotions already! How good is his story?

“Joker Junior, they called him. JayJay, they affectionately said. Sonny, they ordered him.”

Big Blue takes a step back. Is his story bad? Well, let’s turn that.

“Luckily for the little birdie, papa Batsy was frantic in his search. With girly Batty, they found their lost bird.”

Baby Batsy reaches with his hand and grabs Big Blue’s shirt hem. And Big Blue puts his hand on top of his head, a protective move with just as much care. Oh, how adorable.

“But they came late.” Junior sighs and laments, shaking his head. “The feathers have been burned off away. And a new weapon was given to it instead of flight.”

Junior makes a pistol gesture with his fingers and points it at daddy’s imitator. “Bang. Bang. The weapon did.”

Daddy’s imitator jerks as if he were being hit.

Silly. The gun is fake.

Junior giggles.

“At Batsy, the weapon was aimed. ‘Make daddy proud! Now this is a punchline!’ A choice was to be made. Click, the button did. Bang, the weapon played.”

Junior dramatically pauses, bathing in the tension he created. The scared looks just heighten the state of the plot.

“Jokester's breath was taken away. ‘That’s not funny’ he said at last, cause death he was, afterwards.” Junior’s breath hitches. Blink and it’s away.

“And the little birdie was free again. His feathers had grown back with strength. A flight he could take off with a rein. Alone, he was not, but happy that was,” Junior finishes.

He waits for the applause and receives none. Was his story bad? Should he be mad?

Shame on him. Shame on them. He entertained well.

“Your name is Tim Drake-Wayne. You are in the Wayne Manor, your room specifically. You are my son,” Batsy speaks.

Has he not heard? That repeat leads to madness. He should be careful, or he’ll lose his marbles.

“I found his pills.”

“Thank you, Alfred.”

Batsy hugs Junior and he can feel some of the tension leave his body. It's grounding.

Weird. Since when does JayJay need to feel stressed?  

“It’s going to be alright, sweetheart.” Batsy- Bruce kisses his temple.

Tim believes him.

Chapter Text

Bruce is working on tracing the possible path of a lost batch of alien weapon parts, conversing with Barbara through the Batcomputer when Alfred hurriedly steps into the Batcave.

He hadn‘t seen Alfred behave like this in a long time and Bruce’s first reaction is to look around out for his children.

He, or Alfred really, managed to gather them all for a weekend together to celebrate the butler’s birthday. Tim visited from his Nest. Cass left Hong Kong and Jason returned from his travels with the Outlaws. Dick and Damian were already staying here because of a case anyway, while Stephanie and Duke lingered only for the celebration and then returned to their homes.

Now, almost everyone is here in the Cave. Today’s patrol was short and Damian still wanted to spend some of his energy fighting Jason. Cass is splayed all over Dick’s side, listening to one of his stories when he was Robin. Stephanie and Duke are long gone, safely in their homes. That means only Tim is unaccounted for.

That’s not good.

“Master Bruce. Your immediate presence is needed in Tim’s room. His… Junior issue is back.”

Bruce stops breathing. He can’t hear that right. There’s no way. It has been so long since they struggled with that situation.

Ignoring Barbara’s exclamation coming from the Batcomputer, he rushes to the Manor. He notices the attention he gathered from all of his present kids but pays no heed to their sudden questions.

An uncontrollable laughter can be heard from behind Tim’s door and like tendrils, it is trying to take over the space of Bruce’s brain. There is a static between his ears.

Coldness fills Bruce’s veins and freezes his blood.

No. No. Nononononono.

Bruce wants to barge in but from previous - why does he have to have data from the previous? - instances, he’s aware that a calm approach is the best one. Thankfully, compartmentalisation is one of the mental arts he excels in and proceeds to lock unneeded thoughts away.

He knocks on the door. “Tim, sweetheart, I’m going in.”

Waiting for a few seconds, Bruce looks at his other children catching up to him and freezing as they hear Tim’s laughter. Jason especially looks shaken but tries to hide it behind his determined expression. He always was curious enough for it to be harmful to his health.

Bruce doesn’t want to let them in. Tim asked, begged him even, to keep this secret.

But right now he can’t stop them. His priority is to ground Tim back to reality.

He opens the door and strides next to Tim’s bed, taking his appearance in.

His child is pushed to the head of the bed and is curled into a tight ball. He’s still laughing and looking at Bruce with satisfaction and confusion in his eyes. A scary combination at this moment. If he’s correct, the Joker Toxin is the culprit behind Tim’s relapse. Today’s patrol was short but ruthless nonetheless.

Bruce sits close to Tim on the edge of the bed and faces him with a desperate need to change something in the way Tim dully stares at him.

“Tim, you need to breathe. Listen to me. You are Tim Drake-Wayne. You are in the Wayne Manor, your room specifically. You are my son.”

The confusion deepens and a frown appears on Tim’s face. That’s not good.

Bruce takes a deep but shaky breath and starts repeating, “You are Tim Drake-Wayne. You are in the Wayne Manor, your room specifically. You are my son.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Jason asks but Bruce can’t bring himself to turn any attention away from Tim.

———

“Master Tim is in the middle of a fit,” Alfred takes the lead in this conversation instead of Master Bruce, still feeling the initial shock running through his body.

It has been so many years…

“What kind of fit is this? What is happening to Drake!” Master Damian asks and Alfred can see the panic behind his carefully crafted mask of anger. Still so similar to what Master Bruce used as a child.

He ignores the way Master Tim giggles - it has been a long time since he sounded like this - and goes to the first drawer in the room. Unfortunately, this one seems to be empty of any medication.

“He came into contact with a Joker Toxin on today’s patrol. I thought he took an antidote in time,” Master Bruce answers and only years of service allow Alfred to see Master Bruce’s shakiness.

The next drawers which usually hold the mediation before are also empty. “He doesn’t have any pre-described medicine here. I know we have an additional bottle in the Batcave. I’ll go retrieve it, Master Bruce.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, aware he won’t receive one and goes to the Batcave where the last batch of medicine is being secured.

Alfred vividly remembers how Master Tim’s first recovery went after they found him. From Master Tim hiding behind Junior and letting him have control, to slowly learning how to be himself once again, to gaining full charge over his mind and body.

It took many long and dreadful months where Master Bruce learned to embrace his role as a guardian, as someone who cares, since Master Tim’s parents were unreachable. Irresponsible, really.

In the beginning, Master Bruce left a lot of responsibilities about Master Tim to Mistress Barbara and she did her best to visit Master Tim as often as she could. Her presence and mind were great healing factors.

…He avoids thinking of Master Dick.

Then Mistress Barbara had an accident with a group of remaining Joker’s goons and got paralysed from her waist down.

Instead of that being a breaking point, it became a turning point for Master Bruce.

He managed to get hold of most of his guilt for what happened to Master Tim and with surprising patience he started actively helping him. He daily spent time sitting by Master Tim’s side and actually listened and talked to him. Master Bruce was there to soothe Master Tim's nightmares and grounded him in the middle of crazed fits and flashbacks.

It had obvious positive effects on Master Tim and the speed of his recovery shot up not long after that.

To see him in this state once again… the grief is overwhelming.

———

Cass doesn’t want to see what’s about to happen. Maybe it’s a selfish decision but Cass does think that Tim would not appreciate an audience in the state he is currently in.

Looking at Tim, she can’t help but feel sad. Her heart hurts for him. Hearing Tim uncontrollably laugh and uncomprehendingly look at Bruce, who tries his best to calmly talk to him, is hard.

Cass saw victims of Joker Toxin before and this situation is unconventional.

Giggling lightly with a crazed edge, Tim turns to stare at her with shifty eyes, no recognition in them is to be found. Cass tries to smile but fails horribly. Tim tilts his head in consideration and blinks slowly.

This is not Tim.

Enough. She had enough.

Alfred just left the room, so Cass decides to follow him. She sticks to Alfred's side and he gently smiles at her. The smile is holding too much grief.

“I hoped that Master Tim was going to avoid a recurrence like this one. Foolish wish of an old man perhaps,” Alfred says, his shoulders slumping as if he’s holding the weight of the world. “A relapse like this one, it’s bad. I hope you and your brothers won’t hold it against him.”

Cass would feel offended if she didn’t understand his concerns. She loves her brothers but they are complicated. And while she can’t speak for them, she can speak for herself. “I love my little brother no matter what.”

By Alfred's body language, he is proud and sad. Proud of her. Still very sad for Tim.

“I’m glad that he always will have someone faithful like you by his side.” Alfred - affected? no - affectionately says and opens the clocks to the Batcave.

Cass clenches her fists but stays silent. She doesn’t feel faithful at this moment. She left Tim behind. However, she swears to return and to shower Tim with all her unconditional love.

———

Medicine? Since when does Tim take any medicine?

“This is not what a normal fit looks like when someone is dosed with the Joker Toxin. Bruce, what is happening?” Dick steps forward to get closer to Bruce and Tim but Bruce stops him. Dick’s mind is in too much chaos to not obey his dad’s orders even if his energy is about to burst out of his body uncontrolled.

Tim looks horrible.

Sure, people hit by Joker Toxin laugh but they have this scared, terrified even, look in their eyes that begs for relief. However, in Tim’s… there’s nothing. Zero recognition. Only confusion and madness.

How did this come to be? Better, when did this come to be?

“When Tim was Robin, he had a bad run with Joker- “ Bruce starts to tell but Tim interrupts him with a gasp.

Dick tries to ignore the crazed look that his little brother suddenly has.

“I know. I know. I can tell the story,” Tim says with excitement like a little child that found its new special toy.

He doesn’t sound like himself. This voice is breathless after the laughing fit and chirpy in a way it never is because Tim is known as a perpetually tired insomniac who either grumbles or speaks like a high-class elite CEO which he actually is.

“Once upon a time, there was Jokester and a bird.”

What? What is he talking about? Was Dick that inattentive when Tim started as a Robin to not know about this? Was he such a terrible brother?

“Said Jokester caught the little birdie in his snare. He kept the birdie and played with him. Electric shocks to make him forget. Bleach to make him change his visage. Cuts to test his resilience.”

Dick feels blood retreating from his head and lightheaded vertigo swallows him.  

He swore he would never allow anything like what happened to Jaybird to happen again. So why? Why can he add another failure to hang on his conscience?

“And slowly, very slowly, the birdie lost his feathers and made daddy and mommy proud,” Tim says with playful sadness in his tone, seemingly ignoring the horrified looks he’s getting.

Dick feels sick.

“Joker Junior, they called him. JayJay, they affectionately said. Sonny, they ordered him.”

He’s sick that Tim has to go through something like this. Is the Robin mantle cursed?

Dick’s hands shake, small tremors run through his body. He takes a step back next to Damian, trying to distance himself from the scene in front of him.

The guilt is devouring his inner core. His chest is tight.

He swore to never lose another brother after what happened to Jaybird. Yet here he is, standing in front of another brother he failed, not even knowing about it till this moment.

———

“Luckily for the little birdie, papa Batsy was frantic in his search. With girly Batty, they found their lost bird,” Timothy continues telling his story with sick dramatics.

Girly Batty. Cassandra or Stephanie? No, probably Barbara before her injury.

Damian’s not aware that he’s reached for Dick. He will deny if asked that he grabbed Dick’s shirt like a scared child. That the hand that Dick put on his head calmed him.

Damian saw many people go mad when he was living with his mother. Some people break under enough strain put on them. They served as a warning for him.

However, begrudgingly presumed, Timothy is not weak-minded.

And living in Gotham? That’s a special kind of crazy that makes you cope in weird ways.

But for the first time, Damian feels more than discomfort or annoyance while being in the presence of one such person.

There is a fear. Specifically fear for Timothy.

“But they came late.” Timothy sighs in a lamenting voice, shaking his head. Damian wonders if Timothy’s aware he’s still smiling. “The feathers have been burned off away. And a new weapon was given to it instead of flight.”

Damian hates this. He hates this so much it makes him angry. Not scared, because he’s never scared. Especially for Drake.

So he does what his mother taught him. He closes off his emotions and lets the void of apathy take over.

———

“Bang. Bang. The weapon did.”

Jason flinches so hard, he could compare it to an electric shock. No. No. Not that.

Baby Bird giggles at his reaction. As if it’s funny that Jason feels like a gutted fish.

His breaths are getting too shallow and his vision is for once whitening instead of greening. Thought, he would rather welcome rage instead of this undulating panic.

“At Batsy, the weapon was aimed. ‘Make daddy proud! Now this is a punchline!’ A choice was to be made. Click, the button did. Bang, the weapon played.”

Bang.

Bang. Bang.

“Jokester's breath was taken away. ‘That’s not funny’ he said at last, cause death he was, afterwards.”

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Tim. Little Timmy killed him.

BangBangBangBang.

How young was he when Replacement pulled the trigger and did what Jason dreamed of doing since he dragged himself out of that rage-inducing pit?

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.  Thunk.

As the crowbar hits his flesh. As the bruises bloody and bones break.

That damn laughing. That fucking mocking sound.

Tick - Tock - Tick - Tock.

Tick - Tock.

The time’s up.

He lost some time.

Jason doesn’t stay to see Bruce hug Baby Bird. He exits the room, ignoring Dick’s reaching arm and Damian’s empty stare following him. He doesn’t even notice Cass and Alfie once again returning to the room.

Outside, he manages a few steps before he needs to support himself on the wall and even then his knees bend and he slides with a gentle ‘thud’ to the ground.

Clenching his fist around the collar of his shirt, Jason forces breaths in and out, just like how Roy and Kori do with him during his panic attacks and Pit Rage fits.

No more dead Robins. But Timbers spent months captured in the hands of that monster. Jason can’t even begin to imagine what experience that must have been like. Few hours were enough to rate that experience zero starts.

All the taunting that Jason did to Replacement. All the blame he threw on people around him. All those raging fits, triggered by the family that still wants him.

All of that to hurt others. And now Jason heard this story. A crazy ballad spoken by a cracked ex-Robin.

A bile rises up his throat and Jason leans heavily on the wall, keeping angry tears at bay.

He doesn’t know what to do, what to think now.

———

Barbara watches Bruce and the rest of the self-proclaimed Batfam leave the Batcave without a word to her, to get to Tim as Alfred worryingly shares the news and she’s consumed by her uselessness. She’s still in her Watchtower, anchored in her wheelchair.

Leaning back into Oracle's mindset, she hacks into the cameras in the corridors but doesn’t have any visual of what is happening in the room. Choosing Bruce's phone, she hacks into it too and listens to what is happening.

Following their path where she can, Barbara swallows her frustration and watches the Wayne family disappear into Tim’s room. Only B’s phone microphone serves as a connection to the situation happening.

The laughter filling her speakers is slowly getting louder and chills her.

“Tim, you need to breathe. Listen to me. You are Tim Drake-Wayne—“

Once, Babs was there for the little Timmy. Even when he was broken, she found herself to care for him.

She remembers the frantic month, as she and Bruce searched for Tim. Minimum traces and zero hints about where he could be. They almost declared him dead when Harley suddenly turned up with a piece of precious news about the little bird.

“Said Jokester caught the little birdie in his snare. He kept the birdie and played with him. Electric shocks to—“

Listening to Harley as she spoke of what Tim went through was revolting and nauseous and even today, Barbara remembers the feeling of desperation fuelling the adrenaline coursing through her body.

To get there in time. To save him. To help him. To keep him safe.

“But they came late—“

Being held off by some Joker’s goons, Babs came in the aftermath.

“Bang. Bang. The weapon did—“

A laughing crying Tim dressed in a parody of a Joker costume.  

Bruce standing there and doing nothing.  

Joker’s body lying on the ground, a rod with a flag sticking out of his chest.

“And the little birdie was free again. His feathers had grown back with strength. A flight he could take off with a rein. Alone, he was not, but happy that was.”

Being by Tim’s side, she created a special bond with him and that went even with Junior. When Junior was with her, Barbara told him stories about adventures she went through with Teen Titans. When Tim was the one more aware, she taught him about technology and searching and fighting patterns and he took to it like a duck to a water. The logic of it seemed to ground him.

Then her injury happened and her wings were forcefully clipped off. No more flying. No more sky. No more freedom. She couldn’t focus on Tim then, only on herself.

Barbara remembers the rage and bitterness she felt. Bitterness at her predicament. Rage at people around her.

At that time, Dick was gone. At that time, he still didn’t want to get to know Tim properly and spent most of his time at Outworld missions or Blüdhaven.

Jason was gone gone.

Alfred tried as ever to be a stable support but some barriers are hard to climb over.

At least Bruce got his shit together.

Looking back their support system was so small. Once Tim got in contact with capes from outside of Gotham, it started to grow. Tim was always good at creating new contacts and moreover, he’s not afraid to talk Bruce into submission about socialising. He brought Steph into their lives and accepted Cass with open arms the quickest.

When Tim cut off all communications after Bruce disappeared into the Timestream and travelled around the world getting evidence… Barbara was genuinely shocked and nervous and especially disappointed. Tim is her little brother and he didn’t even try to consult with her about his ideas.

Babs made sure after his return that she was always there for him. She takes out her phone and messages Helena, asking for a ride.

Turning her attention to the PC screen before her, Barbara watches as Jason enters the corridor and goes through his undoubtedly panic attack. She leans back into her wheelchair and closes her eyes.

“I found his pills.”

With a heavy heart, Oracle wishes that some things could remain a secret from her while others would come up much sooner to the surface.

Chapter Text

Steph may not be as smart as Tim is, almost nobody is anyway, but that doesn’t mean she’s dumb or unobservant. She’s been vigilante for some time now and is still breathing even if many baddies probably wish she’d stop.

When she first met Tim, they were on their respective patrols as Robin and Spoiler and the first impression ended up with Robin getting hit by a brick to his face and Steph being unmasked.

What a fun time that was.

A few family matters later. A few cases later. A few dates and painful personal issues later and she finally found out his secret identity from B. Tim was not amused in the slightest but at least Steph was done with her frustration and unsuccessful stalking. She’ll never reach Tim’s level of invasive and she found her peace with it.

Yet, even after many betrayals, trust issues and romantic complications, they ended up hanging out as good friends.

During all that time, Steph saw some stuff centred around Tim that concerned her.

First, there were the rhymes.

Steph initially thought it could be a weird quirk of his but it showed up too irregularly. And not only that but Tim’s whole mannerisms changed too. His smirk was sharper, his gestures were wider. His tone held mischief and a bit of cruelness. The regular cool and collected behaviour was nowhere to be found.

The change happened at the speed of a snapping finger. The change never lingered for more than a few minutes too.

*

“Hey, Spoilsport, throw me that bag or we’ll go bad,” Robin says as he dodges a punch in the middle of a fight with robots in an alley.

“Stop calling me Spoilsport. It’s Spoiler and you know it!” Steph jumps on fire-exit stairs to avoid getting cut by a fricking blood-sucking sword. Who thought it was a good weapon choice for a robot?!

She does as asked and throws the bag they had once again acquired from the enemy’s hands to Robin.

Robin catches it and starts rummaging through it. He pulls out a typical-looking villain control button and pushes it. “Nah, you ruin the fun part of doing crime. That makes you Spoilsport.”  

“I mean, yeah, but it’s still just Spoiler, not Spoilsport,” Steph says as she watches all of their robotic enemies halt in movement.

“You’re acting so tight. Go fight some more night crime. Maybe chill you’ll find out.”

Once again, Steph looks at Robin and how he’s sitting and tapping his leg in an unheard rhythm. The restlessness is unusual.

How he smiles at her.

“…You’re not Robin.”

“I think I am, though,” Not-Robin answers with a defensive tone lurking behind his smile.

“Are you his alter? Like, do you suffer DID?”

“Huh? What does that mean? Daddy’s irreversible damage? Dealer’s irresistible drug?”

“No… it’s a mental health diagnosis called dissociative identity disorder. People have split personalities and sometimes they take the lead over the body. But the original personality loses some time and memories when others are in the front. I read about that in one magazine.”

“Then that’s not it. I remember everything perfectly well.” Steph startles before relaxing, realizing her Robin is back.

“You’re a weirdo.”

“And yet, you continue to hang out with me.”

They leave it at that.

*

They’re been dealing with Scarecrow’s toxin victims for a good hour now, trying to administer antidotes or at least get people to ambulances. Steph wishes to take off for a main fight but Robin has been keeping her occupied with rescuing tasks.

Steph is thinking about finally getting away when Robin speaks up, “We have fears and peers. All that remains is Scarecrow’s grief.”

Not-Robin is back. It’s been a while since Steph last saw him.

“Let’s shift the gears and soon we’ll cheer.”

Fighting. Finally.

“Why do you speak like that?” Steph asks once when her curiosity can no longer be ignored.

“Like what?” Not-Robin starts to climb on the roof.

“You know, like, moon spoon. Free, flee. This type of speech.“

“I just like speaking that way. Makes more sense of the day.”

Steph still doesn’t understand that one. Why would rhymes make more sense? It sounds like something Joker would say.

After that, she decided to dub this weird Robin, the Rhyme-Robin.

*

Then there were the unhinged riddles.

*

“Do you know what’s so strong that no matter what the weight of your life was, it’s going to hold you up?” Rhyme-Robin’s voice sounds out from the back of the warehouse they’re investigating.

“I don’t know. Love? Family? Could be Therapy?” Steph, bored out of her mind, peaks inside a crate full of red and green silky clothes.

“Yes. Yes. Maybe. And also that thick rope holding the body of our suspected smuggler up from the collar beam.”

With an instant alarm, Steph looks up to where is Rhyme-Robin pointing his gloved finger.

From the ceiling, the body of a man hangs silently. “Fuck!” Steph gives Rhyme-Robin a disbelieving stare. “How could you even make a joke about something like this.” Even as she says that she thinks of all her dark jokes. She does not have much ground to stand on. But this is coming out of Robin’s mount.

Rhyme-Robin just shrugs and a moment later, Robin is asking her for help with collecting evidence and getting the body down.

*

“One knife stab plus one knife stab equals what?”

Tying the hands of an unconscious mugger, Steph thoughtlessly answers, “Two knife stabs?“

The sudden giggles behind her make her freeze. “An almost dead civilian. You need to keep up, Spoilier, or there won’t be an almost next time I ask you this.”

“Fucking- it’s Batgirl now too. Stop deforming my name.“ Steph taps her comm twice. “Goddess, you hear this? Thanks. Weirdo, Oracle’s calling the ambulance.”

*

“What would you call the corpse of a dead bird?” Rhyme-Robin stares at the remains of the half-eaten animal lying on the dirty ground of an alleyway.

Steph is mostly used to this by now but it’s still creepy. “What?” she warily asks.

“My predecessor.“ Rhyme-Robin snickers.

“You know, I don’t really judge people,” Rhyme-Robin tills his head and his amusement at that statement is clear even through his domino mask, “But what you’re saying is rather fucked up.”

Rhyme-Robin giggles lightly. “So I’ve been told.”

By who? Steph doesn’t ask. Robin never tells her anything anyway.

*

And finally, the most chilling one was the laughing fit during patrol.

Steph witnessed it only once and for a short moment but even then the memory of it is seared into her mind.

*

Steph is occupied by choking a knife-guy in unconsciousness when she hears the scream. Immediately whirling around, she sees Robin trashing on the ground while being connected to a sparkling rod held by an enemy.

Just how many volts is that?!

Not wasting more time, Steph throws a batarang at the man above Robin and it hits his shoulder, causing him to release the weapon.

Running to them, Steph picks up a brick and smashes it into the enemy’s face. The resulting snapping sound is satisfying.

The man falls unconscious on the ground. That clears the battleground. Steph returns to where Robin is lying on his left side, shaking slightly.

“Robs! Are you okay?” She kneels by Robin and worriedly scrutinises for any outward damage. Electric shocks are the worst.

Robin turns on his back and Steph stares at his masked face. He’s laughing. For a moment, it’s the silent kind but quickly it turns into a full-out stomach-laughing burst.

Was he injected with Joker’s Toxin?

She starts grabbing for an antidote but Robin’s shaking hand halts hers. “Nothing, nothing wrong with me, just a little wind up here,” he says with harsh breath and continues laughing.

Rhyme-Robin.

“You don’t seem fine to me,” Steph says.

Rhyme-Robin tries to take a deep breath but fails to do so. Even with the domino mask in place, Steph can read trepidation from his expression. “I need- to stop. Else, bad, worst, worse can happen.”

Stop the laughing.

Now that Steph thinks about it, neither Robins ever laughed like that. Small chuckles or giggles? Sure. But usually it’s a smirk that graces Robin’s lips to show his amusement.

Steph clenches and relaxes her fist and reaches out to touch Rhyme-Robin’s shoulder.

Leaning down, Steph plants a kiss on his forehead. She hears his breath hitch and the laughter quiets down. Rhyme-Robin looks at her with adoration colouring his smile. “You’re so sweet to me, Spoilgirl.”

“It’s Batgirl, you weirdo.” Taking that as a green light to touch, Steph tightly embraces him.

Once Robin returns… he actually cries.

“Please, Batgirl, Steph, please. Keep quiet about this,” he begs.

Steph bites her lips and swallows around the dryness in her throat. “Sure, Robbie.”

For once in her life, Steph keeps her curiosity at bay and doesn’t ask or needle for any information, only keeps hugging Robin.

*

Steph got used to Rhyme-Robin’s appearances. He never tried to hurt her and he could be fun to be around sometimes even.

If only he toned down the morbid riddles. She can never get them right.

———

Duke isn’t particularly close to Tim.

Where Duke is too polite, Tim is closed off. Where Duke respects boundaries, Tim has no problem stalking you till all your secrets are his new hidden cards that can be used against you as Signal learned on a rare night patrol when Red Robin got some reoccurring criminal into begging for mercy only by speaking about tulips and daisies. To this day, whatever was that supposed to mean, Duke has zero idea.

To say Duke is not secretly intimidated by Tim would be a lie. Even Batman and Robin are not that scary and one of them is a terrifying urban legend cryptid and the other is a feral stabby child.

But Tim smiles with his fake mask and his eyes tell you to be careful about what you’re saying or doing in his presence. They’re light up with danger. They scream like the ones of a hungry predator. Not many people see it as Duke does, he learned.

Then there’s also that one unexplained exchange that happened between them a week after Alfred’s birthday.

*

Duke managed to convince his cousin to stay the night with Wayne's family. He’s not allowed to go on a patrol since he’s still healing his broken ribs but at least he’s not under the oppressive control of his cousin. He may mean well but a little part of Duke misses the freedom he had while he was searching for his parents.

It’s around one in the morning and Duke enters the kitchen with a yawn. He taps his fingers in an irregular rhythm while he’s trying to think of what tea he wants to drink.

Choosing herbal tea, he boils the water and pours it into his Robin cup. He sets a timer for up to fifteen minutes of brewing.

Behind him, someone hums a melody into the beats his tapping fingers make.

Wait… what?

Duke startles so badly that he instinctively uses his Ghost Vision to perceive future threats, only to see Tim sit by the table and drink coffee.

Embarrassingly, that’s exactly what is happening right now. Duke’s so glad for his dark complexion that hides his rising blush.

“You don’t have to puff out so defensively. I’m not gonna eat ya’. Even if it is the right time for a midnight snack,” Tim says with such a wide smile it drips with mirthfulness.

Wait.

Tim doesn’t do a ‘ wide smile ’ thing unless it’s for the public. It’s as if Bruce smiled because Damian said he loved them all. Absolutely unthinkable reality.

“Are you feeling okay?” Duke asks, forcing his tense back to relax.  

Tim blinks and Duke thinks that this is the equivalent of a surprised gasp from other people. “Of course I’m fine. Dandy even. Brilliant just like the stars in the sky.”

Duke doesn’t have to look outside the window to know there are no stars visible. “We live in Gotham.”

Looking Duke unblinking right in the eyes, Tim hums, “Yes, we do.”

They stay in a silence for few more moments. Duke can’t fault himself for starting his absorption shadow abilities as a precaution when he asks, “Who are you? You’re not Tim.”

No illusions are being cast. His meta ability should see through that but maybe some type of shapeshifting is at play.

“Ding. Ding. Five points for transferable Light bulb. You’ve officially entered the game of ‘You’re Right, Buddy’. I’m Junior. Even if I am Tim, kinda.”

“Junior?” Duke intones in confusion.

“Joker Junior! The one and only. A pleasure to meet you.” He- Junior nods his head but his eyes don’t leave Duke’s.

Duke’s breathing hitches. Joker. Joker Junior. A child of that that —

He and his parents are being held in front of Batman by Joker's wannabe. Joker Toxin. His parents' disappearance.

Duke attacks.

While he pulls the shadows to himself, the surroundings around him light up with the lack of dark colours to absorb them, blinding his opponent.

“Hold your horses! Or is it lightnicity for you?” Junior jumps up from his chair and takes two steps back, walking into the wall.

Not wasting precious time, Duke manoeuvres his body to gain strength for his throwing fist but Junior dodges it without problem.

Duke tries to kick Junior’s side, however, Junior catches the leg and pulls it to himself, causing Duke to lose his balance and fall to the front, right into the trajectory of Junior’s attack.

Duke sees the fist coming but can’t block it in time.

What he’s not expecting is for Junior to hit Duke’s pressure points on his neck. For a second, Duke blacks out and wakes up on the floor.

One attack. That’s all it took Junior to incapacitate Duke. Blinking, he tries to move his body but the nerves don’t listen to his brain. He takes shallow breaths but it does nothing to calm him down.

Junior kneels next to Duke’s head and gazes him in the eyes. There is visible excitement dancing in them. “Listen, listen young child. Some people are friends on sight. Like me, you see! I bring the best of Timmy’s sanity and he keeps mine clear.”

So, he is Tim? But he is also Joker Junior? This situation makes zero sense.

“I won’t hurt ya’, understand?” Junior says soothingly.

Duke feels like a mouse in a cat's jaw. He swallows hard and whispers, “Okay.”

“Goodie good.” Junior pats him on the head and swiftly hits the pressure points on the rest of his body that are keeping Duke stunned. Duke relishes in the renewed muscle control.

Duke slowly stands up and Junior is watching him like a hawk. Duke tries to calculate how he can overwhelm his opponent. He should attack. What if this thing in Tim’s body is really dangerous?

Joker Junior.

But… Junior wasn’t the one to start an offence. He was only in defence and then made a harmless move to stop Duke from attacking him again.

Watching Junior drink the rest of the coffee, Duke tries to calm his racing heart.

Sure, Tim is Junior and Junior is Tim. Whatever. He should be used to crazy stuff happening.

“What are you doing here anyway?” Duke asks and massages the spot on his neck that still sends throbbing headaches to his temples. “And sorry for, uhm, attacking you.” Wow, he really acted before thinking. After his Cursed Wheel training, he thought he learned how to look deeper into things.

…Who is he kidding, it just made him more paranoid and cautious.

“It’s fine, little wine. I got benched until Tim’s fully in control. What a drag. However, I still plan to meet with Spoiler-Alert. She’s always fun to be around.” Junior shrugs.

That sounds like at least Steph is aware of Junior’s existence. Duke bites his tongue but still ends up saying, “I don’t think it’s wise to let Joker’s Junior run around.”

“I gotta tell you. I am waaaaaay more stable than I used to be and definitely more than my Daddy ever was,” Junior says but the statement is undermined by his giggles. “Anyway, I’m gonna hit a sack. Mr. Butler is in the Batcave, saving brain cells. Bye-bye, Light bulb.”

And with that Junior leaves the kitchen.

Duke’s timer for tea sets off and scares him into flinching.

Herbal tea. Right. Hopefully, it’ll calm him enough to sleep and in the morning he wants some proper answers.