Chapter Text
If there’s anything Tim is used to, it’s being alone. He’s known what it was like all his life, really- empty manor with only his mind as any real company. Too anxious to interact with anyone but craving attention like a starved animal. The bats were his solace, his saviours, he was never alone with them and Tim lived in a content, albeit not quite happy state, watching them from afar.
He was still alone physically, but it almost felt like he was there, in spirit. Finally part of a family.
It wasn’t perfect, but people always said ’all families have their flaws’, this was really no exception. Dick and Bruce constantly arguing, Jason, a ray of sunshine only wanting to belong, practically made for the limelight. Alfred, the silent observer, the one everyone respected, the one everyone forgot could also make mistakes.
Tim. Tim, who really didn’t belong at all, only a shadow with an overactive imagination and with no person he could call his own. Not the Drakes, trapped in a house full of treasured artifacts Tim had taken to calling their ’hoard’. Poor little Timmy, who couldn’t even be considered a treasured artifact or a princess in a castle with no one there to watch over him at all.
Little Drake junior who only ever wanted to make his parents proud.
When the Joker cut the Robin's wings, his family broke and Tim knew he could be the one to pick up the pieces, he was good at fixing things.
So Tim got a name and he was never alone again.
What did it matter if Bruce never saw Tim for Who he was? Only a way to make the hurt, hurt less, trying to feel like emptiness wasn’t an all consuming part of him. Tim’s achievements were Jason’s and Jason’s mistakes were Tim’s.
If Dick’s kindness was a product of his guilt, why should Tim care? Did he not deserve the company? Finally not solitary. If Dick looked at Tim wistfully, preoccupied with the brother he might have had, who was Tim to shy away? He was just happy Dick was looking at all.
And yet, Like a wendigo both glutinous and starved, Tim still felt alone, still wanting more. Craving warmth but thriving in an environment made of ice.
Mommy and daddy had made him feel more starved than anything, gorging him with happy words and voltaic surprises.
It was after meeting Bart, Kon and Cassie that Tim knew what he was missing. They completed each other, they were all there, not shells of people who he had seen wither before his eyes. He was never alone with them, and although he didn't voice it, the fear of being abandoned was still all too strong, they knew he liked the company.
He wasn’t really alone much after meeting them, even when there was just one person around on an entirely different side of the building he could practically feel his friends' presence.
His team were on different missions now- although noticeable their absence was not unbearable. He was used to being alone, it was his normal after all.
Tim’s normal was disrupted with a prickle in his ear and a shiver down his spine which he usually associated with a presence. Typically a welcome development but there was something distinctly wrong here. His friends knew better than to try and catch him unaware, and if tower security hadn’t picked anything up it left very little options.
The most jarring and complicated case as of late which had gotten Tim benched until further notice was the appearance of ‘Red Hood’. Being entirely cut off from the investigation had only caused the case to take up more space in Tim’s mind and although availability bias was unwelcome during investigations, it was the first thing to come to Tim’s mind when he thought ‘silent, skilled and able to override bat security’.
Thousands of different possibilities on how this could play out, if he could already feel the presence of someone else in the room with him or steadily approaching, then he only has a few seconds to make a decision. If Tim was Red Hood- homicidal with meticulous planning that could only be bat training, he would use it against another one of the flock by discreetly disabling security and ensuring no one can get in or out for the duration of his stay.
Luckily Tim is just as paranoid as Bruce and not as preoccupied so he actually has time to give depreifs to his team and brainstorm possible ‘what ifs’ as a bonding activity. For every safety measure there are at least five different things that could go wrong and Tim has thought about most of them. The plan for ‘I’m trapped alone in the tower with a (likely) murderous individual and the emergency protocol ‘no one is getting in or getting out’ is active!’ was aptly called ‘pan’. Tim just hopes they remember the debrief because he would not put it past them to forget the specifics, even if Bart was the one to give contingency plan nr. 76 it’s name.
A moment of doubt that Tim’s instincts might be wrong is all Red Hood needs to spring into action. He’s big, at least as tall as bruce and built like a bodybuilder, if Tim didn’t train with Batman he’d think no man that size could be so agile, so quiet. It’s a different kind of quiet than batman, Tim notes, and he also notes the very very short window to make the decision between dodging a bullet and sending the signal to his team.
The distress beacon lights up and Tim moves fast enough that it hits him just above the knee instead of shattering his femur. Expecting the pain does not make it hurt any less yet he manages to stay silent. His team will need to find a way to be silent getting in too, scaring Red Hood by telling him they’re aware is a great way to spook him into murdering Tim quicker.
Red Hood is probably expecting any outside help to come from the bats, he knows the team is split on different missions, he knew Tim would be alone. He was probably expecting Bruce to drop everything if there was a distress signal from Tim.
But Tim has never needed Bruce the way Bruce needed Robin.
Despite the superspeed all his teammates possess, Tim cannot be a sitting duck about to become roadkill. His injured leg is not bleeding to the point where it’s worrisome but the adrenaline is doing a rather shit job at masking the pain, and his brain- which is typically referred to as his ‘greatest weapon’ by most, seems to have fallen into a haze. His thoughts are slower than he’s used to and distantly he wonders if the bullet was coated in something. All he can really think clearly of is buying time with a distraction.
He’s saved from speaking first when Red Hood opens his mouth first.
“Looks like this little Robin left the nest too early. B’s standards have really plummeted since the second one’s death, it seems.”
The mention of Jason is more shocking than the sound of Red Hood's modulated voice, he forces himself to take in every detail at the mention of his name. It’s jarring, seeing him up close, details he read in the reports are nothing compared to the man in front of him. ‘Posture always tense and ready to fight’ doesn’t even begin to describe his form- more on the offensive, like Tim isn’t really a threat to him, like Red Hood could maul him easily and guiltlessly. Expressionless thanks to his helmet but he makes no move to hide his panting, which to Tim speaks waves of anger. Dangerous righteous anger.
A Joker fan, if the getup is anything to go by, but the bitter resentment about Jason’s death is there. He is nothing like the Joker, Tim would know, he knows better than anyone really. This is someone who knows their identities, and who hates them as much as the Joker.
Someone who, apparently, hates Tim more.
“Nothing to say? Where’s your cheer and joy? The second one had plenty before he died, you make a pretty pitiful comparison replacement.”
Tim still doesn’t speak but this time it’s because he’s seething with anger. He grits his teeth and snarls instead. Gun still facing Tim he reaches for his helmet and lets it fall. A domino mask greets him under a flurry of untamed hair, an unnatural white streak down the middle and even to the untrained eye a greenish glow can be seen through the whites of the mask.
Green?
“Trust me, I’d know all about it.”
Most would consider Tim to be a compassionate person, however, the half second his heart lurches in his chest with unidentified emotions is not enough to convince him to try and reason with a man who is clearly intent on murdering him. Jason was his Robin, but he is obviously not Robin anymore and looks like he came back to life fueled by spite and anger alone, both of which are notoriously hard to reason with.
If he were a different person, he might laugh at the irony of Red Hood, son of Batman, taking inspiration from his killer to murder Robin, son of Jo-
Tim is not a different person but he still finds it pretty funny, actually. Ironic. Ha. A giggle builds up like bubbles about to pop in his chest, his shoulders start to shake and he looks away to hide a smile behind his hand. Most would think he’s crying.
They both know better.
Jason’s face darkens somehow and the green seems to glow. Or maybe that’s just Tim staring really really hard.
“It’s funny to you? You think this is fucking funny?! You took everything from me, pretender!” Red Hood’s gun is forgotten as he slams Tim’s body against the floor. Tim’s back aches miserably and he has no choice but to look into the mask.
Red,
A distraction? His team. Yes he’s pretty distracted right now.
Green.
In a moment of perfect clarity or perhaps insanity Tim gets an idea. It’s a perfect set-up, handcrafted just for him. Jason’s death, Robin’s fall, killed by joker and coming back just like him. The Joker is probably the worst thing about Gotham, anyone would be unsettled by him. Tim wonders how scared Jason is of his killer.
Tim’s never been good at stand up comedy but the punchline for this joke is perfect.
The punchline can only land if the buildup is good so the giggles turn from quiet and secretive to obnoxious. His smile doesn’t part into a grin just yet, his lips are pressed firmly together, as if pretending it’s not him laughing at all. Jason hears it, he doesn’t flinch but he backs away towards his fallen gun, still confident. Like he could turn his back on Tim and win with ease.
If he’s uncertain, he doesn’t show it.
“Your pain tolerance is pathetic, you wouldn’t last a second with Joker,” He spits out, gun in hand aimed at Tim who found his way up to standing on his knees when Red Hood, Jason, wasn’t looking. He can’t help but really laugh at that, surprising even himself with how sudden it is, Tim really can’t help but think of how ironic this is. The joke practically wrote itself!
The pain in his knee is still sharp, he thinks he can imagine the feel of bullet digging in between his bones, he knows he won’t feel clarity until the pain is all gone.
“Jason!” Tim says, loudly, abruptly cutting through his own short bout of laughter and unable to feel guilty at the way he sees the man tense further. “Oh you look just like daddy, daddy is that you?” He lets the smile fall into a hopeful look of wonder.
”I did not hit your head that hard pretender, don’t try to bullshit me.”
Tim ignores him and presses on, really he’s trying to convince himself too, but the pain is making it too real and Junior is anything but real. Junior lives where pain meets relief, where insanity turns to clarity, where imagination and reality fuse. Junior is an in-between that requires balance between extremes, near impossible to find.
Junior is like a memory Tim isn’t sure is real. A dream that you can’t remember upon waking up, until something about the ‘real world’ reminds you.
“Isn’t it a bit bleak? Where did all the colour run of to? Looks like someplace the big bat would live, not you me and mommy,” He pouts at this and thinks of Bart's look of pure distaste at the white walls surrounding them and tries to mirror it. “Soooo much gloom and doom.”
Red Hood doesn’t dignify it with a response and charges at him again, fast as ever, gun in hand, he shoots again and Tim feels his collarbone break. Ha.
This one was a shock and it feels like one too. He knows there’s an exit wound judging from how close Hood was to him but he’s less focused on his injuries and more on the pain it left behind. It feels electric.
The pain barely has time to make itself known before leaving his body entirely. He knows this feeling all too well, it’s not hormones dulling the pain so he can fight to survive, it’s the faint tingle in his body that feels like static.
He doesn’t like junior, he doesn’t like being Junior because there’s no ’flip of a switch’ or ‘gradual slip’, he’s not a different person he’s just a version of himself conditioned to please his family. Junior pleases mommy and daddy, Timothy pleases Jack and Janet Drake, Tim- no, Robin pleases Batman. Junior is Tim just as much as Tim is Robin or Timothy and he loathes it.
Only, he needs to please Joker and Harley if he wants to make it out of this alive.
What makes the Joker such a difficult opponent, one who is equal to Batman himself? Apart from the bone deep apathy which Tim does not possess no matter what mask he wears, it’s the inability to feel pain, injury after injury he smiles and never stops. Thousands of shocks by the Joker’s hand left Junior with a strange reaction to pain. As anyone else, Tim needed pain to feel alive, to know when and where his body was failing him, but Junior isn’t real unless Tim is reminded of him and junior’s pain is just as fictional as the boy himself.
The Joker did not care for the pain he inflicted on others either. The bats focused on injuring their opponents and leaving minimal permanent injuries, attention divided amid careful offense and defending against the Joker’s every lethal move.
Junior was his father’s son, all he wanted was to make daddy proud.
Would Red Hood’s daddy be proud of him for killing the Joker’s son?
The only thing in pain now is Tim’s stomach as he’s laughing, he’s clutching it tight and he finally breaks into a smile too wide for his own face. Still on his knees he grabs the nose of Jason’s gun and brings it to his forehead, sticking it firmly in place. Jason is still, his breathing shallow- but not quite panicked, not yet. Tim laughs harder and the sound escapes his throat like it was clawing to get out, desperate to attack his attacker. The gun is still pressed to Tim’s forehead but Jason knows he’s just become the prey.
“Oh but where’s mommy? Did you kill her too? Are you here to kill me so we can all be together again?”
Family isn’t supposed to be split apart like this, if mom and dad aren’t together in life then Tim can only follow them in death.
Jason- Red Hood, is trembling now, swaying slightly and muscles seemingly growing weaker. Tim wonders what he’s thinking about. The smile? His pale skin? The blood on his hand, dripping down to his lips? Or perhaps he’s noticing how the emergency lights give the illusion that his hair is a deep glowing green.
Something is so very wrong. The disgust is so clear on Jason's face it almost hurts to look at.
“You’re not a pretender, you’re not even a cheap replica. You could never fit the Robin suit, Tim.”
If using his name is a tactic to catch him off guard it’s wholly ineffective and it only serves to brighten the stars in Tim’s eyes. He rips the gun from his face with glee and jumps behind Jason, waving it around like a flag while dismantling it.
“Timmy? Lousy little Timmy in a dead soldier’s suit?”
Jason shoots at him as soon as he sees movement, his aim isn’t off despite his panicked state but if any bullets land Tim does not take notice.
“You shouldn’t call me that, daddy doesn’t like it.” He crosses his arms and pouts, and then extends his hand in a mock handshake, “I’m Junior, but my family calls me JJ! Good ta’ meetcha boy wonder.”
Tim starts flinging the pieces of the gun at Jason's head, ducking behind a couch as cover and attempting to grab his bo staff from under it. His hand closes around the air. Oops, wrong couch.
“out of all the fucked-up kids bruce could have picked to desecrate my grave and he chooses suicidal and crazy.” Junior can tell the effect that his presence has on Jason, he knows the look in his eyes telling him the sight in front of him is nothing more than a bad memory, a dream.
After all, junior isn’t real.
“How badly did he fuck up! One robin wasn't enough?!” Jason pulls out another gun, a heavier one. But it doesn’t matter how fast he tries to act or how hard he pretends he isn’t terrified, Junior has always been faster than robin, skipping from furniture to furniture like he’s playing the floor is lava.
“Oh! Itty-bitty jay?” He asks with all the innocence of a child, swinging back and forth on the balls of his heels whenever he knows Jason can’t take the shot. “Blown so far he went up, up, and away” he stands on the tips of his toes for emphasis, reaching for something that isn’t quite there.
Whatever fear jason had promptly left his body when he heard those words, sprinting towards tim with renewed rage and knocking the boy off his toes. Junior hit the ground much more softly than Tim would have, a glint catches his eye and he springs himself upright quicker than a spring using only the tips of his fingers, snatching his staff from where it had been kicked under the furniture.
The cold metal feels too foreign in junior's hands, too light, too precise. He flings it from hand to hand before letting the end hit the floor with a loud clack. He barely registers Jason's unfocused expression, instead paying attention to the weight in his palm, the spring in his step and the sound of the metal screeching bloody murder against the hard floor, echoing on the surrounding walls.
Junior doesn’t walk like tim drake or robin, he walk like the son of Harley and Joker. Joker is a mess, but he is purposeful, taking strides like he’s sure of where his steps will leave him. Harley walks more like a puppy or a child, always a spring in her step following a false scent of innocence. Junior is both. He walks with purpose, he tells you just how much fun he’s having. He lets you know he appreciates the journey just as much as he will the destination.
He walks towards his goal, his goal of making his mommy and daddy proud!
Jason is still now, unmoving, unspeaking. Breathing laboured and eyes absent, he still stands tall but Junior’s shadow looms over him- a far larger presence. He stops in front of Him, all smiles but no laugh. What would he think? Joker, Bruce. Both so good and so bad, both family despite it all.
Junior raises his staff, ready to strike with inhuman force.
“Daddy ain’t so happy with sons who can’t follow orders” Bruce must have been so upset when Jason went to Ethiopia alone. Junior knows his daddy wasn’t proud when he failed to kill batman. Him and Jason, they’re the same. “I could make daddy proud with just one-”
BANG.