Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Look, ok, Tim didn’t mean for this to be a situation he’d be stuck in, but well, luck has never been on his side. It all started with Constantine because of course it did. Apparently, somehow, someway, someone had managed to steal the scale for the balancing of the hearts from Constantine’s collection of miscellaneous magical items. Now, normally, it wouldn’t be that big of a deal, it’s not the actual scale; that’s still in the afterlife. Constantine should’ve been able to find it easily and return it. But no, somehow, whoever took it managed to create some sort of ritual that actually just straight up connected it to the actual scale and were now using it to rig the balancing in the favor of some very not good people. 

So here Tim is, sitting here with Batman and a few other Justice League members listening to Constantine go over all of his information so they could help him track it down. Personally, Tim thinks the League members here aren’t going to be much help at all. Like what exactly is Flash, Green Arrow, and Superman even supposed to do in this situation? Even Batman won’t be much help. Wonderwoman might be able to help retrieve the artifact, but the rest of them? They don’t have very much experience with magic like this. Tim, on the other hand, could probably help quite a bit, but that would reveal one of his biggest secrets and that wouldn’t be good for anyone.

Tim tunes back into the conversation when Constantine stops talking about the artifact and the situation and possible locations. It seems Wonderwoman has a question and well, she always does ask interesting ones.

“With the scales tipped in the way of the dark, how will we return balance? Even when the scale is returned, will the balance not still need to be fixed?” She asks, and oh no, Tim’s tense now. There’s several answers to these questions of course, but one is a bit more relevant to him.

“There’s various groups already working to counterbalance that,” is Constantine’s response as he waves his hand dismissively.

Tim knows this isn’t going to be a good enough answer even before Batman opens his mouth.

“And who exactly are these other groups? And how are they helping?” Now would be a great time for some alarm to go off so there’s a distraction from this. Batman’s not going to like these groups if Constantine’s thinking about who he thinks he is.

“Why don’t we worry about that later?” Tim asks, knowing that it’s unusual for him to not want all of the information but he can’t sit here and listen to B’s response to these groups.

“Red Robin, it’s relevant information, you know better than to think we can wait until later for this,” Batman says, gruff as always. It hurts a bit to be scolded like this in front of the other members of the League.

“Ya won’t like most of them,” Constantine says with a sigh. 

Apparently that opens the floor to the others and Arrow asks, “Isn’t that why we’d need to know?” 

“I agree with Batman here,” Because of course Clark does, why wouldn’t he? “Shouldn’t we reach out and offer our help to them as well?” Oh no, that won’t end well at all. Tim’s watching his hope in Constantine not revealing this go up in flames.

“Fine,” Constantine sighs out, “There’s a few groups of people out there-nah not people, creatures fits better-they’re out there doin’ what they do best,” Dear lord why can’t he be direct enough to end Tim’s suffering already. He’s so close to just saying fuck it and telling them all himself.

“Yea? You said that? What do they do?” Flash pipes up. Kill people, Barry, they kill people. Tim’s so annoyed and so close to opening his mouth.

“They help keep the balance equal,” Constantine drawls out, “By doin’ things a much different way than we do,” Tim wants to hit his head against the wall. Please just say it already. 

“Just tell us what it is already, Constantine,” Bruce growls out. You know what? No, Tim’s gonna go back to praying John doesn’t say it. There’s no way B will understand it at all.

“They go out and kill people, hunt them down, play games with ‘em,” 

Batman lets out a deep growl at that and Tim knows exactly how he’s thinking about them. Tim knows B will hate the idea that they’re helping the balance by killing, he knows B will hate them. That’s why Tim’s worked so hard to keep them off B’s radar.

“Why would we trust them to help the balance?!” Superman lets out a shocked reply, “Wouldn’t they get more out of the balance being tipped?!”

Constantine lets out a sigh and takes a swig from his flask, “It’s called a balance for a reason, Supes.”

“We can’t stand by and let anyone just go out and kill,” is Batman’s response.

“Look, Bats, I get that it's your whole schtick to not like killin’. But the balance is a fickle thing, there has to be some good and bad to even it out,” 

Tim’s so close to just confessing everything, if only to get Batman to stop glaring at Constantine. Why couldn’t this just be a simple meeting?

“Isn’t the whole point of us to get rid of bad things?” Flash asks, sounding just as confused as everyone else looks. Wonderwoman at least looks like the concept makes sense to her.

“You can’t be considered good without somethin’ bad to compare it to,” Constantine responds, “They aren’t just some crazy humans like the guys ya fight normally, they all came into bein’ for this purpose, some of ‘em have been around for thousands of years,”

“So they are things of myths? Gods?” Now it’s Diana’s turn to ask a question. She seems curious and Tim knows that if anyone will comprehend them she would.

“Suppose ya could say that. Some of ‘em would probably count,”

Batman grunts and opens his mouth again, “So who are they then? Just because they’re gods doesn’t mean we can’t stop them,”

“Their stories are spread on the internet, called Creepypastas or somethin’ like that, I can send ya them to look over if ya really care. Don’t bother goin’ to look for ‘em to fight against, ya won’t find ‘em unless they want to be found and ya won’t win in a fight with any of ‘em,” Constantine’s not completely wrong but Tim knows for a fact he can beat a few of them in combat, it’s not like he hasn’t before.

Batman grunts in affirmation and that seems to be enough to signal the end of the meeting and dismiss everyone. Tim stalls for a moment when Constantine locks eyes with him, it seems like there’s more to be said between the two of them.

Chapter Text

“So what’s the clown bastard up to nowadays?” is what John opens the conversation with. Tim just sighs, of course he has no tact, why would he expect anything different?

“Jack’s busy doing his job, as I’m sure you know,” Tim says, rolling his eyes, “Couldn’t you have just said something else? I really don’t want to listen to Bruce’s opinions about them,”

“You think I want to listen to his complaints any more? You’re not the one he’s gonna ask how to fight ‘em,” Well, John does have a point there. As long as Tim doesn’t let on to the fact he knows more than he should, he shouldn’t have to actually answer any of Bruce’s questions or accusations.

John lights up a cigarette and Tim sighs and shakes his head. The two of them share a moment of silent companionship over the chaos that will soon follow.

“You know at least the boss man is gonna show up at some point now that they know, right?” John asks and Tim simply nods in response. It’s going to be an interesting situation for sure and neither of them are prepared for the fallout.

“I’m so fucked,” Tim says and Constantine responds with a laugh, “There’s no way he won’t recognize me and say something,”

“Yeah, kid, you’re fuckin’ doomed. Have fun with that one,” John finishes his cigarette and uses the table to put it out before tossing the butt into a nearby trash can, “See ya around, kid.” And with that John wanders out of the room, leaving Tim by himself, silently cursing about his nonexistent luck. 

He gives himself a few minutes to collect himself before setting off to catch up to Bruce and return to the cave. It seems like it’s time to prepare himself for the inevitable of his secrets coming to light. At least for now he has a movie night with Jason to look forward to.

Tim is nine when the toy appears. He has just waved his parents off as they left to go on another three month long archeological dig and wanders into the kitchen to grab a snack. It’s a little box, decorated in vibrant colors, it reminds him of the circus a little bit. His first thought is that maybe his parents had left him a gift, but that doesn’t seem right. It’s decorated with clown imagery, he notices when he gets a closer look and no one in Gotham would ever give their kid something like that. He really hopes it isn’t a trap from the Joker, that would really ruin his day. Tim spends half an hour checking all around the box, seeing if there’s anything suspicious about the outside before he goes ahead and grabs one of the emergency gas masks he keeps tucked away in his closet and a pair of rubber gloves from under the sink. At least this way if it is full of Joker Gas he won’t have to deal with getting a face full of it and if it has anything that might be absorbed through his skin he has everything covered.

Once he has his protective gear on, he reaches towards the toy. He holds it still with one hand and starts winding the handle on the side. Tim takes slow breaths to help his anxiety as the box starts playing a song, it’s one he’s heard used before in Joker traps and his anxiety increases more and more as it gets closer and closer to the lid popping open. He takes a moment before the final wind, taking a deep breath and shaking his arms to try and relieve some of his nerves. Then he goes for it.

He jumps slightly as the little clown figure pops up out of the box but calms down quickly when he sees nothing else pop out. It seems like it really is just a simple toy, how odd. It’s definitely not from his parents or Mrs. Mac. And he definitely didn’t get it himself. It seems harmless but so do a lot of things in Gotham that can cause a lot of harm. So he stands there watching the toy, waiting to see what happens.

“What’re we looking at?” He hears a scratchy high voice behind him and he jumps into action instantly, chucking the box towards where the voice originates. He goes to run but bumps into the counter in front of him and lands on the floor. The gas mask really didn’t help his sight.

“Ow! Why would you do that?!” the voice asks as Tim rips off the gas mask in a panic. He gets his first clear look at the person and of course it’s a brightly colored clown, at least it's obviously not the Joker, he would’ve gone straight for hurting him. 

“Who are you?!” Tim yells, chucking the gas mask at the clown. 

“Ow! What the hel-heck! Stop throwing things at me!” The clown responds as he bats the mask away to the ground. 

Tim scrambles up and around the counter, grabbing the nearest object he can use as a weapon and holding it out between them. It’s a wooden spoon and definitely won’t help but it does give him a sense of some false security. The clown looks at him oddly and puts his hands up, trying to seem as nonthreatening as a seven foot clown can be to a nine year old.

“Calm down, kiddo! I’m Laughing Jack, you wound up my box!” The clown smiles and holds up the box and sure that would normally be an odd thing, but this is Gotham, if a guy says he came from a box, he probably came from a box. Even if his smile is definitely faked.

“How did you get here?! Why are you here?! Do you work with the Joker?! Are you going to kill me?!” Tim rapid fires the questions out and it makes the clown buffer for a moment while he takes in the question. His smile drops a little as he thinks through the questions before answering.

“You wound up the box so I appeared! I’m here to be your new pal! Who’s this Joker fella? Do you already have a clown friend?” The fake smile comes back in full force and Tim notices that the clown didn’t answer his last question. So he’s definitely here to kill him but his confusion was very real about the Joker. At least now he knows his intent.

“Did someone send you? How are you going to kill me? Are you going to try and drop me in a vat of acid? Or try to peel my skin off? Because Joker already tried those and I doubt you could do anything worse than him!” Tim’s just running his mouth now, he meant to just ask the first question but now his thoughts are all jumbled and he’s panicking because he’s all alone and he’s always alone to deal with these things and he wishes his parents were like normal parents and he’s really freaking out and he can’t breath and oh god he’s dropped the spoon and now he’s having a panic attack on the floor. 

Laughing Jack popped next to this new kid of his thinking it’d be the same as always. A simple ‘Hi I’m Laughing Jack, your new pal’ and they’d be all good to go. Instead the kid’s standing there with yellow rubber gloves that are way too big pulled up almost all the way to his biceps and a gas mask covering his face while he just stands there looking at the box. And, ok, maybe he shouldn’t have started talking like he did, but come on watching the kid jump was hilarious. Being hit by his own box was not as hilarious. Having the mask thrown at him as well wasn’t funny either. And the kid instantly trying to run with pure terror in his eyes was unexpected. 

The kid putting the counter between them and threatening him with a spoon was also not expected but he can work with it. It’s just a kid, they’re all the same, they love bright colors and happy people and playing games. Jack’s good at this, it’s what he’s been doing for hundreds of years. He just needs him to calm down and then he can make him laugh and spend some time getting him to trust him.

Yeah, that didn’t seem to be happening anytime soon. For some reason the kid instantly thought Jack was here to kill him and he’s not wrong but it’s weird for a kid to jump to that conclusion. Whoever this Joker person is, he sounds interesting, but him targeting this kid might make this a lot harder for Jack than it normally would be.

And now the kid’s spiraling and panicking and fuck, Jack is not good at the whole comforting thing. He can try but this kid doesn’t seem to be one that’ll stop crying because he says a joke or starts to juggle. This kid seems like he’s going to be a lot of work to try and win his trust and play the game right, maybe it’d be more efficient to just take him to his circus and see what happens. But no, Jack always wins the game and he’s not going to just give up now before it’s even properly started. 

Jack skips around the counter and kneels next to the kid, pushing the wooden spoon far enough away so he can’t throw another thing at him. He still towers over the kid even while kneeling and man, isn’t this kid nine? He’s the same size as the six year old that Jack played his game with recently. Jack’s not sure what to do so slowly reaches out and pats this kid’s back, being careful to not catch his sharp claws on the kid’s shirt.

Chapter Text

Once Tim catches up to Bruce, they zeta away, back to homebase, The Batcave. Bruce storms over to the computer to go over the notes from the meeting and wait for Constantine to send more information over. Tim sighs as he watches him go, knowing that by the morning he’ll receive a message from Alfred requesting his help getting Bruce away from the screen. Tim was looking forward to having movie night with Jason and then spending tomorrow with his friends celebrating some birthday or anniversary or something, he doesn’t really know what it was but he knows he was excited to see them all again. But, it looks like he won’t get to do that because why would he? Why would Tim ever get to have time to himself? Why would Tim ever get to do things that he wants to? He should really be used to this already, it’s been years afterall, but he can’t help the sting of it.

Tim sighs quietly, feeling his energy draining already. He probably won’t even get tonight off to spend with Jason if Bruce gets the chance to speak with him. His duties always come first, even if that means extra patrols and covering for Bruce, even if that means getting Bruce to eat food and go to bed, even if that means taking the gun out of Bruce’s hands. His feelings, his wants, his needs, all come second and he knows that, has always known that. He just wishes for once it wouldn’t be proved true. 

Tim changes slowly out of his costume and into his sweatpants and shirt. The shirt was a gift from Jack, a silly shirt with some stupid pun on it, it was tradition to give one to Tim for every one of his birthdays, and the pants were a pair of Jason’s that Tim stole last time he visited. It helps ground him to the present and reminds him that he has some people that refuse to leave him all by himself ever again.

He starts walking towards the stairs and holds onto the hope that he won’t be called back to the cave later tonight or tomorrow morning. He’s not really even needed for the League’s case, he just happened to be on the Watchtower at the time and was being noisy as always. God, he wishes he hadn’t been up there, this would all be so much easier if he was clueless on this case. 

He wanders through the manor’s halls slowly as he thinks about how overwhelming it is that Bruce is looking into Jack and the other’s stories and existence. If it comes down to it and Tim has to choose between the two, he’s not sure what he’ll do. Jack’s been with him way longer than Bruce but Batman and Robin have been Tim’s purpose for so long he’s not sure who he’d even be without it. 

Tim doesn’t think he’ll run into anyone in the manor but of course the universe proves him wrong again. He never can just have some good luck for once, can he? It’s Dick because of course it is. 

“Hey Tim!” He says, “Where are you heading?!” 

All Tim can think of is how Dick thought he was crazy, how Dick took Robin from him, how Dick constantly pushes him to the side in favor of Damian, how Tim had to save Bruce because Dick wouldn’t step in. But Tim can’t say any of that. So he swallows his thoughts and feelings and replies.

“I’m heading out to grab some food and then go to Jason’s,” And oh,  maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned Jason because Dick’s smile turns pained for a moment and Tim just knows Dick is upset because he doesn’t know where Jason’s even is because Jason doesn’t want to be around Dick.

“Oh!” Dick’s smile is fake and Tim knows that, “I hope you two have fun!” No he doesn’t. If he’s not there, there’s no way it could possibly be fun or at least Tim’s sure that that’s how Dick feels.

Tim just nods and continues on his way, slipping his shoes on and walking into the world outside, ready to walk to his house and grab a few things before starting the drive into the city. At least he got out of the cave and manor before anyone could stop him.

Tim’s struggling through his breathing and the clown’s next to him and its hand is on his back. It makes him panic more but at the same time the weight of the hand rubbing circles on his back makes his breathing a bit easier and soon enough he’s not panicking anymore and instead he’s staring up at the big bright clown next to him as he wipes his tears away from his eyes. The clown looks confused and overwhelmed and oh now Tim feels bad, he shouldn’t have panicked, he’s a big boy, he can be home alone now and so he shouldn’t panic when there’s an intruder, he’s supposed to be able to stay calm. And oh no, the clown introduced himself but Tim never did and if he really did come because Tim wound up the box then that means Tim invited him into his house and should introduce himself. He’s even thrown things at the clown, he’s been such a bad host.

He does what his mother taught him, tucks all of his feelings away into a box far inside his mind, and stands up. He picks up the wooden spoon and sets it on the counter along with the rubber gloves and then turns back to the clown with his best gala smile on.

“Hello, I’m Timothy Drake. You said your name is Laughing Jack, correct? It’s nice to meet you, welcome to my house, I’m sorry for being rude earlier, I shouldn’t have,” Tim keeps smiling, even as he looks closer at the clown, it’s almost as if the colorful appearance is layered over another version of him. Every few minutes it seems to shift for a few seconds and the clown’s monochromatic instead. It's interesting and Tim wonders if that's what the clown actually looks like, because really, who would ever want to be wearing that many colors at once? Tim sticks out his hand for a shake as is the proper way of greeting others according to his parents.

“Well, hi there, Tim! It’s so nice to meet ya! I’m here to be whatever you need me to be! We’re pals now!” The clown replies, reaching out to shake his hand. Tim notices the way the clown’s fingers end in sharp points and how the clown is careful with how he holds his hand. He makes a mental note to be careful around the clown’s fingers so he doesn’t get cut, that looks like it may be painful for sure. 

The clown seems a bit thrown off by everything that has happened in the past few minutes since their interaction began and his words feel rehearsed. Though that is what Tim’s good at. If the clown is here to be “pals” as if Tim were a normal kid and the clown some sort of imaginary friend then Tim can most definitely play along. Rehearsed responses and acting the part expected of him is all Tim has really known so this should be quite easy for him.

“Well, then, do you want me to show you around the estate? Then we can play a game or something of that sort?” Tim asks and he tries to put a bit more childish tone to his words but he’s not sure that it works, he’s never had to ask someone to play a game before, he doesn’t even know how to play most games. And he definitely doesn’t want to waste his time showing this weird magical clown thing around his house when it's almost time to go out to birdwatch.

“That sounds great, kiddo!” The clown responds, it still seems put off slightly by how Tim’s responding, maybe Tim isn’t doing this right, “Maybe we could play hide and seek? That way I can learn the way around your home while we play a game? Though, when do your parents come back? I’m sure they wouldn’t want you staying up late playing games with me!” Wow, this clown definitely knows nothing about him or his family. If it’s put off by Tim’s attitude and actions so far, Tim hopes it won’t take issue with his parents being gone for the next three months. He wonders if the clown can even go and try to tell people that Tim’s all alone for months at a time. It’d be interesting to test that out.

“Mother and Father will return in exactly three months and four days,” Tim responds, he thinks that's probably an adequate response. Now for his question or well questions he supposes, “What’s hide and seek? And when do you plan on attempting to kill me and how? I’d like to prepare in case it’s a messy attempt. Mother and Father would be extremely upset if I left any sort of mess behind without cleaning it up.”

The clown’s smile starts to drop after Tim’s response about his parents and the more he speaks the less color the clown seems to have in his appearance. He’s not quite monochromatic currently but the dulled colors are much preferred to the bright ones. Maybe he should attempt to request the clown to stay away from all of the bright colors when he’s nearby. Maybe Tim should inform him that they’re in Gotham and anything with that much color tends to be a warning sign to stay away from. 

The clown looks as if it’s going to speak only to stop and then try again. It’s trying very hard to think of a response and Tim is starting to get bored and more worried that he might end up missing the bus to go birdwatching. Maybe he should just bring the clown along with him, then the clown could simply kill him in an alley and there wouldn’t be any mess for him to clean up before his parents return. Yes. That sounds like a good plan, he’ll do that.

Chapter Text

“Actually, how about instead you can come with me to go birdwatching?” Tim asks. It wouldn’t be nice to just assume the clown would want to come with him, “Then, of course, you could kill me in an alleyway and we wouldn’t need to worry about the cleanup. Though I must request that you don’t wear so many colors, it's very offputting.”

The clown, Laughing Jack, still seems quite lost on what to say in response to Tim’s many words. Tim’s used to that though, not many can keep up with him most of the time. So he stands there and stares at the clown for several minutes, watching as the clown thinks through several things. It tries to start sentences and freezes several times over the course of the few minutes before finally settling on something to say.

“Why are you parents away for so long kiddo? Where’s your babysitter? Why do you think I’d kill you? That's a silly thought! I’m here to be your friend.” The clown seems uneasy as he speaks, unsure of himself even. 

It makes sense, of course. If this is how the clown normally gets his victims then he’s definitely not prepared for someone like Tim, a child who for the most part has raised himself. A child who’s through and through a child of Gotham, who sees no issue of drinking the tap water or wandering the streets at night. He can’t even die properly, always simply coming back as most Gothamites do.

“My parents are on an archeological dig. They are always traveling for those. Babysitters are for babies and small children. I’m nine, there hasn’t been a need for one since I was seven. I am fully capable of taking care of myself,” It’s a bit disgruntling for this clown to not seem to understand that only young children need babysitters or nannies. Tim is completely responsible enough to watch over the estate on his own, “You never answered when I asked if you were here to kill me and most things that avoid that question mean to harm me so it only stands to be an answer in itself.”

This clown really is interesting. Tim wonders what it will think after it kills him once only for him to come back. Maybe the clown will want to experiment, that would be fun, Tim can only experiment with his nondeaths in so many ways and he’s curious to experience new ones. It really does have potential to be an ally.

“I see….” The colors drain out of the clown as he speaks and his smile turns into one that's much too sharp to even look humanoid. To Tim though, this is absolutely relieving. He couldn’t stand all of the colors, “Well, kiddo, I hate to end our fun so early.” 

Tim tilts his head up as the clown steps towards him, claws catching the light and reaching towards him. He doesn’t even bother to look scared, this was inevitable and Tim had realized that a while ago. The one pro, he supposes, is that it's much quicker for him to come back when he’s in his own home.

The clown hesitates for only a few moments at the nonchalance of Tim waiting for his death before it reaches out and slowly digs his claws into Tim’s gut. He follows all of the way through Tim’s small body, cracking through his spine as he pins him against the counter. The clown’s other hand slowly trails up from where the first stabbed him to the top of his chest, digging in just deep enough to separate the ribs. It pries Tim’s ribs open one by one while Tim just watches in silence. 

It's unnerving for the clown to see him not even flinch in the face of such gore and what should be pain. 

“It kind of tickles,” is what Tim says as his insides fall out of him.

The clown growls and rips his heart out, uncertain of what to do in response to Tim’s words. The world goes black for Tim and the clown is left with the now empty body.

Jack’s unnerved and very confused. None of his playmates have acted like this before. He’s not sure what to do now that his playtime has been cut so short. He normally prefers to stretch it out, make it really hurt, see how much he can do before their life leaves them. But little Timmy didn’t even react to him gutting him like a fish.