Chapter Text
He’s behind me, Red Hood grimaced as he ran. Batman.
After everything he’d tried to accomplish—everyone he’d tried to save; it was all for nothing.
“Enough, Red Hood.” The deep voice echoed through the factory.
Red Hood couldn’t help but laugh when he was cornered at the railing. That’s when everything fell apart. Right?
Or did he just fall? Or did Batman push him?
But does it matter?
His wife and unborn child don’t matter anymore. The fact that he was dropped into acid and now looks like a monster doesn’t matter anymore.
The only thing that matters now is to destroy Batman. Not kill him, but tear him down. Rip him apart from the inside.
Why?
That doesn’t matter either.
An infinite abyss surrounds him. Heavy irons hang him from… some kind of ceiling that can’t be seen. There’s an endless pit of blood below. Then a spotlight illuminates the area about a meter ahead.
And him.
He steps forward, a crowbar in hand.
“Which hurts more? Forehand? Or backhand?”
He swings the crowbar.
Jason jolts awake. He’s sweaty and shaking and the green is swarming over his vision.
I’m fine. I’m safe. I’m in the manor. That was five years ago.
He takes deep, rattling breaths. But just in case, he checks himself over. No wounds. Nothing hurts. He is fine and he is safe. It was just a dream.
The Joker is in Arkham.
Jason grits his teeth. The Joker is in Arkham—not dead. He tightens his fists, scrunching up the sheets of his bed as he does so. The Joker is not dead. He is in Arkham: a place he has broken out of countless times before.
The only reason he isn’t dead already is because whenever Jason tries to kill him, one of the bats swoops in, saves him, and takes him right back to Arkham.
Jason takes another few breaths–trying to calm down. It doesn’t help. But he knows something that will. It’s hard to calm down, but it’s safer for everyone. And now that he’s back living in the manor…
As he walks down the halls–to one of the kitchens–he can only think–no. Stop. Stop thinking.
The green comes back every time he thinks of–
Eventually, he’s in the kitchen and gets together everything he needs for a hamburger. Some ground beef and onions for the patty. Some lettuce, cheese, tomatoes.
Hey, everyone has weird coping mechanisms; this is Jason’s. (At least it’s not Bruce’s weird obsession with adopting traumatized children.)
Of course, burgers are better when cooked on a grill, but it is way too late–early; it’s two in the morning–to go out to the grill.
Once the burger is put together and Jason smothers it in an absurd amount of ketchup, he brings it to his mouth–
and is about to bite into it when he hears a scream.
Jason jumps to his feet and runs to the source–to Tim’s room.
He bursts in to find the kid thrashing in his sleep.
It’s barely a second later when he sits up, gasping.
“Timmy? You good?” Jason asks.
“I… I… I…” Tim’s breathing is quick and heavy. His hands–no his whole body is shaking.
“You’re okay, Tim.” Jason sits on the edge of Tim’s bed.
“I-I dreamed… I-I was back… J-Joker…”
Jason looks at his little brother sympathetically. So they both dreamed of the monster who ruined both their lives.
“You’re safe, Tim. You’re back at the manor.”
“H-harley… I… I was… I…”
“Shhh, baby bird. Don’t think about him.” The green tints his vision. “Come on, Timmy, let’s get a snack.”
Tim shivers, but nods.
Then they’re both in the kitchen and Jason starts making another burger. “You can have mine.”
Tim sits on the counter and starts eating. “This isn’t a snack.”
Jason shrugs. “Deal with it.”
“There’s way too much ketchup.”
“Deal with it,” he repeats.
Finally, Jason has his burger and eats. At his second bite, Tim speaks again.
“I know I’ve said this way too many times, but you’re insane with the way you eat.”
“You can never have too much ketchup.”
“Not that! You took a bite and then bit out of the other end! And you know we think it’s crazy.”
Jason shrugs his shoulders and Tim chuckles lightly.
“So, what are you doing up?”
“Well, you’re not the only one who dreams of killer clowns.”
Tim hums in response. “Ah. Two broken birdies eating burgers because of bad dreams.”
“Wow. The alliteration is impeccable,” Jason says sarcastically. “You good?”
“I think so… I just…”
“Yeah, I understand.” Jason looks down at his burger. The lettuce, he notices, is very green. As was the Joker’s hair. And… and the Pit.
“Jay?”
“Yeah?”
“I… I sometimes wish he was dead. But then I remember our code–”
“Uh-uh,” Jason interrupts. “Not our code. Bruce’s. You don’t know how many times I’ve tried to kill him but then everyone just rescues him. He has hurt us way too many times only to be locked up in Arkham again.”
Tim goes silent again.
The green is coming back. It’s bright.
“Jay? Are you okay?”
Jason looks down. At the squished burger in his hands, ketchup dripping out of the partially eaten bottom. “I’m as good as I can be.”
“Junior, why don’t you help your old man out?” Papa says.
JJ can’t help but laugh before picking up the hammer and handing it to Papa.
“That’s a good boy. And do you know what good boys get? Treats.” Papa helps JJ hold the hammer. He helps slam it down on someone’s face.
Blood splatters everywhere. But JJ doesn’t care. After all, he’s spending time with his Papa.
“Well, Junior? What do you think of your treat?”
JJ can’t answer. Strange. He knows he has a mouth. But it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t need words to tell his Papa how satisfied he is with his treat. He smiles wide.
“Thatta boy.”
He’s still smiling when he looks down at the person who they killed. The smile quickly fades.
“What’s wrong, Junior?”
The person is a child. A boy. Robin. The third one. The one also called Tim Drake.
Tim wakes up, gasping for air. This is one of the many reasons why he gets so little sleep: the nightmares.
Last week, he had another one and Jason helped him… get through it. They had hamburgers at two in the morning but neither of them was willing to open up.
Although, no one in Wayne Manor would ever mention either of their abductions by the Joker. Everyone knows that any mention of Jason’s time as Robin or his death would send him spiraling into the green, which is what he called the Pit rage. And mentioning what happened to Tim would… would not be fun.
Remembering what the Joker did to them is also a painful reminder to Bruce that he was late. Twice.
Whatever. Jason was right. They’re safe now.
Tim stretches his arms before climbing out of bed.
They’re safe and it’s up to him to ensure their safety.
He goes down to the Batcave and checks to see that the Joker is still in his cell.
“Tim? You good? You looked distant,” Bruce asks.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Tim tries to smile—a habit he has when he’s lying about his condition—but can’t. Not now.
He remembers the wide smile the Joker forced him to display.
“Are you sure about that? You look… kind of pale. Do you need to lie down? Eat something?”
Pale, huh?
Joker Junior was also pale.
He doesn’t hear what Bruce says next—only laughter.
Bruce’s face changes from concern to horror. That’s when Tim realizes that the laughter is coming from himself.
What is going on? Why am I like this? What is happening?
He struggles to stop laughing.
“What is going on in here?” Somehow Tim hears the voice from the cave’s entrance. “Is there some kind of ‘try not to laugh video’ or–” Dick cuts himself off. “Oh. Oh, Tim.”
The laughter is still forcing itself out of Tim’s lungs. He can also feel something warm and wet drip down his face. Tears?
There was once a time when it was blood.
Then he’s wrapped in arms. Dick’s arms. It’s barely a second later when it’s Bruce’s arms too.
The laughter stops. But the tears keep coming.
The Joker is out of his cell again. And Jason saw it coming. While he heard the words spread around Crime Alley, Tim apparently hacked into Arkham’s cameras and saw that he was gone and had some sort of mad fit. Thankfully, Alfred’s taking care of him, but Jason knew it would happen.
He’s told Bruce over and over and over and over and over that the Joker should be put in a grave like Jason was. And what does Bruce say each time? “No killing.” Or some version of it.
Bruce and Damian are currently looking for him while Dick had to return to Blüdhaven to assist the Titans.
Good. Less people for Jason to go through to kill the bastard who killed him.