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Tim drifts, in and out of focus as if he was a camera trying to take a picture of a race car. He feels Junior on the edges of his mind, picking at his every thought and turning it into one of his own. Everything feels as if he’s experiencing it through a layer of cotton, nothing looking, sounding, or even feeling quite right. Bruce said that it was because the electricity to his brain damaged his nerves, but Tim thinks that it’s just because he’s broken.
Harley cried when Junior told her that he thought he was broken, that nobody would ever want him again because all they’re gonna see is his dad, but Mama told him that it wasn’t true, that, if Bruce ever acted like it was, she would take him in.
He doesn’t think that’s right, but Mama’s usually right, so he lets it go. He shakes his head, the two sides arguing about who he is and who everyone else is. He’s tired of feeling like he’s at war with himself. He just wants to be normal again.
Tim looks up at Harley, who must’ve come to the Manor a few minutes ago, because he doesn’t remember her being there last time he checked. Bruce has mentioned how he’s been zoning out a lot, though, so maybe that’s it. Bruce smiles at him, encouragingly, the way he does every time that Harley comes to visit. He doesn’t know why, it’s not like he’s scared of Harley or anything, but Bruce seems to think it helps, so Tim lets it be.
“We’re going out today!” Harley exclaims happily. It takes a few moments for the words to register in Tim’s brain, and a few more to come up with a proper response.
“Why?” Tim asks, confused. Harley purses her lips.
“We think that it’ll be good for you to leave the house. It’s been almost a month and Bruce knows that you feel safer with me. It will only be for a little while and we’re going to the park.” Harley explains, her words clunky and awkward, a feeling a wrongness settled in Tim’s core as he takes in her explanation. He nods, slowly. Harley pauses for a few seconds before gently grabbing his arm and leading him to where all of the shoes are. He doesn’t flinch this time when she touches him, which he thinks is good, but he can’t remember. Why do all of his memories act like they’re locked behind a door? He hates it! They’re his memories, so why are they being so difficult? He huffs as Harley gives him a pair of shoes to slide on his feet, comfortable ones, Tim remarks to himself.
Harley says something more, but even with his hearing aids, the words never process in his brain. He remembers Bruce saying something about not being present, about being a ‘shell’, as he called it. Tim doesn’t understand what that means, but he thinks that Bruce was talking about him. Sometimes, they talk about him as if he isn’t there, and it irks him but he doesn’t know what to do about it.
He’s sitting in a car. How did he get there? Gentle music is floating through the air, pleasurable against his still-irritated ears. They feel staticky sometimes. He doesn’t know how to explain it, but they feel fuzzy except they hurt when he touches them, which he doesn’t like. Others don’t seem to understand that, though, and they only seem to get annoyed when Tim tries to tell them that it hurts. There’s always someone yelling, though, and he can’t usually tell if it’s him or someone else.
Harley says something, but Tim doesn’t catch it, so he tries to listen in on her soft conversation.
“I’ve been thinking about everything that happened, y'know? Despite me bein’ the one with the PHD, Ivy’s been helpin’ me through it a lot. I think she’s glad that I’m finally free from him,” she says the pronoun with such distaste that Tim can only imagine she’s talking about the Joker, “even if it happened the way it did. Bruce said you’ve been pretty out of it. I can see what he means. You don’t seem quite like yourself, either of them. It doesn’t matter, though. No matter how long it takes for ya’ to feel better, I’ll be here to take you out on fun little adventures. I think today we should see how many plants we can mis-name before Ivy gets mad,” she teases. Tim doesn’t think that’s a good idea, but his mouth doesn’t seem to be working. That’s irritating, he thinks to himself. Talking is pretty important.
Tim merely sighs in response, but he thinks that Harley got the gist of what he’s trying to say.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re right, that’s probably a bad idea,” she sighs, waving him off without dismissing his input. Tim finds it odd how she always seems to know what he’s thinking, but he liked it. It makes him feel cared for, having someone who knows how to read his body language. His mind wanders again, even if Harley continues to talk and the music continues to drift, his mint disconnects from his body in an odd way. He hasn’t quite gotten used to that, but he thinks he will at some point, especially with how often it happens.
Tim comes back to himself, this time surrounded by trees, the cheerful green-ness of them slightly warding away the fog that envelops his brain. Healy offers him a snack, a small box of apples that are cut the way he likes them to be. He doesn’t know if it was Harley or Alfred who provided them, but he’s grateful nonetheless.
Tim finally looks up at her, his vision clearing for the first time in what feels like forever. Harley’s words stutter to a stop and he retains eye contact with her. She smiles shyly.
“You’re back.” She states, and he can only assume that she means that his entire being has returned back to startling clarity. It hurts, being able to hear and feel and see so many things at once. It only lasts for a few seconds though, before returning back to his body’s usual state of dull absentness. Harley’s smile turns to a frown, and he can’t help but think that he’s the reason for it, even if he can’t remember why.
Mama likes when he’s present, he gathers. She likes when his vision clears and the fog lifts. He just wants Mama to be happy; she deserves it, so maybe he can try to fight the fog, if only just for her. Junior thinks that it can’t be too hard.