#i think the psychology of batman of bruce after jasons death is something so very often simplified | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

why-this-kolaveri-machi · 3 years ago

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it’s a fucking metaphor!

Titans 3.08

i’ve finally gathered the mental and emotional resources to do this thing, so let’s go! as always, i’m typing this up as i see the episode.

SPOILERS AHEAD

1. on watching this opening scene, i was thinking back to how gar was in s1, or even the early bits of s2. the way he idolised the others, particularly dick, and his readiness to go along with whatever they said, and the way he practically bled the need for acceptance. and here he is now, openly defying dick, fully open to and aware of the flaws of the people he loves and admires, knowing he is accepted no matter what and extending that generosity elsewhere. it’s a remarkable bit of character growth that’s... sort of blossomed in the background and so rewarding to see and acknowledge.

1.25. i guess what i really love about this conflict over how to respond to jason--as clumsily as it is sometimes written--is how their histories and individual traumas inform each character’s reaction. dick is torn between his guilt over what’s become of jason and his drive to do what batman had essentially given up on doing: he is motivated to track down red hood at all costs but there’s a sense that he’s not completely sold on the idea that the only way to stop him is to kill him. (he might go the comics route and try to put him in arkham? god, imagine if the season ended with jason in arkham.) kory’s never had much of a connection with jason in the first place, and jason has done one of the worst things he could do in her book: track and kill a member of her newfound family and is threatening to kill more.

and gar... sure. look. the idea of jason and red hood as separate entities appeals to him; that red hood emerged when jason was drugged to the gills by scarecrow and lost his usual inhibitions. gar’s struggled with what he becomes when he’s pushed to his limits, too--he did rip open that experimenting scientist with his teeth way back in 1.07, after all, and he was brainwashed by cadmus in s2 into becoming a literal monster. he needs to think, to know, there’s a dichotomy, a line that can only be crossed under extreme duress or by outside influence.

and he says--and we say--that he was accepted back into the titans in spite of what he’d done, but was he really? gar’s always struggled with his footing in this group; relegated to the caretaker, the tech guy, the gatekeeper, and sometimes punching bag even though everybody’s paying lip service to how much of a family they all are. perhaps gar reaching out to jason and offering acceptance is aspirational on his part: perhaps this is the effort he hoped the titans put/or will put into getting gar back, even when it would seem like he’s too far gone.

1.5. anyway my point is that i don’t think it’s worth discussing this in terms of right/wrong decisions because all of their reactions make a lot of sense given their backgrounds/personalities. gar is doing a fine job here of tracking down jason’s friends and trying to find him that way, but we the audience know that jason is ultimately going to end up an anti-hero/eventually-hero character, so with that knowledge in mind we know that gar’s reaction is the right one. it’s knowledge that the other characters don’t have, so to judge them on it is... uh, unfair.

1.8. also, molly is awesome, yay!

2. dick and barbara flirting over the phone is so cute! i love to see this side of dick: lighter, peppier, willing (even if somewhat reluctantly) to put his mission aside to go out on a date with his girlfriend. and i love how easy this makes his dynamic with kory too: it’s all very domestic and utterly delightful.

(also, re: the water leak in barbara’s office--you’re saying GCPD could afford fancy-schmancy table-wide touch screen computers and evil-lair lighting but needs its frickin’ commissioner to catch leaking water from above her desk with mugs and fishbowls????)

2.2225. this is probably a teeny tiny thing and i’m not sure i want to bring it up at all BUT. the fact that dick feels compelled to lie to barbara about not liking fancy gala food and eating something more substantial before the date? not a terribly great sign, though i wouldn’t call it a red flag per se.

“this from a man who forced his students to eat cauliflower crust pizza...”

3. so.... conner and kom are a Thing. huh.

in theory i really like the idea of them bonding over an innate alien-ness and longing for a place they could really belong. both of them are alien twice-over: conner a mix of kryptonian and human, practically generated in a test tube, and kom being somebody that was born different and rejected by her own people, now stuck on a planet dominated by an entirely different species. i even like them exploring this bond physically. i guess it’s the sense of... uneasiness around what we do and don’t know about kom that makes this scene land slightly left of centre to me. i think titans, especially through s2, has cultivated in its audience a sense of distrust even until the final episode, just in case somebody vital to the season is suddenly revealed to have had ulterior motives (i’m even low-key suspicious of leslie). i really want to see this kom-conner dynamic play out but the anticipation of watching the other shoe drop is sucking out the enjoyment.

4. for fuck’s sake dick, gar’s not your gatekeeper.

TIIIIIIIIMMMMM \O/

4.5. i love this nod to tim’s origins in the comics, the way he just comes in and lays out all his evidence and makes it clear to dick that he needs tim’s help as robin. the fact that he was there at the flying graysons’ last performance, he was obsessed with their acrobatic moves, and was observant enough to connect those moves with that of robin and later nightwing... all of this came together to put him where he is right now.

(i also love how he can’t contain his giddy excitement when talking about the day dick grayson’s parents died... to dick grayson. even if dick weren’t nightwing, that would be a deeply uncomfortable thing! yet tim can’t help himself, and i love him for it.)

4.8. it’s a testament to how much dick’s caught off-guard that he can’t come up with a better response to tim’s allegations other than “uh... he stole my moves! as you know, no two gymnasts in the world are allowed to do the same moves. now, let me escort you out while pretending poorly that i’m not at all shaken by this...”

4.9. i’ve talked about this before, but i find the logic around secret identities in this universe utterly fascinating. the titans don’t make much effort in keeping their identities secret: everybody seems to know that kory is starfire for instance, or that gar is beast boy. dick grayson is seen hanging out with kory a lot, especially at crime scenes. it won’t take a lot of sleuthing to find out that the titans are currently camped out at wayne manor, and to put two and two together.

my theory was that superheroes and villains have become such an integral part of daily society that it’s almost not worth it to seek out their secret identities, or that it’s just not a big deal anymore. like politicians or diplomats, not everybody bothers to look into who exactly their local politician is, but the people who know just... know. it’s a sort of unspoken social contract.

tim’s broken this contract by confronting dick about his identity, and dick’s not ready to deal with it. not entirely.

look at him! *pinches his cheeks*

5. ngl, it was quite satisfying to see jason knock the scarecrow out like that.

5.5. i guess... the question of jason’s culpability is always going to be a thorny one and would make for a great courtroom drama spinoff. there are a number of factors to consider: jason’s personality, the rough circumstances under which he grew up, his undoubtedly stressful transition to being robin, bruce wayne being... well, bruce wayne, never feeling accepted by the titans and having most of them turn on him, being roundly defeated and almost killed by deathstroke, alfred’s death, a fuckload of ptsd, his violent death, crane’s manipulations, coming back to life, crane plying him with a drug. but there is no easy line to draw between any of these factors to his actions. i think it would be a disservice to jason’s character to attribute his actions entirely to these things and rather irresponsible to do so. i think jason has to reckon with the fact that when he took crane’s drug, he wasn’t reckless and chaotic like the thugs he gave it to; the planning that went into hank’s death was meticulous and the way hank died--dawn essentially tricked into pulling the trigger that blew her lover into bits--is so drawn out and cruel.

5.75. it’s occurring to me that crane might have given jason a placebo. maybe jason’s dependence is psychological, and he’s externalised his fears in such a way that he believes crane’s drugs literally wipe them out, however temporarily.

in any case, the boy needs (more) therapy.

6. “he walked like robin...” fuck, tim

“gait recognition sweep” god, this show. i don’t know whether to laugh or cry. hey, once we’re done doing this gait recognition thingy, can we get a goddamn plumber in the house??? or move the commissioner’s desk so that sewage water isn’t dripping on her head or the million dollar touchscreen desk???????

6.5. oh no dick!!!!!! i am delighted that you got hurt but i feel ashamed about it! that looked like it really hurt!

he’s really not having a good time of it, is he. from being shot by a sniper to slamming at full speed into an suv, he’s got to be really fucking battered by now. and that’s just the physical side of it.

“can you believe that just over a week ago i was sitting in san francisco eating cauliflower crust pizza and feeling good about myself for the first time in five years...”

7. kory’s having visions again! now that she’s figured what they are, do you think the show’s just dropped justin? it’s curious that HPG hasn’t been brought up in a while after featuring relatively heavily in the beginning. hmmm.

8. dick’s in hospital but... he looks remarkably whole for someone who took a spill like that. you’d think he’d at least have a bruise to show for it. on the other hand, i love that the first thing he says is ‘i need to call home’. reminds me of season 1 dick and his clumsy attempts to explain away his found family as an ‘alliance of necessity’ or some bullshit. what a long way he’s come!

*gasp* dick’s hallucinating again!!!!!!!!!!!! i’m doing the dick’s hallucinating dance! can you believe that we’re carrying over these huge honking issues unearthed in season 2 onto season 3? can you believe?!!! all that time and effort i spent talking about dick’s mental health from last season has not gone in vain!!

... ahem. anyway. more on this later.

“hold on barbara, i think kory gave me the number to this therapist that she kept calling Hot Psychiatrist Guy...”

9. just an interlude to say that i’m barely halfway through the episode and i’ve already written 2k+ words... ugh. i’m going to try and be more concise.

10. man i fuckin love it when titans goes all out with its weird mindscapes and i’m extra glad that kory’s the focus this time. is that baby kom or maybe a secret sibling that neither of them knew about? was that lady luand’r? and is this place where kory was circling where the secret sibling is? it’s all very intriguing.

(if justin turned out to be that sibling... we’ve a real luke/leia situation on our hands.)

11. aw, i knew that nice security guard was going to die, but it still hurt to see him go :(

12. this show is so bizarre. like i get the mindscape as a narrative device, but jason using sex workers to try and vocalise his guilt about killing hank was just weird. like. i have to use tamil, sorry: idhulaan yaaru pa room pottu yosikara??? some things just can’t be translated into a second language.

i guess one way to interpret jason’s reckoning with what he did to the titans as a sign of him coming off crane’s drug, but i think it’s more to do with the disillusionment of realising that he was a mere pawn in a more sinister plan, and not, as he thought, a player in control of his destiny, rising to the purpose of liberating gotham of its fears in a way batman never could. along the way, he’s done some truly irreversible damage. it’s a bitter pill to swallow.

13. another hallucination! it’s really intriguing that it’s a young dick(?), younger than we’ve ever seen him, wearing an early-era robin costume from way before he even became robin. (this is also interesting in that it gives credence to the idea that ‘robin’ is an identity that dick created entirely on his own, and as a possible homage to his family.)

“old road, old house... it’s all gone.” i wonder what it all means.

13.5. it’s entirely likely dick’s hallucinating because of a brain injury from the accident, though just hallucinations without any other focal neurological deficit is unusual. he might’ve been microdosed with fear toxin at some point, though i wonder when... did jason do so after dick’s accident? did he get dosed at the factory from last episode?

it’s also possible it’s a continuing manifestation of dick’s issues from last season--which, if you remember, he never told anyone about and therefore never properly addressed. maybe he was hallucinating bruce wayne in a psychotic episode accompanying an acute stress reaction and maybe that’s what’s happening now. nobody’s denying that he’s under an extraordinary amount of stress right now. another way to look at it is that this is how he externalises conflict that he can’t bear to suppress anymore; if in s2 halluci!bruce manifested his insecurities and self-loathing, then these hallucinations... something to do with his fears, no doubt.

yet ANOTHER way to look at it might be: rachel is reaching out to him through their, well, psychic bond. after all, they were able to use that bond unconsciously last season to get the titans back together; maybe rachel has learned to gain a degree of control over it in themyscira and is sending across warnings? it’s all very intriguing.

anyway:

“i hear you skipped over the discowing suit in your evolution to nightwing... how could you??”

14. can you imagine, gar did all the work of reaching out to jason via molly and jason wants to meet dick? smh.

14.5. “i’m just a regular guy doing regular things” he says, standing at the opening of a secret old tunnel, like a secret person doing secret things, confronting someone who can now officially be called his stalker. neither of you guys are ‘regular’

14.8. ‘my dad was a cop and he taught me how to investigate’ - hmmm. i guess they’re trying to Explain Tim but i don’t think that’s really necessary. so he’s smart and he’s obsessed with batman and robin--that should be enough, imo.

15. that scene with scarecrow and his mother was... wow. i’m just laughing here helplessly, because what the hell? for a while i thought it was an extended dream sequence and i’m still not entirely sure that it isn’t...

anyway. i still love that titans is happy to throw out its plot in favour of extended character-exploration sessions.

15.5. it seems to me that this scene with crane and his mother (i have no idea if there’s anything in the comics similar to this) serves to move forward this season’s theme of harmful legacies and how parents can damage their children in the name of their mission. in a way it’s been the underlying message of the entire show but we’re really seeing it being reinforced this season. the titans, serving as a foil to scarecrow, are using the damage to rebuild themselves and actually work through their issues together, instead of spiralling further and further into the morass of their issues.

other than that... god, that scene was painful to watch. i can’t say i like this version of scarecrow or how this actor plays him at all.

16. i wonder what’s jason’s play here. i think he’s smart enough to realise that the titans aren’t going to just forgive him and let him be a titan again after what he did, and that dick agreeing to it is just a bid to pin both him and crane down. maybe it’s a ploy to trap them, get back on scarecrow’s good books so that he can have the drug again. who knows.

17. i absolutely felt dick when he said “we’ll bring him in and then re-assess the situation.” what the fuck else is he going to say? the priority is to get him.

so kory and dick are both hallucinating while potentially trying to rehabilitate their murderous siblings. CONFIDE IN EACH OTHER ALREADY

18. TIM NOOOO! you beautiful, reckless fool!

18.25. just to quickly address it here because i know it’s been brought up before: i think it’s perfectly justified to not have conner take tim to the hospital via superspeed because a) i don’t think we’ve seen conner do that with anybody so far and b) it’s probably not a good idea to submit tim’s body to that kind of stress without knowing what it would do to him. the paramedics with actual equipment and experience would be there in a few minutes, so on a risk assessment, i would say dick and conner absolutely made the right call.

18.5. i guess we won’t know what jason really intended to when the titans came to the pump to see him, but this is definitely going to set a big wedge in his relationship with crane. then again, crane got what he wanted--using starfire’s powers to blast through to the underground pipes--so jason can argue that this is exactly what he was working towards, too.

anyway, mortal peril, hallucinations, murderous family members, creepy visions and robins sprouting left and right. time to get rachel and donna on the scene, i think.

#titans #titans spoilers #meta #garfield logan #dick grayson #koriand'r #jason todd #tim drake #jonathan crane #conner kent #komand'r #aaaaah this is 3k+#*collapses in a heap*

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lifeexperience · 4 years ago

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Maribat March 2021 - Half time

In my AO3 account I am also updating the 'A playboy billionaire, an ambassador and the secret love-child' title, and sometimes I add(ed) commentary why I write something the way I do.

Masterlist

From the last fifty days here is all the plus note:

First day

In Red Robin (2009-2011) comics Vicki Vale was a little bit too noisy for her own good, that's why I used her personal annoyance against Bruce Wayne in this story.

Third day

Vanessa Rios was an assistant district attorney in Gotham in the Robin (1993-2009) run. Here I am using her as the Wayne's legal team head. Tamara Fox, Lucius Fox's daughter, is friends with Tim Drake in Red Robin (2009-2011) comics and here too. Also she is an intern with the HR department who knows about the BatFam alteregos.

Fifth day

In the comics, Alfred always followed Bruce to his 'trips' (in 'Batman and Son' to London, 'Batman & Robin Annual' to an scavenger hunt, in 'Batman Inc.' to every country where they found representatives...) However because of Damian's unpredictable behaviour he stayed at the manor with the children in this story.

Sixth day

So Young Justice thing is a little complicated to me if I dare to say something about it. There was the 'Young Justice: The Secret' and its sequels. Then there were 'The New52' and 'DC Rebirth' era, plus the animation show. And they all are kind of okay..ish, furthermore I wanted to keep the principles like the main members (Tim Drake, Connor Kent, Bart Allen and Cassie Sandsmark), however I never liked their too childish behavior in some of the works (and the mixing with 'The Titans). So in this story, here, they are more adult..ish, but more relaxed and cheerful than 'The Titans' ever was (like in comics, not in the shows).

Eighth day

In the 'Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir' show they showed Lila as a manipulator without any remorse, which got me to think she has antisocial personality disorder (ASPD). I am not a doctor but I had some basic lesson in psychology, and I have a natural curiosity about things so I always research everything. With diagnosed ASPD the person has to be older then 18, however I read its symptoms can show up in childhood, and it can lead to an earlier diagnosis like 14-15 years old early.

In the case of Lila she deceives people and uses them (✓). Don't makes long term plans or thinking through about her behavior (✓), however has a set on some goal she wants to achieve (✓). She has a sense of superiority above of her classmates and adults in her environment (✓), nevertheless does't have any remorse or guilt to mistreat them (✓). Uses charisma and her fake charming persona to get something or someone (✓), however didn't value them more than tools or prizes (✓).

I didn't see any real aggressive behavior from Lila beside akumatizations (✓), but on its own I think it's enough evidence, that she has this disorder (and not the many that she claimed). In normal aggressive way Lila didn't show herself (like physical violence, loud angry outbursts, big fits in front of everyone) yet, rather she uses Akumatization to hide that kind of behavior (when Adrien tried to stand up she became willingly Chameleon, or the Heroe's Day, or Oni-Chan). So her Akumatised forms and helping to Hawkmoth are the evidences that she has aggressive behavior, however they are not the classic forms (but we also can remember the threatening in the bathroom, but I think that was more intimidation and showing her superiority then pure aggressiveness).

And I wanted that recreate and strengthen this 'fact' a little bit so it would be more obvious than in the show.

Ninth day

In the comics there are so many take on Bruce Wayne it's kind of hard to count it. We could list the Batman persona, when he kind of let his children do what they want within his no-kill-rule (like living alone at fourteen with bunch of other teenager - 'Teen Titans' or 'Young Justice' or as it looks like to go rough - Robin, Red Hood). And there is the obvious martyr-parent take, when he has to know everything about his children, but he is always silent about the important things ('Death of the family' - 'Batman and Robin: Born to kill' - 'The Hunt for Robin'). And one of my favorites the worried-tired father take, when he is kind of showing his emotions and trying to love his kids ('Super Sons' - 'Robin Rises' - 'Prelude to the Wedding: Nightwing vs. Hush' ...).

And I decided to use the last with a more active take from the first (like he lets everyone do their thing but he is monitoring them within reasons). In the comics there are many accusations about being someones father (with Julie Madison or Mariah Shelley), and here in my take he is trying to be responsible (for the sake of his children, mainly for Damian and Jason) and checks every claim out personally (so they also can do DNS test).

Tenth day

Alya Césaire is a complicated someone in the show. At first she is portrayed as a fierce helper for the protagonist, Marinette. She is stubborn and reckless, but royal to her best friends.

Then came Lila and the makers sharpened her stubborn tunnel vision. This I saw it first at the 'Lady Wifi' episode, when she clearly didn't remember about the first day, when Ladybug saved Chloé (or ignored it). After that she always fixated on 'Adrienette' (or everything else if it's interesting - Dark Cupid) when the girl, herself had other things to do (Princess Fragrance, Puppeteer 2, Reflektdoll 2, Timebreaker). So it was not that big surprise when her tunnel vision turned to Lila, and she (and everybody in her class) forgot about that they all met Jagged Stone and with his crocodile already.

Yeah, it's all true, however unlike Lila, Alya didn't show any other big social flaw. And she is 14 years old and middle child, which is kind of important in someone personality. She has to be a mature figure and a little child at the same time in her sibling's eyes. She has to compete attention in their parents eyes and be smart about it.

Moreover if we look at the Collège Françoise Dupont's students, they are all spoiled, not just Chloé or Lila or Adrien. Yes, they are not that bad like the three, but they are all sheltered to a certain degree. Their family don't have financial problems (famous chef, designers, mayor, famous bakery, curator in the most famous museum, police officer, famous pantomime, ...), plus they are all in a prestigious school where they can't meet people with everyday problems (and rich spoiled kid is not an everyday occurrence in my country). And beside some vision problems (Max, Sabrina) they are all healthy and the first time to meet a disability is when Lila arrived. So it's natural if they don't really know how to interact right with her (putting aside that whole lie thing).

And I think they, especial Alya, need first a little life experience, before they could be called responsible about their acts. And here I am trying to write it this kind of way, where they are all flawed, but they can learn from it.

Human being can be shallow and not perfect. These children only heard one perspective from Lila, and another from Marinette. In the show the makers not exactly specified about how well the classmates know Marinette and how depth Marinette and Alya friendship is, so there is already some trust issue.

Like yeah all of they are going to concerts, cinema, each others, however they didn't show so far any serious conservation between them (maybe the only exception is Adrien-Marinette combo). Until this year when Adrien and Alya got transferred in the class, the classmates don't even help Marinette with Chloé bullying. And one year friendship - how beautiful is it tho - is not that depth and stable, especially with that many secrets they have. And Lila 'charming' personality came into this still fragile relationship at the right time to prove this.

I am not saying that the makers is doing good to simplifies the relationships. Because rather they missed so many ziccers for the sake of promote new hero designs and the overwritten romantic scene, it's physical hurting me. But they are right that we are talking sheltered-traumatized-too naive kids, who sometimes had unearned magic powers (looking at Chloé, Alya, Kim).

And I didn't ever going the length of mentioning the adult characters. It's an other kind of wormhole.

Marinette was the only one who openly disobeyed Lila's wants. She stands up against her lies in the public so she is a real obstacle for Lila. While Adrien is only trying in the background without any witness (I don't say it's bad, because with some case it's better, but not here), and the boy is too valuable to Lila.

Lila already showed in the series she didn't stop with the lies and she is brave enough to ruin someone carrier with them (Marinette - 'Ladybug', Nathalie and Gorilla - 'Oni-Chan', Alya - 'Volpina'). And Adrien watched all of it in the front seat, and he kind of knows that Lila's main target here to discredit and broke Marinette/Ladybug (and Adrien, himself also, but it's his perspective and he is very sheltered and naive about it).

And this story she got another one to ruin. Bruce Wayne, himself. And as her fake charming side melts away in her anger as she is focusing more and more on her targets.

Eleventh day

Speed Force is one of the Seven Forces of the Universe. It grants the power of the speedsters. And some of them merged with it (for example Barry Allen). Speed Force has a direct connection to the time flow and with the Multiverse (or now Omniverse). The biggest event of it is the Flashpoint (2011) which started the New52 era. And Batman doesn't want to mix this kind of force with a really mysterious ancient magic.

Nightrunner's first appearance was in 2011 in Detective Comics Annual #12. Within the Batman Incorporated line Bruce recruited Bilal Asselah, French-Algerian citizen to represent Batman in Paris. Here he is a mentor/background assistant to the Team Miraculous and a representative of Batman Inc.

Fourteenth day

Wang Fu is not the most mature character in the show and I think it says it all. Being an 186 years old is the Great Guardian after he accidentally destroyed the temple, he is kind of shameful and amateur. And if we contrasted him with Batman... yeah. Batman is NOT happy and takes the control from the old master.

Fifteenth day

I know Cyborg, alias Victor Stone is currently shown as a founding member of the Justice League (since 2011), however I am prefer him more in the Titans. And it's not just because of the animation show form 2003, but also in the comics he is more himself with the first Titans then with the -all mighty- Justice League. And I also wanted him to have a little cameo in this story because in the Super Sons (2017-) he was kind of like a babysitter for the boys. And to me it's kind of funny how many times the bats short circuited him (Robin Rises, Super Sons: Parent Trap, ...).

Sixteenth day

Damian Wayne is a complicated character. For ten years he was teached to kill. He only learnt about his mother at eight. He only learnt about his father at ten. Thalia used him for anything from power play to plotting someone death. Bruce loves him, but he is so moronic about his own emotions it's kind of painful to read sometimes. And there is the thing where Damian is never enough, his mother cloned him (Heretic), his father has other wards (mainly Red Robin). Dick Grayson went incognito spying when the boy had finally a healthier relationship (Grayson: The Superspy). His best friend, Jon Kent was suddenly older then him (2018 Superman #16). Alfred was killed in front of him (2016 Batman #77). Yeah, Damian is a jerk, but he has every right to be a jerk in my opinion. And I wanted that recreate here as Lila is a liar and threatening his 'only' position as a blood son. His only weapon to prevent it to have a fit and doing what was teached to him.

Fulltime

#maribat march #half time closure #maribat #ml fanfic #analysis #character analysis #it's long #2021

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sparrowsabre7 · 4 years ago

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Ok this was in my drafts from ages ago and I forgot to post so it’s here now:

So with Arkham Knight completed I wanted to discuss the story and some of the things I liked about the plot.

For my money Arkham City is the most entertaining of the series plot-wise. It is wide in scope, incorporating a large group of Batman’s rogues, with a lead villain who has a commanding presence. It is the quintessential Batman plot, full of twists, focusing on his dynamic with the Joker and is a big ‘ol actionfest.

Arkham Knight’s plot on the other hand is quite pedestrian by comparison looking at the villain plot: Scarecrow wants to take down Batman and cause chaos in Gotham and a mysterious new villain appears to help. From this standpoint, Arkham Knight is nothing special. However, as a character study of Batman, it goes much deeper than any of the previous games, and deeper even than any of the films. Most of those dealt with “Why does Bruce Wayne become Batman?” whereas Knight asks the question “What does it mean to BE Batman?”

In this respect “Be the Batman” is more than just a marketing tagline. We really delve into what makes Batman and Bruce Wayne tick and their relationships with the world, their allies, and enemies.

We’re going to delve into big spoiler territory now so be ye warned.

Batman in this game is in an interesting place. Crime is supposedly lower than ever when Scarecrow’s plan starts falling into place, yet he’s hitting criminals harder than ever, working tirelessly in his war on crime. His modifications to the Batmobile make this immediately apparent, adding numerous heavy weapons and armour. One of the unlockable Arkham stories indicates that adding more weaponry has been something Batman has fought for years, according to Lucius, but he had a change of heart some point between City and Knight. We learn soon enough that Batman is on borrowed time. His blood is still infected with Joker’s own and is actually beginning to turn him. This is his last assault on crime, one final push if a cure cannot be found. As a result, he is pushing his allies further away than ever. This alienation was seen in a small way in the epilogue DLC “Harley Quinn’s Revenge”, keeping Robin at arm’s length and mostly avoiding contact with his allies entirely.

This is one of the key themes of the whole game and, personally, if I were to choose one word to sum up Arkham Knight it would be “family”. “Asylum”, “City”, and “Origins” were all solo efforts on Batman’s part, with some input in his ear from Oracle and Alfred, and a brief appearance by Robin. This is the first game to really have the Bat-family on board proper and this really informs a lot of the game and Batman’s motivations.

He pushes them away because he knows he’s dying. He pushes them away because he wants them to get used to the idea of him being gone. Most importantly, he pushes them away because he believes this will keep them safe. This is underlined when Scarecrow’s fear toxin kicks in. Thanks to the hallucinations provided by it, we are shown two of Batman’s greatest failures in his eyes, along with his raison d’etre: the crippling of Barbara Gordon, the torture and murder of Jason Todd, and the death of his parents. The former two are clearly never far from the dark knight’s thoughts and show why he genuinely does fear for his allies safety. This ends up, in the obvious ironic twist, putting them in greater danger. By keeping them at arm’s length and withholding his plans, the Batman is a less effective force. He doesn’t consider that they are safest together, working as a team. His allies come to his rescue a couple of times during the course of the game, Nightwing saving him from Penguin’s thugs, Catwoman saving him from an unwinnable fight against The Riddler, Oracle aiding him during the defence of the GCPD and Robin not saving him per se, but defusing some of the Johnny Charisma’s bombs while Batman is unable to move.

Another key subplot is Batman vs Joker. Even after his death, through his blood and the fear toxin, Joker is resurrected as a hallucination, a dark Jiminy Cricket pestering and needling the caped crusader at every turn. This is the ultimate Joker, no less potent for not being “real”. He represents everything Batman hates and fears, because he is not only The Joker, but the darkest parts of Batman’s mind, all the what ifs, the maybe should’ves, all of this tumbles out of Joker’s mouth, taunting the dark knight with his own insecurities. It shows Batman’s human side a lot more than any previous game, shows he can be afraid, he does have doubts, can fail, can falter. This is something which clearly plays across his mind throughout the game and leads him to the ultimate conclusion of the game which I will touch on in a bit.

The Joker has always been key to the Batman mythos. He was that in Batman #1 so nearly as long as the Batman has been in existence. Having him manifest as a facet of Batman’s subconscious is both a neat narrative trick (and way to skirt the “Joker is dead” thing without cheapening the end of “City”) and a useful dynamic in explaining who Batman is. Much of his existence has been spent battling The Joker and it’s clear that there is a side of Batman in “Knight” that almost misses him in a sense. His presence also plays up the yin-yang of their relationship and eventually culminates quite literally in a battle in Batman’s psyche.

Near the game’s ending Scarecrow unmasks Batman and injects him with a heavy dose of fear toxin. This causes Joker’s personality to be brought to the fore but at the same time empowers Batman’s own power of fear, showing the clown prince of crime his own greatest nightmare: being forgotten. This is ultimately delivered personally by Batman, bursting from the shadows of his own mind and subduing the Joker side, locking him away forever, enforcing this with the time tested phrase “I am vengeance, I am the night, I am Batman.” This is said, as another blogger pointed out, as much to himself as to The Joker. This is a declaration that he is Batman, he is no longer Bruce Wayne. To paraphrase “Batman Begins”, as Bruce Wayne he can fail, be killed, and simply die, which is when we come to the ending.

Upon the final villains being rounded up he initiates the Knightfall protocol and removes his mask. This is a clear symbolic gesture as he is leaving Batman behind on the rooftop with the Batsignal and reverting to Bruce Wayne. He flies back to Wayne Manor and it explodes, destroying the whole building. It’s not made explicit but it’s fairly evident that Bruce has faked his death, very publicly killing Bruce Wayne, now that he has been revealed as the alter ego of Batman. Gordon’s narration states that “this is how the Batman died” but it’s really how Bruce Wayne died.

The final scene shows Thomas, Martha and young Bruce Wayne stand-ins walking down an alley past a theatre, visually recreating Batman’s origin. There’s a gunman, there are broken pearls, this is the birth of Batman as we remember. This time however, Batman already exists. A shadow appears on the rooftop behind the criminals, towering high before spreading shadowy wings and fiery demon eyes alighting as it swoops towards them and cuts to black. It’s clear this is more than a symbolic statement as the criminals react to this “Knightmare” and are clearly terrified. Ultimately it’s up to interpretation, but I think, either it is The Batman in his purest form, shed of the Bruce Wayne identity, free to be more than human (with the use of Scarecrow’s fear toxin apparently), or it simply a psychological manifestation. After Scarecrow’s gas flooded Gotham’s streets, perhaps the residual effects left a lingering memory of Batman that was burned into their consciousness.

Either way it’s a true and final realisation of Bruce Wayne’s goal for the Batman. To become something eternal, supernatural even, that will watch over an protect

#batman #arkham knight #games #arkham trilogy

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cleverbxrd · 4 years ago

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What Were You Expecting?

WHO: Dick Grayson / @cxrcusbxrd , Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd / @rxdshood , Ra’s al Ghul MENTIONED: Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown, Damian Wayne, Cassandra Cain, Talia al Ghul WORD COUNT: 4,141 LOCATION: Ra’s’ current evil hidey-hole THE BASICS: Two Birds (and a Bat) walk into a secret League of Assassins base... TW: Comic/Action Movie Level Violence, Slight Trauma, Injury, Murderous Intent, Past Death Mention, Deus Ex Grayson

DICK: None of this was easy. Nothing about having to rescue a member of their family, their little dysfunctional clan, was remotely easy. It had taken them this long to even find out a possible place where Tim had been taken to, and even then something felt very off. Maybe it was uncharted territory, maybe it was the fact that he'd told Jason to lead the charge alone, call him over com if he couldn't find anything. The seconds were ticking away, and he wasn't keeping as strict a timer as he felt he should. Nightwing was currently on lookout duty, guarding their secretly made entryway into the compound, looking out for what he could only assume were ninja, assassins, that Ra's had employed on monitor duty. No one in or out, sounded on par. Luckily he hadn't run into anyone he needed to crack the skulls of, but even that put him on edge. It was like the Demon's Head was just waiting for them. If Steph hadn't been enough of a warning, this eerie silence while he waited for his younger brother's call... Ah Hell, Jason wasn't going to get back to him, not like this. Guy was probably looking for the source. Who could blame him? They were all reckless, very much to their own faults. If they wanted to be smart about this, though, they couldn't take the direct path to the one who started it all. Maybe a crash-course in their strategy would've been effective. Dick had to stop himself in his mental tracks. Relinquishing lead was hard, but he trusted Jason, trusted his instincts. They'd both been trained by the same guy... So why was he so damn nervous?

Maybe it was the fact that he felt someone's eyes on him in the fraction of a second he'd had a momentary panic about weather or not they were approaching this entire situation correctly (and really, who's going to say if it was right or wrong? Sometimes you have to call a shit-ton of audibles). Dick's white-lensed eyes squinted into the darkness, a hairline trigger activating infrared to see if he could really find who he was sure was watching him, watching them. It didn't take long before he reached behind his shoulders to pull the electrified escrima sticks from his back, settling into an all too familiar low defensive stance. If there was one thing he was sure of he wasn't going to take this impromptu mission any less seriously than his more 'normal', less paranoia-inducing ones. I'm getting my brother back.

"I know you're out there," He finally called out, the weapons crackling to life with charged light, just barely illuminating the small area that he stood his ground. "Show yourself!"

BRUCE: The boys were doing what the boys did, ignore his orders and get themselves into trouble. It was an old song and dance by now, one he had hoped they already knew the steps to, though he supposed that their urgency, their panic, blinded them to the inevitability of it all.

Did they truly think they would go on a rescue mission without him finding out? That he would really allow them to charge headfirst into Ra’s hands without him having a say in it? He didn’t know if that reflected poorly on him or proved that as grown as they were his sons were all still boys in the end.

Bruce perched atop the roof, his brow furrowed underneath his cowl as his planted device hummed, an EMP knocking out the motion sensors throughout the grounds before the bat took a running leap to glide closer to his target, Dick.

He landed with a dull thud, his jaw clenched as he stood to his full height.

“You’re jumpy,” Bruce said simply, his attention turning to the ‘Thwip’ of two guards being lifted and secured behind Dick’s back, “and sloppy. I was under the impression you two were conducting a stealth mission.”

DICK: Ah. Shit.

Hi dad. Er, second dad. The dad that didn't bother to adopt him officially until he'd been well past Ward status.

Still, the familiar sight of a bat-eared cowl did nothing to prevent the squinted lenses from narrowing further, the stance he'd taken relaxing only a fraction. He was still on edge, still on high alert. Bruce was good, as he always was, and caught him off guard. Sloppy.

He didn't need to be told twice, less-than-happy flashbacks of hours on hours of training popping in and out of subconsious memory... this wasn't the time to be reminiscing on weather or not you actually wanted to give the old man the argument of a lifetime.

"It was," Nightwing sighed, absently twirling one of the lightened sticks in his hand. "But something tells me it's a bit hard to be stealthy against literal ninja." Assassins, same difference. Squaring his blue-lined shoulders, the former sidekick faced his mentor with a grimace. "How the hell did you find us, Bruce?"

BRUCE: Bruce fought the urge to roll his eyes at Dick's tense posture. He was glad he was on guard, they always had to be in these situations, but a bigger part of him wanted to scold him for following Jason into this suicide mission without backup, without him.

Tim was his ward, his robin, his son. He needed to be here.

For more reason than one, given the boys lack of forethought.

He simply hummed in acknowledgement. He could dissect their plan at a later date. Tonight was about getting their boy back.

"There are trackers imbedded into the fabric of your suit." He answered plainly. Dick didn't need to know about the trackers he had on Jason, nor the ones he had in the very sticks he held in his hands. A bat needed some secrets, after all.

"Come on, there are guards to the north that we need to clear out for our escape route."

DICK: Maybe it was the fact that he'd been on edge ever since Tim had gone missing without a trace. Maybe it was years of pent up aggression that he'd never fully let himself come to term with. Maybe it was the fact that he was still being treated like a sidekick. There were reasons Dick had made the jump to Bludhaven, then New York; He had to get out of The Shadow. Easier said than done, apparently

"Track-?" The hushed word fell short as his eyes suddenly went wide, looking down at the no-doubt invisibly weaved nanotech. God damnit, Bruce. "... You..." Seething, he hissed through clenched teeth instead of finding the right word. Of course he would've slipped up on that minor detail in his blind rage, the sudden need he had to bring his brother out here and bring Ra's to justice. No doubt, he was getting a full mission report after this, as if it wasn't his own, Jason's own, mission to carry out.

Still... Having one of the best in the biz probably wasn't the worst thing in the world. With the Batman, this mission could take less time than he was sure it would've taken them. Hell, he hadn't heard the signal yet. With a bit of time, he was sure he'd hear that familiar tweet. He really hoped so anyway.

"Fine," Nightwing huffed, semi-reluctantly dropping his head. "You'd better be prepared. This creep's been waiting for this for ages."

~~~

JASON: There was something unnerving about any and all League bases to Jason. It made his skin crawl and feel the urge to turn tail and run as fast as he could away. A child turned into a weapon, blood staining hands that couldn't be washed away now. Some for people deserving of it, some for those perhaps that didn't, but it was too late to try to attempt to feel remorse now. If he even did at all. It was apart of him now, a way of life he had come to accept and wasn't something he shied away from. Memories from this part of his life were broken at best, flashes of memories he could vaguely recall. Hands around the throat of someone he had been ordered to kill, the offense unclear, but the order firm, the anxiety bubbling up. Too intimate, too much, too close. Finishing the job and resolutely deciding silently from then on killing from a distance was mandatory. Maybe there was some psychology behind Jason's decision to choose guns as his primary choice of a weapon, but that wasn't something he ever really wanted to get into.

For now, Jason had to push away the anxiety and insistent jagged memories to push forward, steel himself to do what he came to do. Save Tim, bring Tim home. Dick had told him to lead the charge, be the leader for once. Jason hadn't really known what to do with that other than take the reigns and push forward, take the information they knew and act. It had been long enough, far too long, and they were getting their little brother back.

Things were quiet. Too quiet. It only added to the anxiety that stayed firmly building in Jason's chest he refused to show, thankful for the helmet that hid any and all facial expressions that might slip through the ever so diligent Bat training. Winding halls and diverting from any potential hiccups. Naturally, a few heads were knocked together, silencer on his gun as he shot to take incapacitate—not kill. No matter how much he wanted to put the bullet through the assassins' eyes rather than a knee.

Inching further along, Jason got to where he intended. Not Tim, no. Ra's al Ghul. "Love what you've done with the place, Ra's. A lot more spooky chic than you had before. I'm sure Talia would hate it." The younger man hummed, a few quick shots sending the remaining assassins in the room sprawling out on the floor. "Don't worry, nothing a few surgeries can't do to fix them right up. Or do you prefer to put them down? Memory's a bit spotty from when I was here last time." He sneered under the helmet, gun trained on the man in question now—though silently he was unsure if this was a genius plan or completely idiotic. Probably the latter.

"My brother. I want him back. I'm not leaving without him."

RA’S: Ra's was no fool. He hadn't expected the Bat clan to simply roll over and accept that Timothy was out of their reach now. Many of Bruce Wayne's children had ended up under Ra's care over the years, before or after meeting the billionaire: Jason, Damian, Stephanie, Cassandra.

One would think that eventually, Bruce would get better at keeping them out of his hands. But getting to Tim had been easy.

Keeping him was bound to be a bit trickier, so Ra's had called in some reinforcements. One could never be too careful. Loading the board visibly wouldn't be much of a deterrent but would show his hand, so instead Ra's had kept the halls of this hideaway under their normal guard--at least, as far as could be seen. Timothy was locked away deeper into the complex , accompanied by a handful of men under orders to put a bullet in the boy's head before letting him be taken back.

He'd never professed not to be possessive.

Jason came charging into the chamber where Ra's was waiting, and the ancient assassin didn't even blink as his men dropped with groans around him. Nor was he particularly bothered by having a gun leveled at his face.

"Well, since you're asking--yes, I would prefer you aim for their heads in the future. Saves me the work," Ra's answered calmly, taking a step in Jason's direction. The man's demand earned an amused scoff. "Ah. Well, then, I'm afraid you won't be leaving. Timothy will be staying with me. You're welcome to request visits." Ra's smiled, icily. "I do so miss having you around, al'ahmar. You were very entertaining." Ra's reached up to his own throat, unclasping his cape and laying it over a chaise in passing.

"Now, where is your father? I do prefer dealing with the one in charge. Smoothes the process. And I know they didn't trust you to run it, not their little stray bird."

Ra's smirked. "Did Grayson tell you, by the way? That you and dear Timothy have a new shared experience?"

JASON: Jason always could feel the oncomings of his pit rage. It had taken a good few years to be able to do just that. At first, it was uncontrollable. He lashed out at so many of the men that worked for Talia and destroyed a hotel room once in a fit of rage upon finding out he had been replaced. Now his said replacement was someone he considered his little brother and wouldn't be leaving without. If he wouldn't be leaving then so be it. As long as Tim left.

Jason snarled under the helmet and could feel the haze creeping forward in his head, if his eyes were visible he was sure they'd flash an even more eery shade of green than they had been changed to from the pit effects. Every word that left Ra's mouth only fueled and poked at the fire. "He's not my father," a reflect, venom dripping from the four words. "You get me. No big bat or other birds to play babysitter. I don't do so well without supervision, I hear."

Jason didn't see red. No, he saw green, and in an instant he surged forward and whipped the gun across the older man's face. He shoved it back into his thigh holster as his other gloved hand closed around Ra's throat. He wanted his blood to paint the walls, to see him choke on his own blood and die slowly. The urge to do what he could to finish him clawed at his chest violently. "I'll kill you! I'll fucking watch you choke on your blood and step on your throat to make it even more agonizing. To put you in a fucking body bag would be a goddamn dream come true!"

RA'S: Jason was so very easy to get under the skin of. He had died scared and angry and came back scared and angrier, the former beaten out until all that was left was rage. Ra's knew better than anyone else on Earth what the Pit could do to the mind, the way its haze could seep through the mind and obscure all but the urge to tear people apart. He'd had centuries to adjust.

Jason had not--he was a constantly ticking time bomb. And Ra's enjoyed prodding at him to set him off. "Oh, my. You still hold a grudge about being replaced, and yet you're here to retrieve your replacement. Interesting choice. But then, you never were the bright one."

It was, of course, the mention of what he'd done to Timothy that set the man off fully, and even Ra's had to concede that Jason was fast. The blow to the face stung, but Jason shoved his gun away as quickly as it'd come out, opting for more up-close fighting.

Poor choice.

Ra's let the man tighten his grip, brought both arms up between them so his forearms were against the man's shoulders, and then hooked his leg around Jason's and pushed, sending them both to the ground.

He snapped an arm up to deliver a sharp elbow to the chin, and then used the momentum to snap the same arm back against the one with the grip on his throat, hitting the crook of Jason's elbow to loosen his hold.

"You know better than to think you can beat me, let alone kill me, al'ahmar. But I won't deny the pleasure of a fight if that's what you insist on--it'd bring me no greater pleasure than to have Bruce Wayne know that I took you from him again. One more dip in the Pit, and maybe the madness doesn't stay back." His own eyes flared with that poisonous shade of green.

"You won't kill me, even if you could. He'd be dead before you ever got your hands on him."

JASON: Jason's head jerked up and he tasted blood immediately, likely from biting down on his tongue. The minor pain was nothing compared to the burn that was spreading through him as he fell into his Pit induced rage. His arm buckled, fingers loosening around Ra's' throat. That only served to piss him off further. He was literally rolling in the dirt with Ra's al Ghul. His life was a joke, but whatever the cost. He'd get Tim out of this. Even if he didn't—

"I didn't know you were in the business of making balloon animals now, al Ghul. You're taking credit for a clown's handiwork. Do you prefer Boo Boo the Fool or Chuckles?" Jason spat out through the voice modulator of his helmet, bringing a knee up to connect with any body part he could reach, gain some traction. Maybe he wasn't the best at hand to hand combat compared to the other birds, but he wasn't bad at it by any means. He also had size on his side, more muscles and height than the others did to use to his advantage.

The hand that loosened from Ra's throat snapped up to shove palm up at his nose hard and fast, disorient him any way he could. "Maybe I won't, but I do know I'll make it hurt like hell before you can even think to get your grubby paws on him again. Where do you prefer your stab wounds? You know what? I'll surprise you!" In the scuffle of their bodies, Jason whipped his knife out of his belt and slashed at his torso.

RA'S: A clown? Really. Ra's felt his anger ratchet up another notch at the mockery, hissing out between his teeth as Jason's knee collided with his ribs. The younger man wasn't much for technique, but he was strongly built, and even stronger when the Pit started pressing its way forward. Ra's could take blows from your average man with barely a shrug, but Jason, despite not being particularly skilled as Grayson and Damian were, could land some stinging blows.

"He put you down the first time," Ra's grunted, just barely managing to avoid the blow at his nose, "but I'll be happy to do it the second go round. But I took you from Bruce in the ways that matter, didn't I? Seeing you dead was one thing, seeing you a killer was another. Does he still look at you like you're someone else?"

Jason's threats were nothing. What was pain to a man who'd lived as many lifetimes as Ra's, who'd been hurt and killed and brought back more times than he cared to count? Ra's would always come back. Jason Todd would die and stay dead the next time he went down. Jason grabbed at a knife, swiped at his side, and the blade sliced through cloth and skin like it was so much paper, even as Ra's started to roll off the man. The ancient assassin snarled, and drew a dagger of his own as he got to his feet, ignoring the crimson that started to paint the side of his robes. His own eyes were the same poisonous green as Jason's now, the Pit rearing to the forefront at the drawing of blood. "The only one who can set your brother free is me, Todd. My men will end his life before you get a foot through the door if I don't give the order. And you think you can make me? You're even stupider than I gave you credit for."

JASON: The younger man was entirely too thrilled in seeing the old man get irritated by his poking and prodding. Jason knew one of his assets was his ability to piss people off purely by speaking. Maybe it was reckless to get the already rage filled man angry, but it was his job after all. He was only doing what he was supposed to, lead the charge. If that had some consequences...oh well. At least they'd be getting Tim back. He wasn't leaving until they did.

The words had Jason biting his tongue, the blow landing as he was sure it was intended. He practically snarled. "What can I say? I've always been the black sheep of the family. Even before the whole 'Jason, this isn't the way!' shtick he was on." He pushed himself to his feet and flipped his knife in his hand, letting out a pleased chuckle to see the red staining the assassin's robes. "I'm sure you can get that out with a little scrubbing. Nothing a little elbow grease can't do. You do know how to do that, right? Manual labor?" Even with the helmet, he was visibly bored. He was angry, but then again, he was always angry. He was good at putting a front, lying was easy, especially for a bat. Might as well poke and prod some more while he was at it.

The stupid remark made Jason's jaw tic and he only laughed. "I didn't need to make you do anything, al Ghul. I just had to distract you." There was a pause and Jason let out a Robin call, the signal to Dick. The signal all Robins knew. "How's it feel being played by someone you think is stupid?" He sneered and immediately pushed forward, slashing out with his knife once more.

RA'S: The jab seemed to land as intended, judging by the moment of silence that preceded the sharp-toned reply lobbed his way. It had never been hard to get under Jason's skin, and it certainly wasn't hard now that the Pit ran through his veins.

Unfortunately, that same Pit had amped up Jason's speed, too. Ra's glowered at the taunts. "Don't you condescend to me, boy. You know nothing of work." Ra's took a step closer, feinted for a stab at the man's side before swiping for his throat beneath the helmet.

I just had to distract you. Ra's eyes narrowed for a moment before he recognized what the call was, and then he sneered, retreating back as his gaze flicked around the room for evidence of the imminent arrival of the rest of the little flock. "Needed a babysitter after all, did we, Todd? Wise of them not to trust you to manage this yourself. Now why don't you go run along while I deal with the grown ups, hm?"

DICK: "Who're you calling grown up?"

The quip was too easy to let loose, even though every bone in his body refused to add any humor behind it. The blue bird stood just behind Jason, hidden partially in the shadows while he approached the apparently on-going fight. He was putting a stop to that, stopping the recklessness of his younger brother... From doing exactly what he would be doing too. "You're pretty twisted if you think both of us wouldn't come for Tim, Ra's." Not to mention the big bad Bat doing all the hard work in the background. Granted, he'd upped security tenfold for this kind of invasion. Clearly, they didn't keep quiet about their invasion. That would be something they'd be scolded for later... Well, himself, mostly. Just one look out of the corner of his eye looked like Jason would be laid up in Alfred's infirmary for a bit... And he didn't even want to think about how bad Tim had it.

"Don't even think about following me," Dick sneered, the white lenses of his mask thinning in his hard squint, moving to hook an arm quickly around the back of Jason's shoulders, attempting to not topple over from the sudden transfer of weight. He was hit that was for sure now. He didn't have time to assess, but they needed to get back to Gotham stat. The glowing stick in one hand, he tapped the non-electrified end against his hip, two black marbles bouncing onto the floor. Without looking down, the vigilante placed his heel on top of the two, drawing his teeth back in a final animalistic sneer. "And don't fuck with my family."

Just the barest transfer of weight had the two spheres busting open under his foot, thick smoke filling the area where the two Robins once stood. Dick was sure this was one of the oldest 'ninja' tricks in the book, that they'd be easily tracked, but that would have to wait for worrying later. It took adrenaline and effort, but he was running with the intent to save. This time, he wouldn't be stopped.

No Robins left behind, he thought, breaching through to the rendezvous point, nearly letting tears loose when he saw the other retrieved bird being hoisted into transport. Never again.

#discord tag tbd

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tomboxe · 5 years ago

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The Batman

It was a moment. A brief flash of the man he’d been for decades. It passed very quickly though, the massive, grotesque smile. There were lines around his eyes now he no longer used the over the top makeup that had for so long struck terror into the citizens of Gotham. He sat back into the gently whirring massage chair that was his almost constant companion, his back an entire citadel of aches. The years of taking on the Batman had taken their toll on him.

He spared a thought for his old enemy and chuckled at the thought of the sheer mass of injuries he must have lived through. How he’d envied the brute force with which Bane had literally broken Batsy on one beautiful, almost tragic occasion. The iconic rictus flickered on his face again for a moment.

He grabbed his cane, the one with the jewel encrusted joker head on it, the only bit of memorabilia he’d kept from the old days. It had been a gift from old Cobblepot, and it was worth an absolute fortune. Not that he cared that much about money anymore.

He walked out to the street, hobbling slightly. He wasn’t a particularly old man, but he was, physically at least, a broken one. He just wanted to live out the rest of his days with the rest of his wealth. He paused at a newspaper stand and looked at the headlines.

“Top of the morning to you sir!”

The vendor’s voice was bright and cheerful. Too cheerful. And who in Gotham used a greeting like that? He got halfway in character, and the grin came out to play. The vendor recoiled a bit.

“Good morning to you, kind citizen. I haven’t my glasses on me, so pray tell, what does the news say?

His smile didn’t shift as the vendor told about crime after crime that the Batman had foiled. If the vendor had any training in reading body language, however, he’d have noticed the clenching of both fists around the head of the cane, the slight twitch in the eye, and the way the seemingly harmless man had drawn himself up to his full height. He didn’t though, and it was just as well for him, as there’s no telling what might have happened if he’d been thought to be goading the Clown Prince.

“And he vouched for the Joker’s old broad! You know, Harley Queen or something! She’s strictly on the straight an’ narrow now.”

The Joker winced at the mispronunciation, said a hurried thank you and walked away. He was angry, and knowing why he was angry made him even more so.

He hurried back to the abandoned amusement park he called home. It was familiar, a safe haven for a clown in an un-mad, sanitised world. He’d had the traps removed and a few creature comforts installed, but apart from that it was a functional fairground. His functional fairground.

He often left the carousel spinning so he could waltz to the music - by himself, now that Harley wasn’t here. She hadn’t left Gotham, but she had refused to stand by him during his trial. He had deserved that, of course. She had been devoted to him and when she had needed him most, he had tossed her aside like an old toy. He’d always been abusive towards her, but the coldness with which he had rejected her had even stunned the Batman.

He remembered it well. It had been one of the things that had escalated his downfall. He had set an elaborate trap for the Dark Knight. It would have been hilarious. It was a pastiche of all the big villains Batman had ever fought - a coin deluge a la TwoFace, a Penguinesque attack by a genetically modified peregrine falcon, a physical and psychological pummelling by Bane, slow acting poison by Ivy - all part of an elaborate death trap maze courtesy of the Riddler which he was forced to go through under the Mad Hatter’s mind control. The Joker chuckled at the perfect plan. He’d even got Carmine Falcone and Rupert Thorne to team up to decimate Wayne Industries and leave the Batman penniless.

The Bat had survived.

He’d blamed Harley, of course. She must have done something wrong. It had been the perfect plan. So when Harley inevitably came running, screaming for her Pudding, he didn’t tell her to get lost. He delivered her to Hugo Strange at Arkham Asylum and had her remanded as a risk to society, staying to watch the initial shock treatments - not that they helped his mood much.

Still, he missed Harley somewhat.

He turned on the TV in an attempt to distract himself. Harley was on the news. Her voice had lost some of its pitch, but she seemed happy.

“Without me!?”

His anger was misplaced, he knew. It had never been Harley’s fault. If he really wanted to kill the Batman he should have shot him in the head at point blank range.

The thought calmed him somewhat. A dead Batman meant anarchy in Gotham. Exciting. He hadn’t been excited in years. He wouldn’t lead the brave new world Batman’s death would usher in, but he could be the catalyst. He could kill the Batman.

Kill the Batman.

“Ha ha! Ha ha ha ha ha! Kill the Batman!”

It sounded amazing out loud. The thought reverberated in his head, filling every part of his psyche. Suddenly it was crystal clear. For the Joker to find peace, the batman had to die.

He spent the next few days plotting. There had to be a crime with all the hallmarks of the Joker’s devious mind to draw out old Batsy. He toyed with the idea of bringing Harley in, but decided against it. It had to be personal.

When the Joker’s ghastly visage appeared above the city, commissioner Sarah Essen hoped and prayed it was a prank. She had been promoted to Commissioner after her husband died at the Joker’s hand, and she had lived in terror until the Batman finally caught the Clown Prince and put him in a facility as far away from Gotham as humanly possible - the Phantom Zone.

It was harder for her to get up to the roof these days, and she was thankful the Batman had upped his game in the years following the Joker’s comeuppance. She rarely had to summon him ever, but tonight she had to know.

He was already there, brooding in front of the filtered strobe light that was casting the Joker’s face into the night sky.

“He wants me.”

The gravelly baritone Bruce Wayne assumed when in his Batman persona had never really deceived her, she liked to think.

“Why?”

“Why not? I ended him.”

The silence between them seemed heavy with questions.

“They shouldn’t have let him out,” the Commissioner said quietly.

“Doesn’t matter. I need to take him down.”

“Yes. But...”

The Batman looked in her direction for the first time that night. His cowl only covered the top of his face, and slight fuzz that covered his chin was flecked with grey. You may be in peak human condition, but nobody lives forever, she thought.

“But what?” He asked.

“Nothing, nothing. It has to be done.”

“Yes. It does.”

In the few moments she spent contemplating her next words, he left. She looked up and was relieved at the fact. There was a time she would have been furious at the abruptness of his departure. Now she just wanted it to end. All of it.

She hobbled back down the fire escape to her office and waited for the inevitable rush of activity that would signify a Joker sighting.

Gotham City Bank. The Batman had foiled more robbery attempts than he could count. All of his Robins had numbers. Batgirl had... he remembered what the Joker had done to Batgirl. To Jason. To Commissioner Gordon.

Every important building had a skylight with an external lock that opened with a digital key that only Batman, the Commissioner and the Mayor had. The real key to the city, Mayor West used to say with a rich little chuckle that often made the Batman half smile in spite of himself.

He slid down into the building from the bank’s skylight. He knew the Joker would be expecting it, but he didn’t have the patience for stealth. He wanted the Joker taken down as quickly as possible.

The little circle pressed into his temple the moment his feet touched the floor.

“Hello Batsy,” the Joker spat. There was mirth in his voice, but it was tinged with an incredible amount of bitterness. Batman shifted his weight and launched his right arm up, knocking the gun out of the Joker’s hand. It spun up in the air and he spun to face his old foe, throwing a black gloved hand towards the Joker.

He wasn’t there.

The Batman touched a pressure point on his cowl and murmured “switch to infra red.”

“Oh I’m not hiding Batsy, although you might want to wish I was.”

He closed the distance between them before batman had a chance to react.

“Goodbye, Batman.”

The first two shots flung the Batman back onto the floor of the bank, the Kevlar that protected his chest battered, his ageing heart beating against it like a marching band. He made to get up, but the Joker swept his feet out from under him. The former maniac sat on Batman’s chest, put the gun a couple inches above the horrified face, and pulled the trigger.

Tears filled his eyes as he walked away, but he wiped them and held his head high as he got into the chauffeur driven limousine that was waiting for him. He wiped off his make up carefully and changed out of the purple suit. Dark slacks and a fitted nude-striped shirt were offset by plain white sneakers, and he became a rich middle aged man about town trying to have a good time.

Essen sensed that something was amiss before the Joker’s signal went out. She ran into the dark bank. Her hands shook as she surveyed the scene in front of her.

She thought quickly, her mind moving faster than her feeble frame would allow.

Nobody had called it in, so she had time to do what had to be done.

“You, Conroy! With me. And you, Timms. The rest of you stay here and let me know as soon as the paramedics get here.”

Between them they hurriedly shrugged the cape, cowl and suit off the still warm body, and shoved them behind a counter. When there was no way of connecting Bruce Wayne to the Batman, she looked into her officers’ faces.

“One word of this gets out, and your careers, your lives as you know them, are over.”

The she raised her voice.

“Civilian down! Where is the damn paramedic!?”

The whispers started as the paramedics stretchered the still form out into the ambulance. Essen climbed in with the body and the vehicle moved swiftly through Gotham without its sirens. The Commissioner held a press conference as soon as she returned to the station. Bruce Wayne had been shot dead at point blank range earlier that evening. Police were exploring the possibility it was related to the sighting of the Joker symbol over Gotham earlier in the evening. Yes, the Joker had agreed to come in for questioning. No, there would be no further comments until a breakthrough was made in the investigation. As she hobbled back into the station, she wished for the first time in a long time that her husband was still alive. She considered calling Barbara, but they spoke too rarely to be any source of comfort to one another. She called Bullock instead. He’d been rough around the edges when he was an officer with her husband, but he was a good man, and one of the few whose corruption her husband had overlooked in favour of his other qualities. He lived on a farm outside Gotham these days, retired since Commissioner Gordon’s death. He picked up the phone on the first ring.

“Commissioner,”

“Harvey, did you see the press conference?”

He grunted dismissively.

“Wayne’s dead.”

Silence. Harvey Bullock had always been jealous of the Batman, unwilling to work with a vigilante but in awe of the undeniable effectiveness of his methods. He had grown to greatly respect the Batman, and one of the reasons he’d retired was the knowledge that the Batman was there to protect Gotham better than he ever could.

“I’m on my way,” he said, and hung up the phone.

Blood seeped from the deep gouges on Selina’s arm. In fairness, she had almost strangled Isis when she’d heard. The tears flowed freely down her face. After all this time, she still loved the Batman fiercely, and it was out of respect for him that she had stopped being Catwoman. He had paid her the courtesy of telling her he was going to take down Gotham’s criminals for good. She had laughed in his gorgeously sculpted face and then kissed it, but he hadn’t responded. It had been a matter of days later when the Joker had been sent to the Phantom Zone.

She picked up her phone. It emitted a whiny laugh that made her wince.

“Hey darlin’” Harley minced down the line.

“Harley, I think the Joker killed the Batman.”

For the first time in their shared existence, Harley Quinn spoke without a lilt to her voice.

“You’re kidding.”

“No. Bruce Wayne’s death was announced a few hours after the Joker’s signal went out over Gotham.”

“No. He wouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“That’s not how it works. He’d kill anyone close to Batman, but he’d never kill him. He wouldn’t have a reason to go on.”

Selina paused for a moment.

“What should we do?”

“You need to sit tight,” Harley replied. “I’m going down to Gotham PD to offer them my assistance. I know the Joker better than anyone, and if he’s guilty I can get him to tell me. Just seeing me will make his blood boil.”

“What about yours?”

“Excuse me?”

“Harley, I know what he did to you?”

“It’s Dr. Quinzel, and I know what he did as well. That’s why I don’t wear a fool’s costume anymore. I’m done being anyone’s idiot.”

“Be careful.”

Harley put her voice back on.

“I pwomise, puddin’”

Jerome Napier didn’t like to be called Jack. He liked the sound of Jerome. It was round. It rhymed with ‘home’. He couldn’t at this point remember what his real name was, and every time the psychiatrists who had spent years curing the Joker had tried to induce the memory, the psychosis returned. In the end they reminded him he’d once gone by the name Jack Napier, and he’d allowed them call him that. He much preferred Jerome though.

He was in the precinct now, explaining how he couldn’t possibly have killed Bruce Wayne to an enraged Harvey Bullock.

“You’re not even an officer anymore, Mr Bullock,” he said quietly, interrupting an invective filled rant. “I don’t have to answer your questions, and I don’t want to.”

Commissioner Essen walked in and chuckled mirthlessly.

“You will answer all our questions, Joker.”

Jerome winced at the name. He’d only killed the Batman to finally set himself free, and he felt more at peace than he had in years. He was mildly surprised to find out Bruce Wayne was Batman, but then again he’d always hated the rich fool just as much, so it was no real loss. It did kind of ruin the whole Dark Knight aesthetic for him though.

He mused silently, unimpressed and uninterested in the discussion around him. There was no way they could tie him to this. A copycat must have done it. He was cured.

“Talia!”

After seven centuries Ra’s still spoke with the clarity and authority of a well tuned bell. Talia turned away from Damian and faced her father.

“Yes, father?”

“What will you do?”

“What can I do?”

The Demon Head paused for a moment. He looked at his grandson with a glint in his eye and malice in his heart, and spoke quietly.

“The boy will go.”

“What?”

Damian hadn’t been paying much attention to anyone, lost in his own musings and uninterested in anything but himself. He didn’t want to go to Gotham and he didn’t want to see his father. He didn’t even want to be here.

“You will go to Gotham.”

“Why?

“To honour your father’s legacy.”

“I don’t care about...”

He’d forgotten about his grandfather’s formidable temper. In a flash he was on his back, a sword at his neck.

“You will not disrespect me. You will not question me. Your father, although I despised him greatly, was a man of honour and you will keep his name alive.”

“I am not Batman.”

“You are the Son of the Bat and the grandscion of the Demon Head. You are more than capable.”

His mother’s voice still sounded like smooth, rich syrup over ice cream. He stopped arguing and started thinking.

“My costume will be comfortable, and white. I will have horns. I will be at once angel and demon and bat.”

Ra’s could see the homage and the individuality, and he respected it. He had his personal costumier and technicians work with Damian and ordered them to get him ready within days. As the straight faced young man left with them, he spoke quietly to Talia.

“It’s about time the brat started to do something worthwhile.”

Talia smiled. She didn’t agree with the Demon Head’s reason, but her heart was heavy, and she could think of no better way to honour her beloved than what he had come up with. And having Damian out of the way would make it easier to bring Bruce back to her.

The Joker almost jumped out of his seat when Harley walked into the room.

Let’s rephrase that, since they’re both civilians now. Jerome almost jumped out of his seat when Dr Quinzel walked into the interrogation room.

“Harley?”

The question was at once pure incredulity and infinite scorn.

“Come to gloat have you?”

“Awww puddin’” she fawned sarcastically. “No I haven’t. I’m here to find out why you killed Batman.”

“Why? Not if?”

“Don’t play coy with me, Jack Napier.”

He longed to wrap his hands around that neck and squeeze it till it snapped. How dare she gather the nerve to be anything but obsequious to him. He looked in her beautiful eyes and it hit him. She wasn’t asking him if he did it because she knew. He may have twisted her all ends up and played on her emotions to an incredible degree, but she was still a clinically trained psychiatrist, and she’d studied him for years.

“It’s the only way I can be free, Dr Quinzel.”

For the first time since he’d become the Joker, he realised that by killing the Batman he’d acknowledged that the game was over and he’d been beaten. He spoke then. He spoke about how he only wanted to be left alone, how he was tired of everything and everybody. He didn’t regret what he’d done, but he wasn’t that person anymore - or at least he didn’t want to be. How else could he prove to himself that he wasn’t the Joker anymore? The Joker would never have killed the Batman - it would be suicide. Harley let him finish and smiled.

Selina helped Talia because she didn’t know what else to do. Everyone else seemed useful. Harley had gotten a full confession out of the Joker, Bullock had started working with the new White Bat to keep the streets of Gotham safe, the Commissioner had taken Arkham in hand and the Joker was in a secure unit having the last vestiges of the Clown Prince stripped away. When Talia had come to her to ask her to rob Bruce Wayne’s grave, it had seemed disgusting and disrespectful, but it had given her something to do other than mope and nurse her broken heart.

Getting past the police stationed to control the crowds that had gathered every day since the murder was the easy part. She had considered putting on the old Catwoman costume, but even though she was still the same size she had been all those years ago, it didn’t feel right. She had squeezed into a comfortable pair of jeans and a turtleneck sweater, and she looked just like any other mourner. She had taken advantage of an understandable lapse in concentration to slip past the patrol and eased herself down into the Wayne Family crypt. Talia joined her a few moments later, and they made short work of opening the ornately carved coffin. When they emerged with the body, she noticed a neat pile of uniformed officers leaning against a nearby tree. She chuckled and looked over at her employer, who shrugged. A sudden gust of wind brought her back to the present, and the grin slid right off her face.

This was Bruce Wayne’s body they were carrying, the man both of them had loved above any other. The man both of them had loved not as the playboy billionaire philanthropist, but as Gotham’s gruff, taciturn guardian of the night. She knew Bruce and Batman would both disapprove of being brought back by the Lazarus Pit, but she was as desperate as Talia to see his face again, to smirk at him knowing her insistence on being Catwoman drove him crazy.

The drive to Gotham Airport was uneventful. They picked Harley up from the precinct and flew straight for Nanda Parbat.

Ra’s was expecting them, and did not try to stop them, only warning them that as the Batman had killed in his career and had lived in the darkness, his madness would be severe.

Four of his maidens prepared Bruce Wayne’s corpse for the ritual. He was anointed with healing and soothing oils, swathed in the rich black and gold cloth that only high ranking League of Assassins members were permitted to fashion into robes, and placed on a quickly assembled wooden platform.

“This part of the process is often harrowing to those who have loved the resurrected,” Ra’s warned. The three women looked at him, unmoving. He shrugged and raised his hands. The maidens disappeared, and four pallbearers took their place. They hoisted the platform on broad shoulders and walked over to the gently bubbling pit. Ra’s lowered his hands, and they lowered the platform carefully into the pit, careful not to touch the surface of the water. The Bat’s body lay just beneath the surface, and the water churned around him. Greens and reds erupted around him as the baleful life giving force made its way into his body.

All of a sudden the churning stopped. Bruce lay still, still just beneath the water, a beatific smile of his face. Moments passed, moments that seemed like aeons to the women. Talia had seen this before - with her own father - so she knew it was only a matter of time. Selina’s perfectly manicured nails were tearing into the leather of her jacket as she hugged herself.

“Nothing’s happening!”

Harley’s whisper was urgent, worried. She didn’t care much for the Batman, but it had been Bruce Wayne who had made it possible for her to return to her career after decades as the Joker’s accomplice. Even as Batman he had treated her with more dignity and respect than the maniac she had loved.

He only ever tried to stop me from hurting people

The revelation hit her hard, and her eyes opened in shock. The man she had antagonised for most of her adult life had consistently avoided hurting her and she had paid him no notice whatsoever.

Lost in her thoughts, she missed the moment when Bruce emerged from the pit. His leap landed him directly on on of Ra’s men, who stood no chance against the man Ra’s himself had trained. In a second a neck snapped loudly, and Bruce was crouched like a panther, ready to pounce on anyone. His jet black hair was streaked grey at the sides, his eyes wild and menacing, full of a cunning none of the women had seen in Batman. His smile was cruel and taunting.

The remaining three men jumped on Bruce. It was the last thing any of them did. Free of the usual restraint the Batman showed, the deranged person before them murdered the men with devastating efficiency. He stood up, his back still arched, and approached the women.

Ra’s, who had watched impassively from a nearby doorway, pounced. Sensing an equal, Feral Bruce stalked.

“That’s it,” Ra’s taunted as they circled one another.

Talia, quite sensibly, poked a syringe in Bruce’s neck as he passed her, and pushed the plunger as he turned to face her. He managed one wildly aimed slap that she easily avoided before he crumpled to the floor unconscious.

After Jerome Napier’s confession was made public, his trial became a bit of a circus. He was glad he hadn’t laid eyes on Harley since that night. She had gotten under his skin the way only she could - made him admit murder, and would probably be the reason he went away for a long, long time.

He chuckled at the thought. Funny enough, he felt no malice towards her. He no longer wanted to wring her throat and laugh at her as she suffocated under his ministrations. He was at peace.

I killed the Batman. The game is over. I’ve lost, but so has he, and so has Gotham.

Me.

The Jovial Conniver Commonly Called the Joker.

He laughed out loud, and someone in an adjoining cell yelled at him to shut up.

He laughed louder, elevating the hearty laugh to the chilling tone all of Gotham knew only too well.

Silence.

It was good to know people still had a little respect.

Three months.

That’s how long it took Harley, Talia and Selina to restore Bruce’s sanity. They weren’t helped by the fact he was furious at them for raising him. He almost killed Harley when she remarked drily that he could at least be thankful for a second chance.

“I’ve never seen him so serene,” she said after rubbing her neck for a few moments. “It’s weird.”

Her comment about Bruce had only been a response to a fresh bout of anger. He’d stormed into the room raging at Talia and Selina for subjecting him to the Lazarus Pit, interrupting Harley mid flow. She’d snapped at his rudeness more than anything.

“I’m sorry,” said Bruce.

“Not you.”

“Napier?”

“Yes. It seems the Joker has finally found peace in your death.”

Bruce sat quietly.

Not many people knew how to contact the League of Assassins, and even fewer could get a direct link to the inner chambers. When one of Ra’s men walked into Bruce’s room with a small, inauspicious looking phone, he knew who it would be.

“Damian.”

“Father.”

“How’s Gotham?”

“Father, the Joker helped me bring in Hubert Cobblepot and Edward Nigma, Jr.”

“What?”

“He worked extensively with and against their parents, so when they tried to hold the city to ransom as a sort of trial for me, Jerome Napier asked to see me.”

“And you went to him.”

“I’m not you, father. I have no personal agenda against him. If he has one against me, he hides it well. He didn’t lie to me once - you know I can tell.”

“And he helped you crack the case.”

“Wide open, as they say.”

Bruce let out a long, low whistle. This was a turn of events he hadn’t expected. Still...

“Did he help you as the Joker, or as Napier?”

“Both.” There was a familiar smirk in the younger Wayne’s voice. “He refuses to be addressed as the Joker, but he takes great pleasure in ruining people’s plans - only now he’s targeting criminals.”

“Hmmmmm...”

“I have to go. I merely thought this might interest you.”

“It does. Goodbye, Son.”

“Bye dad,” Damian said with an exaggerated flourish.

It was safe to say they didn’t have the best relationship.

When Bruce asked Harley to go with him on a trip around the world, Selina and Talia nearly lost it. He needed them to keep an eye on the Joker and Damian, and he needed Harley to keep an eye on his mind. If there were any other reasons, he kept them to himself.

#batman #fan fiction #fanfic #the joker #harley quinn #catwoman #talia al ghul

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3195c · 4 years ago

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Scott Snyder On ‘Death Of The Family': ‘It’s A Love Letter To Batman From The Joker’

2012.11.29

ComicsAlliance: With the clean break that you got from the New 52 relaunch, was there ever a desire to completely reinvent the Joker when you brought him back?

Scott Snyder : It’s interesting because I feel like he’s a character that you do reinvent every time that you take him on as a new writer. There wasn’t really an impulse to change his origin, whatever that origin may be, or reinvent him physically in a huge way — at least on my part. But there was the idea that if we took him on, I wanted to have a really specific take on him that was different than what Grant [Morrison] had done with him or what Tony [Daniel] had done with him, or anybody else recently. There definitely is that impetus with a lot of these characters that if you’re going to take them on, you better have a way of doing it that’s going to be your own and different, or you might as well not touch them.

CA: One of the things that I noticed reading through “Death of the Family” so far is that he’s a very horror movie type of villain. He’s a very scary Joker.

SS : He is very scary.

CA: More than usual, which is quite a bit! Was that where you wanted to go with the Joker? Did you want to do a more horror-style take?

SS : Yeah. For me it’s less the idea of him being graphically horrific or explicitly horrific and more about being psychologically and emotionally horrific. I really got my first taste of writing him while I was working on Detective Comics , and I got to do an issue with him. In that issue, you can’t ever see his face. He’s restrained and he has a mask over his face, he can’t even move. So he doesn’t do anything like he does in our story now, he’s just kind of a voice in the dark, but writing him there was so exhilarating because he was so terrifying with the things he says to you.

I knew the take that I would have here was really that same kind of Joker unleashed. To me, what’s so scary about him isn’t even the physical things he would do — those are horrific too and there’s plenty of them coming in Batman — but it’s the fact that he seems to know your worst fears about yourself, and he knows how to convince you that they’re true. He can look at somebody like Harvey Bullock, and this is coming up in issue #15. He has a two-panel interaction with him, and the things he can say to Harvey can level Harvey and make him pause, this hardened cop, and not know what to do. Almost paralyze him with fear, but of himself. In that way, the Joker’s kind of the Devil’s tongue in our series. In that way, he’s very scary and horrific. He looks at Batman and says “I know what your worst fear is about yourself, and it’s true, and I’m here to deliver it and celebrate it with you.”

That fear is essentially in our story that deep down, what Batman wants is the Batman Family dead. It’s a really personal story. It’s probably the most personal story I’ve done so far at DC. As the father of young kids, the story comes from that kind of impulse where you wish for a moment that you could stop worrying about them and go back to the way it was before you had kids. Even though you love them to death and would never want to change the decisions you made to have them, you just wish you could have some refuge from two minutes from worrying about them. The Joker hears that. He says “I heard what you said, you want your family dead.” Batman’s like “No, I didn’t say that, I didn’t think that,” and the Joker says, “Yes you did, you just won’t admit it. I heard it in your head.”

He can read him that way, and in that way he’s deeply, deeply horrific and nightmarish. But I don’t think of him so much as a horror movie villain. He’s a force of primal horror.

CA: I’ve written before about how there’s a very strong family aspect right at the core of Batman, from his origin story to becoming this patriarch of this Batman Family. Obviously, the story’s called “Death of the Family,” so that seems to be the aspect you’re playing with. It’s really interesting that this is the source of weakness, that the family is Batman’s vulnerability.

SS : What the Joker does is he takes something you’re proud of about yourself and convinces you that your worst fears about it are true and that it’s a weakness. It’s the way he comes after every member of the Family in their respective books. He’ll come after Dick Grayson and essentially say, “Your problem is that you need people in your life. You’re weak because of that.” But that’s not really a weakness, that’s a strength of Dick Grayson: his sense of empathy and compassion and the friendships and relationships that he builds in his life. But the Joker’s very good at making you believe that that’s what makes you incapable of winning against him.

So what Joker’s saying here is, “You built this family and it will always cause you to lose. You can get ahead of me, you can catch me, but as long as I have Damian right here, or as long as I have Dick over here, I’ll always win. You’ll never beat me.” So it’s a weakness. But is it a weakness, or is it a sign of growth and maturity and strength? That’s the Joker’s game.

CA: The title being a reference to Batman: A Death in the Family stuck out as well along those same lines. We always sort of categorize that as “Batman’s greatest loss,” the death of the second Robin, Jason Todd. That’s the one time he loses.

SS : Right.

CA: Was that something you wanted to get back? This sense of Batman, this unstoppable crimefighter, being in danger of losing through his family?

SS : Very much. Part of the idea is that what Joker is saying is that as long as you love, as long as you love people in the world more than you love being Batman — and being Batman at its core, to the Joker, is about fighting him; it’s about being the Bat-King of Gotham with your enemies, who are really your allies who keep you strong; as the King, as long as you pretend that, you will always be vulnerable — you will always be weak, and you will always lose.

I really wanted to have this story where I go into Bruce’s emotional trajectory more deeply than in any other story. The way that he feels, what he says to Alfred. This is the one that, for me, is really cutting him as close to the bone as I can, personally. It’s supposed to be emotionally and psychologically harrowing for him from the word go, and the fact that Alfred’s missing and we don’t know what’s happening to him really cuts Batman’s nerves raw for every moment that this story goes on.

CA: Going back and reading through the story so far, it seems to be a grand tour of the Joker’s Greatest Hits. You’ve got the references to Death in the Family in the title; the setup involved references to The Man Who Laughs with the chemical factory and the reservoir; there was the awesome, super-creepy scene with Harley re-enacting the Red Hood story. What was the reason behind revisiting all of those elements?

SS : I wanted it to be a story where the Joker is forcing Batman down a twisted version of memory lane, saying, “I know you loved these adventures we had together.” In some ways, I’ve tried to play this idea of the Joker as Peter Pan a little bit. Even when he says, “Hello, darling,” the Darling family is the family in Peter Pan. He says in issue #13, “I’m knocking at your window looking for my old shadow.”

Really, what the Joker’s trying to say to him is that it was better before. “You were thrilled by me. You won’t admit it, but you love that I came along to help you be stronger, to fuel your fantasy, and you do that for me, too. Together, we’re more of a family than any of these people.” In that way, the trip down memory lane was really meant as a kind of love letter to Batman from the Joker, even though those things were inverted. He’s not really acting them out in the same way that he did those crimes the first time, he has these horrible twists on them.

And in having the horrible twists, he’s saying something to Batman, which is, “You have forsaken your own kingdom. It’s been rotting from the inside for the past couple of years, and I am here to be a corrective to that.” The reason the crimes are inverted is to show that this is the place where rivers run backwards and two-headed beasts are born, and the whole city is wrong because Batman essentially can’t man up and be the King he’s supposed to be, and admit that the people sitting at his table are a false royal court, convincing him that he’s human and tender and soft when he’s not. “You’re supposed to be sharp and strong, and that’s why I fell in love with you in the first place.”

CA: You talked about the relationship between Joker and Batman, and between Joker and Dick Grayson. How do you see him fitting in with the other characters? What are the views he has of them?

SS: I think he views them all with incredible disdain in general, just thinking that they have caused his king to become fat, soft and weak — in his opinion. Individually, I think he’s been accumulating ammunition against them for the past year. He’s seen everything that’s happened in their stories from offstage. There’s nobody that’s safe in any of those books from him coming after them. Individually, he can eyeball you for about a minute and figure out what you’re afraid of about yourself, so he’s coming after them with a very strong notion of each of them being a certain thing.

For Dick Grayson, again, it’s that his compassion is his weakness. For Damian, he really believes that his devotion to Batman as a child is this incredible vulnerability and weakness, and that he pulls Batman down by convincing him that he really loves some child who follows him around like a son.

For Batgirl, what he finds amusing about her, which you’ll see in Batgirl , is essentially that she considers herself a survivor and takes pride in that in some way. Whether he thinks she’s Barbara Gordon or not, that’s part of the mystery and I don’t want to give it away, but what he comes after her openly about is that there’s something worse in the surviving of a terrible incident, because you get to the other side and it’s supposed to be better, and he’s going to teach her how that’s so untrue.

Jason, of course, he obviously has a very, very personal history with. And Tim as well. He comes after them in a very intimate way. The idea is that he’s looked at them and found them wanting, and he has a very specific take on them that cuts to the heart of what they’re afraid of about themselves. The kind of challenges he’s going to throw their way and the kind of nightmares he’s going to put them through really are meant to speak to those fears immediately.

CA: What about Bruce Wayne?

SS: Well, Bruce Wayne is a whole other thing. It depends on what you believe. If you believe the Joker knows who they are and you believe that he’s coming after them because he’s figured it out, then he has very specific feelings about Bruce Wayne. On the other hand, if you believe Bruce, who says Joker can’t have figured it out, or that he won’t, or that he hasn’t figured it out for reasons that he’s still keeping close to his chest in some way, then you’d assume he has no feelings about Bruce Wayne, or very small feelings.

I’d say you have to wait and see with that one.

https://comicsalliance.com/batman-death-of-the-family-scott-snyder-interview/

#2012 #Scott Snyder #Greg Capullo #New 52 #Comic

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bat-losers-inc · 5 years ago

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Place of Ruins

Summary: Tim Drake is much changed from the boy that Ra's al Ghul remembers him to be and Ra's likes to believe that he played a large role in his creation, for better or worse. Or: Ra's uses the death and resurrection of Damian Wayne as an ruse to tempt Tim again. Tim has other plans. // Set four years after Collisions in the Dark.

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR “COLLISIONS IN THE DARK”, power dynamics, unrequited lust, non-consensual kissing.

Pairings: Tim Drake/Jason Todd, Tim Drake/Ra’s al Ghul, Tim Drake & Nyssa Al Ghul

Notes: Just something I couldn't get out of my head. The idea that Ra's and Tim would meet again but this time without the power imbalance of the previous fic. Now they're almost equals, but their mind games with each other still continue.

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Taklamakan Desert

18 mi South of Hotan, Xinjiang

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Ra’s waited a good distance from the cave’s mouth in patient silence, content to make his presence known only at the right moment. Better to let his prey come out on his own than try flushing him out with force and risk losing him in the dark tunnels that twisted and forked inside the caves of this region. Ra’s had learned that lesson the hard way the first time and it had cost him nearly everything.

Besides, he very much doubted that his prey would be caught unaware. If he’d risk coming to this place, practically on the back door of the Demon Head’s domain, without anticipating the risk of discovery then he was not the boy Ra’s remembered him to be. Ra’s almost would have been angry at such a brazen move if it hadn’t killed two of his birds with one stone.

Ah, speaking of birds…

Ra’s stepped down from the dry craggy perch that had served as his observation point as two figures— a man and woman— emerged from the cave’s mouth and into the sweeping desert dunes: dyed a dark blue as the sun slipped below the jagged rock face that towered high above them.

His second daughter Nyssa was much the same as he remembered her; bellicose and as severe in personality as she was in dress with her loose tunic, pants, and long spear rested across her muscled shoulder blades. Since his previous run in with her, she’d continued to evade his attempts to root her out and finish her off for good. Despite how much Ra’s wished to put a sword in her, instead he held back— contenting himself for now with the knowledge of learning her most recent hideout— and focused his attention on the more important prize standing beside her.

Four years had changed Timothy from a eighteen year old boy into a man of twenty two and as far as Ra’s could see it had only enhanced every quality that he’d first found enthralling about him. The day or more of wandering the edges of the Taklamakan desert in search of Nyssa had tanned his skin to a light copper that highlighted the outlines of his muscled arms— a feature of Tim’s that Ra’s had never before appreciated.

He couldn’t stand by a moment longer.

Tim turned sharply at the sound of his footsteps, hand jumping to the dagger handle that rested against his hip. A Uyghur knife. Ra’s noted the locally crafted weapon with interest for he’d never known Tim to fight with a blade in all his years of closely following the boy. Was this a new development with his young detective? He couldn’t deny the temptation to provoke him to a fight, if only to see how he handled the blade and relish in how easy it would be to overpower him.

But Timothy held back and even threw out an arm against Nyssa as she swung her spear around with a hissed curse and the intention of stepping in front of him. His detective fixed Ra’s with his eyes, pale blue beneath the dark headscarf that blocked the ever-whirling sands.

“Ra’s.”

Ra’s smiled. “Hello, Timothy,” His gaze flickered over his daughter half heartedly. “Nyssa.”

Tim half turned to Nyssa, unwilling to pull his full gaze away from Ra’s. Smart boy.

“You can go. I’ll handle him.”

Ra’s smile widened. Oh? You’re going to handle me, are you?

Nyssa seemed to be debating if she cared enough to argue this point. Ra’s decided to help her with her decision. “Yes, run along, Nyssa. Perhaps Timothy will buy you enough time to flee with you life.”

Nyssa growled at that, her grip shifting on her spear, but in the end she retreated back into the depths of the cave mouth with a respectful nod over her shoulder to Tim.

Tim watched her go, but Ra’s quickly put at end to that. He struck out as Tim’s back was turned, grasping him by the chin and twisted him around harshly into an equally bruising kiss. It lasted no more than the briefest of moments as the younger boy’s hands came up immediately and shoved him off. But like a starved man Ra’s pressed his attack. Tim had barely retreated back a step before Ra’s caught him by the back of the neck and yanked him forward until he stood chest to chest with him, interlocking his fingers at the base of his head to keep him there. Tim gripped one of his wrists and arched his head away from Ra’s questing lips.

“Let go,” Tim snarled. Ra’s chuckled at the hostility radiating off the boy like heat and chose to ignore it like the useless show it was.

“Ah-ah,” Ra’s pushed Tim’s head back to face forward with the heel of one hand. “I want to see you. Don’t you want to see me, Timothy? After all, it’s been so long.”

He yanked Tim’s headscarf down around his neck. “Now, that’s better.”

Tim spat in his face. Ra’s blinked once, his anger flashing as he felt the saliva slide down his cheek. Still he checked his emotions… after all it wouldn’t serve to let his anger get the better of him when he had his prize in hand. He used Tim’s scarf to wipe up the mess and rewarded the boy’s slight with a heated kiss that had him twisting to break free by the time he pulled away.

“Stop,” Tim hissed.

“Make me,” Ra’s breathed against his cheek. “Or do you even want me to? Coming here without that stupid little shit you call a boyfriend to defend your honor. You’re practically begging for it, aren’t you, Beloved?”

Fire lanced up Ra’s body as Tim reached across his body and pulled his knife, slashing him backhanded across his midsection before flipping the knife and coming back with a downward arc to his legs that Ra’s only narrowly retreated from. He pressed a hand to his bleeding torso, breathing heavy as he glared back at the younger man for the move was iconically in the style of the Red Hood.

“You little bitch.”

The wound wasn’t deep, just enough to make a point.

“I don’t need Jason to defend me. I can do that just fine by myself. ” said Tim, wiping the blade off on his pant leg before resheathing it. “So, please tell me again how I’m ‘begging for it’, and see what the next thing I cut is.”

Ra’s dropped his hand and followed after him as he turned and made his way up the dunes, back the way he’d come. The dune buggy he’d used to travel to the caves from the main highway was parked a quarter of a mile off where the dunes gave way to the rugged mountainous landscape around Hotan. Ra’s stared at his back as they walked that distance— the loose shoulder and casual stride— not a trace of tension in his form. Four years of being hunted had made the boy fearless in the defense of his person. Ra’s would give him that. Gone was the boy that hid behind Batman’s cape when the full power of the league and all it’s assassins were thrown at him.

“When did he teach you to use a blade? I’ve never seen you fight with one before.”

Tim stopped and glanced over his shoulder, his dark hair blowing against his face in the strong winds. “That’s because you’ve never gotten close enough for me to need it. Dip yourself in your lazarus pit all you want, a few years of youthfulness still won’t make you strong enough to overtake me.”

Ra’s repeated attacks against him, Jason’s murder, the psychological manipulations… all of it had only served to hone him like a fine blade and now he was ready to cut back. Ra’s was as much his creator as Batman was.

Ra’s smiled. “Never say never, my dear. The day may come when you or some other member of your family needs my assistance, and trust me when I say that I’ll take as much as I can get from your indebtedness. Each year you spend evading me racks up quite a lot of interest to collect on. It might be in your best interest to make a few minor repayments while you can… two nights a year— or even just one… I’m open to negotiating. And poor little Jason never has to know.”

Tim walked back towards him, eying him critically. “And I suppose sending the Heretic to murder Damian was your way of setting up the board for these ‘negotiations’, wasn’t it?”

Ra’s frowned with mock sorrow. “The poor boy, to be cut down so young. I hear that Bruce is devastated… that he’d do anything to bring back his son.”

Tim’s eyes were icy. “You’re a snake. Bruce won’t ever ask you for help after what you’ve done to me… what you’ve done to this family. And for the record, I’m not here to ask you either.”

“Then why, dear Detective, are you here?”

“Because I owe Damian a debt for what he did for me all those years ago. Because my fucked up history with you means that I’m the only one who can make this trip with a modicum of assured safety— if only because of what you want from me. And because you’re not the only person I know with access to a Lazarus pit.”

“Nyssa,” growled Ra’s, turning sharply to look back towards the caves.

Tim stepped up behind Ra’s’ shoulder. Ra’s could practically hear the smile behind his words. “I think I gave her enough time to flee, don’t you? And with the comm link I passed off to her, I have a feeling that by the time you track her down again, we’ll already have Damian back with us. Once again, Ra’s. You lose.”

Ra’s laughed. “Yes, maybe so, but you’re wrong about one thing, Detective. Safe isn’t a word I’d use to describe our interactions, especially when you’re this close to me and so very far from home. I know what you like, no matter how much you try to deny it, and it’s something that Jason Todd can never give you. You’ll never be truly satisfied with a man who gives into you so easily.”

“Maybe, but just because I want something, doesn’t mean it’s good for me.”

“I’m not in the business of being good for you. And like the snake that I am, I’ll always be around to tempt you.”

Tim stared off across the dark dunes and let the silence stretch between them for awhile. Finally he spoke.

“I know something about you as well, Ra’s. You’ve always loved the hunt far more than you’ve ever loved keeping me. If I didn’t fight you, I’d be boring. I’d be just like all the rest. You don’t want a successor to you empire. You want a worthy opponent. And it’s for that exact reason that I know you’re going to let me leave here tonight.”

“Mmm. You do make an extraordinary opponent, Timothy.”

Tim pulled his headscarf back over his face. “Until the next round, Ra’s.”

Ra’s stood and watched him as he climbed in his vehicle and disappeared into the distance. Yes, he thought to himself with an eager yearning he couldn’t put into words, until the next round. I’ve got my eye on the prize.

#tim drake #Ra's al Ghul #ra'stim #ra's al ghul/tim drake #jason todd (mentioned)#Jason Todd/Tim Drake (mentioned)#post-collisions in the dark #collisions in the dark #collisions in the dark spoilers #power dynamics #tw noncon kissing #tw unhealthy relationship #tw unrequited lust #nyssa al ghul

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haleyreads4you · 5 years ago

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No Laughing Matter

Why Gotham’s Crown Prince of Crime Doesn’t Deserve a Backstory

If you haven’t heard, DC is releasing a new live action movie entitled The Joker, scheduled to be released on October 4th later this year. The movie is supposed to take us on a journey to see the beginning of this notorious villain, and hopefully give a better understanding on why he is the way he is. Usually this is fantastic! Villains, bad guys, antagonist, whatever you call them, are always so much more interesting when you get to see the reasoning behind their actions, and after all the Joker has done, who wouldn’t want to know. The short answer, is me.

The longer answer, (which I’m about to give you,) is that honestly, no real DC or Batman fan should want to see a Joker backstory. Believe it or not, he actually has one already, and I promise you it’s not going to be the one you see in the movie. It simply isn’t that complex. If you can’t tell, I am a huge DC, (especially the Batfam,) fan, and if you’re not that’s okay! I’m honestly shocked if you read this far without being a DC fan. Nonetheless, I’m going to be giving as much background as I possibly can to flush out my points throughout this, so you don’t have to possess prior knowledge. Now, I will not claim to be an expert on DC, or Batman, and especially not on the Joker himself, but I do like to think I know quite a bit. That being said, if I miss something, or get the facts wrong, feel free to refute me! A huge point of all these dumb essays I’m writing is to get the conversation going! Now with all the logistics and introductions out of the way, here’s why I think the Joker doesn’t deserve his own movie (or back story.)

The Joker is arguably the most famous of Batman’s rogues. With countless reiterations, and big name stars playing him in adaptation after adaptation, it’s no wonder that he’s built up a name for himself. Not only that, but the Joker is one villain whose actions we simply can’t explain. We know Two-Face, AKA Harvey Dent, was seriously disfigured after a man he prosecuted threw acid on his face, destroying his lucky coin in the process. The incident made him crazy, and he wrecks havoc on the city with his destroyed coin asking people “heads or tails?” We know Mr. Freeze, AKA Victor Fries, became a criminal after a failed attempt to save his terminally ill wife left him with sub-zero body temperatures, forcing him to wear the cryo suit forever. His involvement with crime is him still attempting to raise funds to find a cure for her. We know one of my personal favorites, Scarecrow, AKA Dr. Jonathan Crane, an ex psychology professor at Gotham University remains obsessed with the idea of fear and phobias. He now uses the citizens of Gotham as his lab rats to test his ever evolving fear toxin. I could keep going on, (Batman has an impressive rogue gallery,) but the point is we know why all the villains do the things that they do. We don’t know that for the Joker, and out of all of Batman’s rogues, he’s the one that continues to commit the most heinous crimes of all. It leaves us all asking why? Why does he do the things he does? It even leaves Batman stumped. Heck, it leaves other villians stumped!! Ra’s Al Ghul, head of the League of Shadows, has said he doesn’t like working with the Joker, because he’s wild and unpredictable. According to this logic, the Joker should be first in line to get his own back story.

To find the reason why he shouldn’t we have to look pretty far back in this character’s history. When the Joker first appeared in the Batman comics, he never appeared simply as “the Joker.” Multiple iterations of this simplistic “backstory” have been done, and can also be seen as far back as Batman: Year One, (even though the “Joker” himself is not actually featured,) but each time the Joker always appears, it is always first as an unassuming lowlife calling himself “the Red Hood.” This is so freaking important to how the Joker impacts the characters around him, and I’ll tell you why soon, but I can almost guarantee you it is not going to be in the new Joker film. Not only is this Red Hood portion of the Joker’s career important for reasons to be later explained, but it’s also important that in multiple, though not all, iterations of the Joker’s introduction it’s Batman’s fault. Not inherently of course. Batman always catches the Red Hood in some kind of factory, (a popular location is a playing card factory,) and in an attempt to catch him, the Red Hood always ends up falling into a vat of acid. This is the vat of acid that of course warps his appearance, (the white skin, green hair, and red lips,) and what ultimately drives him mad. In how he actually gets in the vat, well sometimes he jumps on purpose, because he’s been cornered by the Bat, sometimes he just slips, and Bruce is too late to catch him, but either way it’s always something that weighs on Bruce. It’s another reason on top of Batman’s no kill policy that he can’t bring himself to end the Joker. Despite paralyzing Barbra Gordon as Batgirl and murdering his son, Bruce can’t end the Joker, because he partly feels like the Joker is his fault. It’s his mess that he made, and a mess that he has to fix.

This introduction of the Joker as the Red Hood and tying his creation to a young emerging Batman is so important to the characters’ relationships to each other throughout their still changing course of comic history, that to negate it with this upcoming movie is almost like recreating a brand new villain. It is also important to note that because the Joker started out as a masked criminal, he remains a John Doe to this very day in comic history. This is crucial to not understanding the Joker, (an important aspect of his character,) because any time a new rogue pops up, Bruce tries his damndest to learn their real identity. Identifying the person beneath the horror helps him better know what angle to work at when going up against them, as well as what to look for, and realizing that violence usually isn’t the best answer for dealing with them. By keeping the Joker a John Doe, it keeps not only us, the audience, in the dark about trying to understand this psychotic character, but the characters in universe in the dark as well. By not knowing the Joker’s past or intentions, it actually makes him scarier, because it leaves him unpredictable, and, in a sense, strips him of his humanity. By giving this character an actual identity, you destroy the mysterious unknown behind the character, make him human enough than an audience can relate to him, and almost, in a sense, strip him of what makes him a good villain in the first place.

Now my last, and what I personally view as one of the most important reasons, on why the Joker really shouldn’t have his own movie, is because it would destroy his tragically beautiful connection to Jason Todd. If you missed it earlier, I briefly mentioned that the Joker killed Bruce’s son, and that was because I planned to go more in depth now.

I need to stop referencing material that hasn’t been written yet. If you don’t know, Jason Todd is the second character to take on the mantle of Robin. Yes, there was more than one Robin. As of current day material, there are four officially recognized holders of the mantle, (sorry Stephanie,) in the order of Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Timothy Drake, and the current only blood son of Burce, Damian Wayne. Jason was taken in by Bruce off of Crime Alley, after he was found trying to steal the cars off of the Batmobile. Officially adopting him as his own and taking him under his wing, Bruce soon hands the mantle of Robin to Jason as Dick had recently left, and the two take to the streets fighting crime and punching bad guys. Unfortunately, this doesn’t last very long, and Jason ends up beaten nearly to death by the Joker with a crowbar in an abandoned warehouse before the Joker blows it up, seconds before Bruce arrives. Oh no. (There’s a very iconic picture of Bruce holding Jason’s dead body, if you google “batman a death in the family.) This was an absolutely pivotal part to Bruce’s character. How Bruce acts after the death of Jason had been unseen before. He became violent and angry, and almost crossed the line he swore to himself he’d never cross. Jason’s death is a staple in DC comic lore.

That isn’t the important part here though. The important part is what comes after. See, 95% of the time, if a character dies in the DC Universe, it’s not for very long, because comics. A couple of years later, Jason is brought back to life via the Lazarus Pit with the help of the League of Assassins. As I’m writing this, it is one in the morning, and I am too tired to explain why the Shadows were involved. If you’re really interested, there’s a crap ton of information on it on wikis and stuff, so it won’t be hard to find. Anyways, Jason comes back to life really messed up and in a murderous rage. He heads back to Gotham to hunt down Bruce but this time not as Jason Todd, not as Robin, but as the Red Hood. It’s perfect cinematic poetry! Yes, cinematic!! Under the Red Hood is one of the most famous comic books about Jason Todd’s return, as well as arguably one of the best DC animated films of all time! But that’s not the point. The point is, that Jason Todd comes back from the dead, and the alias he takes up is the same alias that his killer once owned. Jason does eventually kind of come back to the “good side” as a sort of anti hero, but the parallels between him and the Joker are gorgeous. Both driven mad after being thrown into a vat of mysterious liquid, except for where it was the Joker’s before, it’s Jason’s after. The idea of a young boy being beaten to death, only to come back and take the name of his killer should shake you to your core. Not only that, but imagine Bruce’s horror when he realizes there’s another terror ripping through his city bearing the same name his arch nemesis first wore. And that’s before he even realizes it’s his resurrected son! You can’t dismiss writing like that, especially when it comes to comic books! DC especially, openly admitted that its story lines take place in the multiverse, which basically means anything goes. That’s where you get stories like The Flashpoint Paradox and Crisis on Two Earths. The fact that this idea of the Red Hood being passed down from the Joker to Jason seems to be a universal constant cannot be overlooked. By giving the Joker a more in depth backstory that strays from the one that currently exists, you rip that hard work out of the author’s hands, as well as destroy an impactful connection between some of the Batman Universe’s best and most complex characters.

This whole thing ended up being a lot longer than I anticipated, so thank you if you made it to the end. All of this being said, I stand by my opinion that out of all that characters in the DC universe, the Joker should be at the end of the line to get his own movie. Will I still end up seeing it in theatres? The jury’s out right now. I’m a broke college kid living in New York; there are more things I want to see than a movie I don’t think should exist. I might watch it one day, as the assumption that all of these points won’t be made in the movie is made purely off of the trailers and not the content of the film itself. If I ever do watch it, y’all will be the first to know, but until then this is where I stand. Don’t let this ruin the film for you if you planned on going to go watch it. Like stated in the beginning, these are all my own opinions, and I prefer the comics to the movies. The movies can also be seen as existing in their own realm, and in that case none of my points stand at all. It’s up to you to make your own judgement.

But ask yourself this, as you sit down in the theatre with a large tub of popcorn. What do you think people will benefit from trying to see into the mind of the one of the world’s most famous psychopath?

#personal opinions

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redrobinfection · 6 years ago

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I’ll Be There

AN: A gift for @chibinightowl in (belated) celebration of her birthday. Hope this is all you hoped it would be, more even (and not too over the top, at that! =_=;) ❤ Happy Birthday!

WARNING: This is hard-core emotional hurt/comfort. This gets really dark, really introspective, and really, really psychologically unhealthy in places. There is a lot of self-blame being tossed around; there are some panic attacks and near panic attacks; there is a lot of discussion of past canon character death(s), claustrophobia, and mortality on the whole. I had to go to a very deep, dark place inside myself to write sections of this. So, if any of that sounds like it might upset you or set off your own emotional spiral, turn around RIGHT NOW and go read something fluffier. I've written plenty of physical hurt/comfort with fluffy fluff at the end, not to mention the tons of pure fluff, so take your pick and stay safe, my friends.

---

Jason's laughter over Dick's latest exploits - teaching Damian to make rice crispy treats - dims faster than Tim was expecting and he stiffens slightly beside him on the couch. Tim looks up from his tablet. "What's up?"

Jason's fingers are frozen over the pull-down menu on his phone and he is staring intensely at the screen. Tim leans in and quickly reads over the message Damian sent, but what he finds isn't alarming enough to warrant the grim cast of Jason's expression and the tension Tim can feel radiating off of him in waves.

"It's almost April," is all Jason replies, tone curiously flat.

Tim glances down at the date. Saturday, 27 March. "Yeah, wha-" he begins then cuts off abruptly as it hits him; the 27th... April… April 27th, the day Jason died just over ten years ago. He sobers instantly and reaches out to grip Jason's forearm lightly, but firmly.

Last year's anniversary had been rough on him, Tim had learned, after the fact, in bits and pieces that Jason had shared with forced offhandedness. Just remembering it made Tim wince. He had learned more about it from the other family members who - as Bats, had never had enough sense or decency to keep out of other people's business - had kept tabs on Jason throughout the day. According to them, 'rough' was an understatement.

"The 27th," Tim murmurs softly, squeezing Jason's forearm gently. It wasn't question, but Jason replies anyway, his gaze going distant and somewhat pained as memories of years before and years back alike clearly flash before him.

"Yeah..."

Last year had been the first April they'd been officially 'together', but Tim hadn't been around for last April 27th. He wasn't there for Jason and for no good reason at all. Only because he hadn't thought about it, because Jason had never said anything about it, because… it doesn't matter why now, all that matters is that he feels awful about it.

He just went about his business as usual, going out to the Titans for the weekend, coming back a few days later. He didn't worry too much when Jason went quieter than usual right before he left. Didn't think too much about it when Jason didn't call him even once over that weekend.

Some boyfriend he was turning out to be…

"I'll be there," Tim promises solemnly, gripping his arm tightly.

Jason relaxes, eyes blinking as he comes back to himself, and nods jerkily, corners of his mouth twitching into the ghost of his normal, snarky grin. "I… yeah. Please."

~*~

Tim clicks vigorously at the blocks on his Wayne Enterprises schedule on his computer screen and sends them back to his secretary with notes on who to call and when to reschedule them. He leans back in his office chair and considers the day he's just emptied out. Tuesday, April 27th.

He's known about this day for years. It didn't take long after he became Robin for him to learn the exact circumstances of Jason's death. 'Let it serve as a warning' and all that. Grim case files aside, it is hard to forget all the times he had to pull Bruce out of dark reveries right around the same time at the end of April every year. Too many anniversaries he had to pull Batman off of muggers he had beaten just this side of 'too hard'.

So, it's not like Tim could ever forget that date or its significance. He didn't forget it last year, either, to be honest. He'd just never seen or thought about how Jason would spend that day... the day he had died. What are you supposed to do, how are you supposed to feel on a day like that? Mournful? Angry? Contemplative? All of the above?

Tim leans forward and exits the hourly view with a sharp keystroke. He left clicks it in the week view and blocks it out entirely. Better safe than sorry. He sighs and leans back into his seat once more, staring pensively out of the massive windows of his corner office at the bleak, misty day outside.

He had always assumed that Jason liked to spend the day alone, working through what ever he was feeling on his own, because that was apparently what he'd done every single year since he'd come back. Furthermore, whenever anyone would offer to come over, have him over, or take him somewhere, Jason would always brush them off, and if anyone got any ideas about snooping around uninvited, he would always them chase away, often angrily, sometimes violently. So, Tim figured he needed that time to himself.

Now Tim knows that the only reason Jason never lets anyone get close to him on that date is because he never feels it's safe enough to be around anyone else. During his most vulnerable times, Jason - like Tim - curls in on himself and pushes away the people he should hold close, being too afraid to show weakness, too afraid too reveal his inner workings, out of fear that others will push him away, or worse, attack him while he's down.

Jason admitted this to Tim sometime in February of last year. He described the masks, literal and figurative, that he wears around everyone - different masks for each of them, each taking a different toll on him - and how much energy it takes, sometimes, just to exist in the same space as other people. He also admitted that, for the first time in his life, he feels as if he's found someone he doesn't have to try so hard around, someone who he trusts to see him without any masks. Someone he would trust to be there when he's at his lowest.

He had looked Tim in the eye as he said this and made it perfectly clear he was looking right at that 'someone'.

Tim's face burns at the memory, in shame as well as a blend of embarrassment and affection. He whirls around in the desk chair and punches the keys on his keyboard, backing the calendar out to the month view. He left clicks the date and hovers over the options, eyes growing distant.

Jason had said that to him, and he - the 'World's Second Greatest Detective' - couldn't even take a hint! Couldn't connect the dots until Jason had made a comment in passing some time after Tim had returned, something about how he was glad that Tim had had his own stuff going on at the end of April, and gotten coverage in Gotham, because he, Jason, had had a pretty rough week and wouldn't have been up for their usual patrols. It had taken Tim a hot second - had had to catch himself right before he was about to ask why it had been such a hard week - but then, all of a sudden, it had all clicked together, guilt striking him with all the force and pain of a batarang to the chest.

Tim comes back to himself and clicks the option to block out the date completely, for every year in the foreseeable future, with no exceptions. He sighs, and leans back in the chair one final time, steepling his fingers. He rests his chin against them as he frowns at the screen.

He messed up last year. No question. He wasn't where he needed to be, wasn't where he should have been. This year he won't mess up. He made a promise. He'll be there.

~*~

"Hey, Babs, sorry to bother you after a long night, but I need to ask for a favor."

"Hey, Tim. It's been a while since you've called my secure number instead of calling over the comms. What's up?"

Tim sighed and stretched out in his wheelie chair. He was sitting at the console for his own personal 'Batcomputer' in the Perch, typing up the night's reports. "Yeah, well, it's the kind of family sensitive thing I didn't want to float across the comm lines, secure or not."

"Ah" Barbara responds succinctly, the single word speaking volumes to her understanding. Tim hears a few quiet clicks and then Babs confirms, "This line is now 100% secure. No prying ears, Bats or otherwise, will hear this conversation, on my end, at least. So what's up?"

Tim feels a tension leech out of his shoulders that he didn't even realize he'd been carrying. "Two Tuesdays from now could you quietly bring in one of the Birds of Prey to cover my, and maybe Jason's, patrol routes?"

"Well, Jason already asked for coverage that day - for the whole week actually - and Cass is coming back but why would-- oh." The line goes quiet for a few seconds before Barbara continues in a subdued tone. "He asked you to stay with him that night?"

"Yeah, I'm taking the whole day off," Tim responds, absently spinning a Birdarang on the desk to give his fidgety fingers something to do. "I…wow. I didn't realize Jason was taking the whole week."

"Yeah, he always takes that entire week - the day before and several days after, so he's not tempted to tear up the town while he's still in his usual funk - it's no secret. So why with all the 'hush-hush' from you?"

"I…" The Birdarang falters in midspin and he quickly sets the disc aside and sits up in his chair. "I didn't want to make a big deal out of it. This is the first time Jason is letting anyone stay with him and I thought that if the family found out or if Jay heard me making the request over the comms…"

"That he'd be upset that you were attracting attention to the whole thing," Barbara finishes. She sighs. "Yeah, it's probably wise to keep it on the down low, but to be honest, I think this is the one thing Bruce and Dick would leave alone no matter what." She chuckles. "After years of repeated failures, they've 'wisely' taken my advice and are waiting for him to feel ready to open up before they force their way in."

"That's… surprising, but good to hear," Tim admits with a small smile.

"In any case, I'll find someone to cover your routes that night. Is there anything else you needed while I have you on the line?"

"Actually," Tim speaks slowly, weighing his options, "Do you think you could make it the entire week? Now that I know Jay will be down that whole time…"

"Uh. Sure," Babs replies in mild surprise, the sound of keys clicking rapidly in the background. "Done. But can you really afford to be away that long?"

Tim's expression turns grim. "I'll have to. I wasn't there last year, Babs. I have to be there for him this year."

She hums thoughtfully then trails off. The line is silent for so long that for a moment Tim thinks she's hung up on him. Then… "Tim, you know that Jason doesn't blame you for not being around last year, right? You guys had only just gotten together, so he probably didn't feel completely ready to have you there until now anyway."

Tim exhales slowly through his nose, consciously working to dispel the tension that had crept back into his shoulders as Babs spoke. "It doesn't matter. I still feel awful for not even thinking to ask if he wanted me to stay. So I have to be there. I will be there."

"Okay..."

~*~

Everything is set. It's the Thursday before the anniversary and Tim is feeling good about the preparations he's made.

He's cleared his WE work schedule, not only for the day of the anniversary, but also for the day before and the day after. He's arranged for patrol coverage for the entire week and even finished off most of his current caseload, passing off the last of it to Steph and Damian. He spoke briefly and discreetly with both Dick and Bruce to let them know where he'll be and why, and, to his surprise - and appreciation - they not only accepted his explanations without argument, they also completely agreed to give him and Jason space - without even being asked! He even called the Titans to let them know he wouldn't be out there this weekend, or the next, and, to their credit, they had tripped over themselves telling him to take as much time as he and Jason needed.

Which is why, of course, Kon is on the phone with him right this second, begging Tim to come help the Titans.

"Rob, dude, we're barely holding it together as it is. We need you out here, like, yesterday," Conner tells him over the emergency line. Tim rubs the bridge of his nose to ward away the headache building between his eyes. "I wouldn't call you out here if it wasn't a matter of life or death. We've already called in the Justice League, but with half their members off-world and most of the leadership tied up elsewhere we're really struggling here. We need you."

Tim tells Kon that he'll call him back. Jason was in the room when the phone rang and heard everything. The minute Tim lowers the phone, Jason tells him to go. For the first time since they got together over a year ago, they argue for real.

"You know it's okay, right? You can go. Go help the Titans. I'll be fine."

"Jason, I'm not going to do that to you. I took this weekend off for a reason-"

"I didn't ask you to do that."

"You asked me to be here."

"Yeah, for the anniversary. Tim, it's on Tuesday. Today's Thursday."

"Yeah, but just in case..."

"I'm not a dainty fucking princess, dammit! The mere thought that day, days away from now, isn't going to send me into fits. I kind of expected you to be gone for the weekend, anyway, off with the Titans like you always are."

"Jason, it's not just for the weekend! If I go out there now, there's no guarantee I'll make it back in time. I don't want to risk it."

"It's fine."

"It's really not."

"Tim, just go help the Titans, already. I'll be fine. I promise."

In the end, Tim is reduced to the point of begging. "Jason, please… please don't ask me to leave you here alone when I promised I would be here, that I would be here for you no matter what," he pleads. He's practically vibrating with anxiety, his body tense with poorly-suppressed fear. Jason seems legitimately shocked at the force of his reaction, face frozen in a look halfway between frustration and alarm. "If I can't make it back… if you need someone…"

Jason's expression gentles and he pulls Tim close, tucking his head under his own and rubbing one hand across his back soothingly. "I've been on my own for years. I'll be fine. Go do you what you need to do, Babybird. Go save the world; it needs you more right now than I do."

Tim pulls away slowly, looking up at Jason with an expression torn between concern and desperation. "You'll call me if things get bad?"

Jason nods. "I will."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

~*~

Jason calls, just like he promised, but Tim isn't there to accept the call.

To be fair, things were legitimately awful out in California. Between the early season wildfires that had been tearing through the countryside for weeks, the massive earthquake that ripped up the fault lines of SoCal more recently, and the major assaults launched by not one but two of the Titan's biggest foes - H.I.V.E. and Brother Blood - to take advantage opening created by the back-to-back natural disasters, the Teen Titans and those of the Justice League who could be spared to respond to the triple disaster were stretched to their utmost limits.

Tim spent day after day, hour after hour coordinating round-the-clock ops against HIVE and the Church of Blood while also working non-stop with emergency services and the remaining heroes to coordinate rescue efforts. Between handling all comms, assigning rescue missions, coordinating strike teams, troubleshooting EMS communications and the phone grid, repairing power grids, and participating in search and rescue in the final stretch, Tim hadn't slept more than five hours since he'd touched down, and rarely in segments of more than five or ten minutes at a time. Time always ceased to mean much while they were on the go non-stop and eventually the days blurred together until it was difficult to tell how many had passed since it had all begun.

Tim's heart nearly stops the first chance he gets to check his personal cell, not just for the three missed calls and one new voicemail from 'J. Todd', but for also the date and time that glow innocently up at him on his homescreen.

08:47, 27 April, 20xx.

"K-kon! I need you!"

Kon comes flying to his side from halfway across the state expecting a fight or to carry an injured - possibly dying - Tim to safety, but after he calms down, Tim eventually convinces the confused and weary Super that it is imperative that he make it back to Gotham in the next hour.

"Jeez, I thought you were in trouble, dude. Don't scare me like that," Kon chastises as he lifts him and they speed off toward the rising sun.

"I am in trouble, Kon. I promised Jay I'd be there today. I should have been back last night! I knew this would happen if I came out here!"

"Chill, dude. I'm sure Jason's fine. You make it sound like he's going into labor or dying or something."

"This is the day that he died twelve years ago, Kon, and every year he goes through hell reliving it all alone, so, yeah, he is kind of dying!" Tim yells over the rushing wind. He squints toward the horizon. "Can't you fly any faster?!"

Superboy rolls his eyes, wraps a bubble of TTK around them - the tug and roar of the wind around them abruptly ceases - then picks up speed, easily breaking the sound barrier. "No need to shout, dude," Kon placates him in calming tones. "You're lucky I can protect us from the wind, otherwise we wouldn't be able to make the trip at mach 1. Is that fast enough for you?"

"What are you talking about?! You peak at mach 2.1 on a bad day! Why are you going so slow?!"

Tim is still shouting despite the bubble of quiet. Kon winces and shakes his head. He opens his mouth to respond, but Tim babbles on over him, bitching and moaning bitterly.

"I knew this would happen! I knew it! It's all because you had to drag me out to San Fran! Why'd I even pick up the phone? I can't believe I let this happen! I can't believe I let you and Jason talk me into thinking this would work out. I knew this would happen!"

Kon jostles Tim a bit, which, thankfully, shuts him up for a moment. He readjusts his TTK grip, pulls Tim closer, and lights up his metaphorical afterburners. "You know what? You're lucky you're getting a lift from me at all. You wanna see top speed? Fine! Shut up and hang on to your capes, kiddies, but don't complain to me when you're puking up coffee all over your roof in about fifteen minutes."

~*~

Jason isn't sure where he is anymore. He lost track hours ago, sometime, somewhere, in his frantic escape from the way the walls of each place he'd tried to settle down in closed in on him every time the memories bore down. He hasn't stopped moving since he started, he can't find a place that feels right, that feels safe to ride this out, because as soon as he stops, the walls start closing in again and every little noise is a crowbar being raised above him and every child's laugh turns sour and cold in his head. Safehouses, apartments - some of them his, many of them not - public parks, libraries, dank sewers, and secluded rooftops are all flashes in his memory, places he had pushed himself toward in some unnamed, indecipherable urgency, only to abandon with a hollow feeling of dread within minutes, if not seconds, of arriving.

This happens sometimes, in some years, on this day. Other years, he can't stand to move, can't move at all, and he hunkers down wherever he is and tries to block out the outside world long enough to shore up the growing cracks in his fragile mental state.

He had thought this anniversary was going to be one of those 'hide in a corner and try not to hyperventilate' ones, so the day before the anniversary he had picked out a suitable hidey hole, stocked it up with food, checked the security and soundproofing, then locked himself in. Barely five hours in the place, he began to feel that itch under his skin, that urge to move, to get away, to look for shelter in spite of the perfect fine one around him. He held it off for an hour, tried calling Tim - like he said he would - but in the end the crawling feeling in his bones and the lack of response drove him out of his appointed safehouse.

He doesn't remember most of his wandering, and that would worry him, except that some distant part of his mind that can worry about things like his personal safety and situational awareness knows that Oracle and Batman are tracking his every move like flies on the walls, giving him the space to deal with this on his own but ready to step in at a moment's notice to protect him from his own vulnerability.

He called Tim twice more after he started running, once when he stopped in Tim's theater Perch and felt, for the briefest instant, like this was safe place to stop, to stay, and then once again five minutes ago. But the itch is coming back again.

He doesn't want to leave the bolthole he's currently pacing the length of, but he can't sit still. He can't stay, he can't leave, but he can't stay. But if he leaves, Tim won't know where to find him, so he has to stay. But he can't…

He sets his phone down on the lone, rickety table and tugs at his already frazzled hair with both hands. The bolthole isn't big, but for a minute or so the small room had felt secure, knowable, safe. But then the walls started getting closer. He knows they're not moving, can see they're stationary, but he can't shake the feeling that they're inching inwards, reaching out to him, trapping him.

It's getting hard to breath. The dim lighting is darkens in his head, the sickly light not all that different from the glow of a timer from across a dark warehouse, the shadows not that far off from the absolute black of a sealed coffin. His hands are starting to shake, again, and everything around him feels so distant, even as the walls feel so close. He has to wait, he can't leave, Tim will come so he has to…

He's leaving. He leaves. He leaves his phone without realizing it.

Bursting through the door feels like clawing his way to freedom all over again, but also like rolling over to look up as the Joker brings down the crowbar for another hit, and he shudders as the memories rolls over him. He squints against the sunlight - bright, for once, but still so cold; taunting him, searing into his soul, despite the gentle warmth that washes over his skin - and hurries forward to the next shadow, shivering as the loss of light burns just as much as stepping into it had only seconds ago. He keeps moving and flounders in that state of neither here nor there as the memories flood up within him, all around him, and he wanders with urgent, pointless purpose.

It isn't usually this bad, this day. He can count on one hand the number of times he's gotten this worked up over the memories. It's not usually that big of a deal, he reminds himself, but right now he doesn't know where he is, he can't stop moving, can't stop shaking, can't breathe, can't remember how much time has passed… and he can't even care that much about any of that anymore and that...

That's bad. It's been a long time since it's been this bad.

He reaches into one pocket, then the next, then the back one, looking for his phone. He needs to call Tim. He said he would call. He doesn't find it.

A distant, reasonable part of him wants to feel okay that Tim didn't make it back in time, that he didn't make it back before he started to unravel. He told Tim to go. He told him it would be okay, that he'd be okay. He told himself that he's done this many times before, that he can handle it.

But now he remembers how awful each and every one of those times was, even the 'easier' ones. He remembers that terrible feeling of wanting someone, anyone, to be there to anchor him through the flood, but also not wanting anyone at all, not trusting anyone, pushing his family and friends and everyone away. This year was supposed to be different. Tim was supposed to be different. He's supposed to trust Tim. Tim is supposed to be there, be something for him to focus on instead of the maelstrom inside of him.

He wants it to be okay, but it isn't. He isn't angry that Tim isn't here. Tim said he'd be here, but Jason isn't angry. He told Tim he could go. It's okay. But now… Tim isn't here and Jason isn't okay.

It isn't okay.

~*~

"H-hey. Tim. It's, uh, me. I, uh… You're not back yet and I said I'd call if…… I'm in the Bowery safehouse, the bigger one, I know you know the one. Meet me here when you can. I'll- I'll see you."

Tim swallows convulsively, anxiety slithering up into his chest like so many wriggling snakes as he paces through the rooms of Jason's largest safehouse, the first voicemail Jason left echoing in his head. Tim knows he isn't here anymore - the rooms are dark, silent, almost foreboding - but he has to check, has to make sure Jason hasn't circled back, like he often does when he's restless and hopping between places.

Tim rushes from the final room back into the living room and perches on on the edge of the couch while he brings up the Bat-special locator program on his phone, sending out a ping to pin the latest location of Jason's phone on his mobile map. He gets a hit and springs to his feet. He has to find him, he has to get to him. He said he'd be there. He has to be there.

~*~

"I'm here. I mean, I- I left the Bowery place, but I'm here, again, I stopped moving. I'm, uh, in your Perch, that is. The Crime Alley one. I know I said that I could... I can't. Tim. I can't. Please come home. Get this and come ho- come back. I don't know long I can stay here. Please. Tim. Please."

Jason's not in his Burnley bolthole. His phone is, but he's not. Tim feels like he's going to fly apart. He wants to hurl his phone out the wall, he wants to hurl Jason's phone at the wall, he wants to-- his phone starts to ring.

Incoming Call from 'O.'

He barely registers his finger sliding across the screen to accept the call.

"Tim? Hey, Tim, you there? I saw you enter Jay's Burnley place a couple of minutes ago and already I know his phone trail stops there. I have eyes on him right now, so I need you to listen…"

Tim pockets Jason's phone and clutches his own to his ear, listening to Bab's steady voice with all the desperation of a drowning man thrashing towards air. He listens. He follows. He's going to get there. He will be there.

~*~

"T-tim. Tim. Tim. I-I. I can't. I'm. Burnley. In Burnley. I'm… I'm trying. I'm trying to wait but I can't. I can't stop. I can't wait. It's… it's bad. It's really bad this year. I'll- I'll call you. I'll call you… if I can. I'll try, but I don't… I can't…"

"Ja-Jason?"

Tim steps lightly into his very first safehouse - one of their favorite hangout spots back in the day - and searches with quick eyes and slow feet, as afraid to startle Jason as he might a feral cat. The stumbling, nonsensical sobbing of Jason's third and final voicemail is ringing in his ears as he rounds the corner and spots Jason pacing the small space of hallway between the living room and the kitchen. His voice trembles and breaks as he calls out again.

"Jason?"

Jason looks up.

~*~

He looks up at a sound and suddenly Tim is there, calling his name, rushing toward him and throwing his arms around him. Jason's body flinches before his brain catches up, but when it does - TIM! - he wraps his arms around Tim and squeezes, holding on for dear life. His mind hones in on Tim's presence and abruptly halts its spiraling, frantic cycle of respun memories like a dog pauses barking to listen when it hears a new sound, but, at the same time, Tim's sudden presence blows a whole new storm of emotion over him, so he hangs on to Tim so he won't be blown away, and Tim hangs on just as tightly back.

They stand there for a few minutes, just holding on to each other and rocking slightly with their breathing, until they each start to relax and loosen up against the other. When Jason's arms loosen up enough to give him room, Tim leans back and tilts his head up, the unshed tears in his eyes startling Jason. He doesn't think he's ever seen Tim cry before, or even come close.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, Jay, I'm so-" Tim buries his head into Jason's chest again so that his continued stream of garbled apologies is muffled into the fabric.

Jason feels as if someone just hit a struck a tuning fork his head, the pure tone snapping him out of the lingering traces of his earlier meltdown. He feels a curl of annoyance as he notes that Tim looks about as distressed as he felt earlier, maybe more. He isn't sure what Tim thinks gives him the right to feel worse than Jason on his own deathday, but focusing on Tim's bewildering distress does have the upside of giving him a reason and the urgency to compartmentalize his own for the moment.

"Tim. Timmy. Look at me."

Tim looks up and there are tears visibly swimming in his eyes. "-m so sorry. I said I'd be here and-"

"You're here now," Jason says firmly, fighting down the tiny urge to chuckle at how overly dramatically upset Tim is. He still feels pretty awful right now - nothing changes the past, changes his damage - but just having Tim here now, it's helping. Even this bullshit is helping. "Wow, you must not have slept very much over the weekend, you're a total wreck right now."

Tim makes a croaking sound halfway between anguish and indignance and takes a step back. One tear leaks out of his eye and rolls down his cheek. He whips up a hand to scrub it away, but Jason's hand gets there first and gently brushes it away. "I-I didn't but… But you've been frantic, you're were having a breakdown earlier, and I wasn't… I wasn't here." Tim takes a shaky breath and angrily scrubs the tears out of his other eye before they can spill over. "I wasn't here for you."

"I was and you weren't," Jason intones solemnly. "And I still feel pretty shitty, but this… whatever this" - he waves his hands vaguely around Tim and grins weakly - "is about is pretty distracting, so thanks for that."

Tim scrubs at his eyes again vigorously and his expression darkens. "I made you a promise and I broke it, that's what this is about. I said I'd be here and I wasn't. You were having an awful time, and no one you trusted was here for you. That's not okay."

"No, it wasn't okay. I wasn't okay," Jason admits seriously before gently grabbing Tim by the shoulders and gently shaking him as he leans down into his space. "But you're here now. It'll be okay. We'll be okay.

"Will it? Will we?" Tim bites off angrily, pulling away from Jason's touch. He looks into Jason's eyes miserably. "I broke your trust, worse, I made you go through all of that alone and I don't know if I can ever forgive myself for that and…"

Tim is angry, but Jason can tell it isn't with him for making light of the situation. He's upset with himself. Disproportionately upset with himself and Jason is starting to get a bad feeling about it. Time to nip this line of thought in the bud.

"I can forgive you," Jason cuts in loudly, pinning Tim with an insistent stare. "Easily. I never blamed you to begin with. And you certainly haven't broken my trust. I told you to go. That's on me. Let me decide how I feel about it, okay? Besides," Jason lets some of his annoyance color his voice and he points an accusing finger at Tim, "Since when did this become all about you and your need to self-flagellate over everything, huh? Leave a little misery for the guy who actually died on this day, will ya?"

Tim covers his face with both hands and turns away, groaning. He leans over and makes a sound of disgust as he scrubs at his face. "Ugh. You're right. I turned this all back on me and made it all about myself." He sank down into a crouch and covered his eyes with one hand. "I guess I'm sorry for that, too? Damn… I suck. I'm so sorry, Jay. This was supposed to be about you and helping you and… I'm sorry."

Jason crouches down beside him. "Tim. Look at me. You don't suck." He takes Tim's hand and pulls him to his feet. "And I'm not sorry. A little annoyed, yeah, but also a little glad." Tim gives him an incredulous look and Jason chuckles and gently pulls the smaller man into his chest. "It's probably not the healthiest thing - I dunno, I'm not a psychologist," he mumbles into Tim's hair as he wraps his arms around him and squeezes softly, "but sometimes getting sucked into someone else's problems is a great way to take a step back from your own. So thanks for pulling me out of mine and into yours for a hot second."

Jason feels Tim huff a quiet laugh against his chest and then wrap his arms around his waist. "You're welcome?"

Jason rocks them from side to side, almost like they're dancing to some unheard music, and continues speaking in soft tones. "So now that you've helped me helping you with your problems, let me help you help me."

Tim tenses and looks up instantly, brow crinkling slightly. "What do you need?"

Jason chuckles and rocks them a little harder, pulling Tim out of his rigid stance. "Easy, there. Don't give yourself whiplash, Timbo." He hums and leans his forehead down to rest on Tim's. "As for what I need... this was great and all - this impromptu game of tag plus hide 'n seek plus lots of feelings and talking at the end - but I think I need to retrace my steps 'cause I think might have dropped my phone somewhere, and then, after that, maybe it'd be nice to actually settle down somewhere for a while and ride out my annual deathday meltdowns the right way, the healthy way."

Tim's eyebrows rise. "Healthy way? What is that?"

He shrugs, and grins weakly. "I dunno, still working on it. Thought maybe you could help with that."

Tim pulls back and meets his gaze thoughtfully. "Yeah, I think I can do that. And hey," he looks down and starts digging around in his pockets. "Uh… not that one, how about… ah! There it is. I can fix your first problem," he replies, offering up Jason's phone.

"Oh, good! Because retracing my steps would actually be pretty tough since I, uh, don't actually remember all that much about how I got here," he admits with a chagrined grimace and a shrug.

"Jason…"

"Hey. None of that. I didn't ask for no pity," he cuts in, giving Tim a look that is half disapproving, half teasing.

"No, no pity, I would never," Tim backtracks playfully, before turning serious. "But empathy… ouch."

Jason swallows and lets that hang for a second, then nods. "Yeah. Ouch."

Tim buries his head into Jason's chest again and squeezes. Jason lets him, accepting the unspoken gesture of comfort and commiseration and returning it with a squeeze of his own. After a moment Tim pulls away again and smiles up at him fondly.

"Let's get out of here. I'd say we could stay at this place" - he turns his head to look around the sparsely furnished space with fond sadness - "but we haven't used it in a while and I can't really say how well-stocked it is right now."

Jason shakes his head. "Nah, let's head back to my main safehouse. I bought a whole bunch of food over the weekend and stockpiled a whole bunch of stuff for us there, so we should be good to hide out there for a few days."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Tim replies agreeably. "Did you uh…" he trails off with a grimace. "How did you get over here?"

"I uh… I think I walked? I did have my bike at one point but…"

Tim shakes his head and offers his hand. "Let's take mine. We can track yours down later."

"Sounds good to me," Jason agrees. He slips his hand into Tim's, and together they leave his frantic wandering in the dust on Tim's safehouse floor, behind them, where it belongs.

~*~

"This uhh… wasn't what I was expecting."

Jason steps out of the kitchen, carrying two bowls of chili - complete with fried tortilla tucked along the sides and a mountain of cheddar cheese on each - and raises an eyebrow at Tim.

Tim sweeps his hand in gesture to Jason's current attire - his baggiest, softest sweatpants; the biggest, softest t-shirt Tim had owned before Jason had lovingly nicked it from his pyjama drawer; and the softest fucking blanket he owned draped over his shoulders - then to the food, and finally to the colorful, animated space adventure show queued up on Netflix. He shrugs. "I just figured… it'd be different? From when we usually hang out? I just thought you'd want, I dunno, quiet time and maybe… talking? Not that I'm not down for this, I just…"

Jason sighs and settles down on the couch, setting the bowls on the coffee table. "Tim, I don't know if I can talk about it, not right now, but maybe not ever. I don't… I'm not…" He makes a frustrated sound and leans back against the couch, running a hand through his hair. "I've never done this before. Having another person around for this. So we're just gonna hafta figure this out as we go."

"So… you want me to distract you," Tim asks hesitantly. Jason snorts softly at the wording, thinking of all the ways Tim could keep his mind off of everything.

"No, not that. It's not that I'm not going to think about what happened or that I don't want to," he admits, "I just… I need someone here to remind me not to get lost in my thoughts, in the memories."

Tim nods along slowly, comprehension dawning on his face.

"So whenever I start to space out…"

"I'll be there," Tim finishes softly. Jason nods with a gentle expression.

"Yeah, you will, and that will be enough to keep me from spiraling."

Tim fiddles with the corner of Jason's blanket, then looks up with a guarded expression. "Then let's dig in and get going on our Voltron rewatch, but... if you ever do want to talk… I, uhh… I'm here to listen..." He swallows, then rapidly adds, "And I'll never, ever judge." His hands twist the blanket nervously, but his eyes are cool, firm and serious as he meets Jason's. "There's nothing to judge, but even if there were, you wouldn't get that from me. I know how strong you are. Not in spite of all the shit you've been through, but because you overcome it, again and again."

Jason flips the blanket out of Tim's hand settles it across their laps, then reaches an arm up and around Tim's shoulders, bringing him in close.

"I 'preciate that, Timbo, and I promise, I'm a pro at using the pause button, so if I get the urge to talk… I'll be sure to use it."

Tim relaxes into his side and cranes his head back to smile up at him. "Cool. Now what's this about a chili you promised me?"

"Only the second best thing to real-life chili dog, that's what," Jason responds blithely, hitting play on the show, and settling in for a long evening with his favorite food, his favorite animated show, and his favorite person.

~*~

Five seasons in and several hours later, Jason shifts uncomfortably. He hadn't lied or said whatever he thought Tim would want to hear back when he admitted that he'd probably be mulling over the unpleasant details of his death and resurrection, even while they were snuggled side-by-side watching TV together, for the rest of the day.

Really, any time the credits roll or his mind drifts away from the plot or they pause the show for a bathroom break, memories creep forward from the back of his mind and haunt him with their echoes. Sometimes the show itself dredges up flashes of the past, each one the bittersweet intersection between the emotional connection to the characters that marks good fiction and the miniature personal crises indicative of post-traumatic stress disorder.

For the last thirty minutes in particular, he's been lost in the feeling of death; not the pain of dying, but rather the darkness and loneliness of going into the void and the panic of waking up again buried alive. The words he needs to say out loud sit bitterly at the back of his throat, choking him. He stares blankly at the television, registering nothing of what's happening on screen, while he wavers over whether to finally vent his feelings or continue on stewing over them internally.

He knows Tim has noticed that he's lost focus and fallen into his head - the smaller man sneaks peeks at him and stiffens instinctively before deliberately relaxing again, all the while rubbing gentle little circles into Jason's thigh, presumably to soothe him - but to his credit, he doesn't stop the stream or say anything. He's giving Jason control over when and whether to discuss what's eating at him, and offering his presence and touch in the meantime to keep Jason from spiraling off.

That means the world to Jason, and in the end, it is the combination of that silent solidarity and the reassurance of knowing Tim well enough to know he really won't judge that makes him comfortable enough to pick up the remote and pause the show. Tim sits up slightly and Jason sucks in a deep breath.

"I can't sleep in the dark," he spits out without preamble, his voice cracking at the end. "Not anymore. When… when I was a kid, with my mo-with Catherine, then on the street, then at the manor, I couldn't sleep unless it was pitch black. But after... I just can't. As soon as I can't see to the walls anymore, they just start to close in and I'm back in that box and I can't…"

He swallows and steels himself against the raw, hollow feeling he gets for admitting this out loud. Tim's hand stops circling and spays across his leg instead, squeezing gently, and that gives him the boost he needs to go on. "I lose it. I have to have something - a table lamp, a nightlight, sometimes just pulling up all the blinds and letting the light from Gotham in, but… I feel like a scared, stupid little kid, afraid of the dark and I hate it."

Jason sighs and closes his eyes. "I can't sleep in rooms with low ceilings, either. Or in rooms with wood paneling, or with wooden ceilings. Basements are the worst. It sounds so stupid, but every time I try I feel like I'm back there, six feet under, death on my tongue, running out of air, pounding against the lid and…" he cuts off shuddering. "I hate that, too. I dream about it sometimes. I've clawed my way out of that coffin, out of death, more times than I've celebrated my birthday and that is just... so sad, and so stupid, and I just feel so... broken. Stupid. Worthless."

The last word comes out as barely a whisper but Tim hears it and scoots in close, turning his body toward Jason, wrapping his arms around him, and mashing his face into his chest. Jason sinks down into the embrace and rests his chin on Tim's head. They stay like that for a time, the stark silence in the apartment ringing paradoxically in his head, suffocating him with the illusion of total stillness, like death itself.

Eventually Jason focuses on breathing in and out until the sound of Tim's breathing jumps out at him again, then the sounds of the city outside reappear, and finally the feeling of Tim around him sinks in again. He feels empty and scraped raw having admitted some of the things that had been banging around his head, but it feels right having let some of it out, having shared it with someone else. It feels good. He feels lighter and stronger, maybe because some of his burden rests on Tim now, like he doesn't have to shoulder it all alone anymore.

Now that it's out, he feels like he can forgive himself for some of it, accept it instead of letting it eat at him like acid in his chest, in his head. If Tim can accept it, can accept him, then why shouldn't he?

After he relaxes again, Tim pulls back and hums softly. Jason glances down at him, distracted by the way the gentle lighting plays in his soft, glossy hair.

"I get that. I can't ever know what it's like, exactly-"

"I hope to God you never do," Jason growls lowly, disturbed at the very thought.

"-but I wouldn't say that… Me personally, I don't think you're stupid or broken or worthless because sleeping in the dark or under a low ceiling - or a wooden one - reminds you too much of being buried alive," Tim explains, voice low and thoughtful. "To me that makes sense. I would be the same way; I think anyone would be. It's fucked up, but no one would call you broken.

"And the dark... well, I get that," Tim finishes in a low voice. Jason frowns. There was something in the way Tim said that last bit that sets off his intuition, urges him to press, just a little.

"How?"

"What?"

"You said 'you get that'? How?" Jason asks, keeping his voice low and soft. Tim hesitates and Jason instantly checks himself.

"You don't have to say, it just sounds like there's a story and… you know, same deal: if you wanna talk, I'm here for you."

Tim nods, a troubled expression crossing his face before he forces it back to neutral stillness. Jason doesn't press. Instead, he presses a soft kiss into Tim's hair and Tim cranes his head back to catch his lips in a gentle kiss. They return to the show in unspoken agreement and several more minutes pass before Tim finally picks up the remote with a sigh and pauses the show himself.

It takes him a minute to speak and when he does, his voice croaks like his throat is closing up around the words. "After my mother died, I couldn't sleep in the dark for years. I just… any time I tried, my mind jumped to her, alone and cold and stiff under thousands of pounds of dirt, not rotting, but slowly desiccating, and then I would be there, feeling it, feeling cold, feeling dead."

Jason could feel himself freezing up in horror, the descriptions triggering his own memories, but he didn't stop him. This was something they needed to share and then maybe overcome together, he thought.

"S-sometimes it wouldn't be my mother," Tim admitted hoarsely. "Sometimes… after I became Robin… after I saw the… your file, the last entry… then it would be you." Jason stopped breathing, his eyes widening. "I didn't know you, but I'd spent so long watching you as Robin, admiring you, building myself up to do your memory justice…" - Tim's voice wavered and Jason sucked in a breath, searched numbly for Tim's hand - "…that I felt like I did. I'd… I would talk to you, talk to your suit, in the case, promising to be better… but sometimes, in the dark, thoughts of you, cold and silent…" Tim cut off and shook his head, unable to go on. Jason rode out a wave of nausea and focused on Tim. He didn't let himself fall into his own head; Tim had gotten him through his shit, he could get Tim through his - they could get each other through all of this.

"What-what about your dad?"

Tim latched onto the question just as Jason hoped he would, pulling himself out of his thoughts to respond. He shook his head.

"When Dad died, it was different. Bruce was there when he die-when Boomerang murdered him," Tim corrected. There was something in his eyes as he spoke, a darkness Jason saw in his own whenever he looked in the mirror and thought about the Joker, but that was something to come back to later.

"It hurt like hell, more than with Mom, but somehow… Bruce took me to the manor, after, and shared my grief, kept me close, then, later, adopted me. He kept me focused, grounded me in what was real and present, I guess," Tim mused, his expression thoughtful. It turned hollow in a way Jason had never seen as he went on.

"But after he died… after Steph, Kon, Bart, Dad, then him… I lost myself, a bit. No one was there to keep me grounded anymore - Dick and the demon brat sure as hell weren't, and Alfred was facing a such great loss of his own… - so, for days after we settled the scuffle for the mantle-"

"After you recovered," Jason amended guiltily, his eyes darting briefly to the center of Tim's chest, imagining the batarang-sized scar he'd put there. Tim's eyes shot up to his and he shook his head, squeezing Jason's hand.

"Yeah, but we're way past that, Jay. Don't beat yourself up for something you did when you were in an unbelievably bad place, something I can't even blame you for now that I understand how bad it really was," Tim chided him sternly. Jason opened his mouth but Tim went on over him.

"Anyway, after Bruce died, I spent weeks wandering the manor as if, I dunno, if I looked hard enough, if I walked through the right door or looked under every bed, he'd be there. It was such a shock, such an impossible thing that he could really be gone, that it just wouldn't sink in. I'd look and look and look, for hours sometimes. When the manor started to feel too small and suffocating, I'd wander around Gotham. Every safehouse, every rooftop, every nook or cranny we'd ever hid in. I couldn't stop moving, stop looking," Tim admitted, his eyes lost and distant.

"It felt like, if I kept moving, maybe eventually, I'd find Bruce or find a way to accept he was gone. It wasn't until Dick… when I lost Robin that I snapped out it. Losing my only remaining purpose was a slap to the face, a wake-up call. I stopped wandering, but I still kept searching. I found a painting amongst the family paintings - it had changed, I swore on it - and that convinced me that Bruce was still out there, somewhere in time, and that the body we'd buried was a copy, or that Bruce had been copied, but one way or another he was still out there. I became obsessed with finding him and lost myself to that instead."

He swallowed and admitted in a quieter voice, "Without anyone or anything to keep me grounded… if I hadn't found Bruce eventually… I don't think I would have come back from that. Not really." He paused then blinked and shook his head with a scoff. "Sorry, I'm making this all about me again and-"

"That was what happened today."

"What?" Tim blinked at him in confusion, but Jason nodded slowly.

"To me. That's where you found me. Sometimes, on the anniversary, it all becomes so much that I feel like I'm going out of my mind, like it can't be real, couldn't have been real, and I have to get away, I can't stay in one place, as if… if I search long enough, move fast enough, that I could outrun the past, find a better reality, find a place I feel like me again," Jason explains. Tim stares at him with wide eyes. "So that 'can't stop, won't stop, suffocating and going out of your mind so keep moving' you described? Well, I get that."

Silence falls again around them as Jason lets it sink in; he looks away and gives Tim a moment to process. Tim eventually leaves the room, and after a minute Jason hears the toilet flush. A few minutes later Tim returns on quiet feet and clears his throat. When Jason looks up, he smiling beatifically down at him, and he raises his eyebrows when Tim climbs into his lap and kisses him unreservedly. Jason hums in surprise against his lips, but kisses back just as thoroughly. Tim pulls away after a moment and looks down at him fondly.

"What?" Jason asks with a touch of amusement. "What is that look for?"

Tim laughs and moves off to one side, plopping down beside him. "Nothing. You're just something else, you know?"

"Me?"

Tim flicks his hand in playfully reproach. "Yes, you."

"Why?"

Tim flicks his hand again, so Jason flips it over and snatches Tim's, lacing their fingers together. "This day was all about you, about your problems, and here you are helping me through mine. Again," Tim explains. He shakes his head minutely against Jason's shoulder. "Honestly, I should be the last thing you're worrying about right now."

"Yeah, sure, I mean it's the day I died and that's important 'n all, but that doesn't mean I get the monopoly on being messed up and needing an ear for the day," Jason replies wryly. Tim sucks in a breath like he's going to argue, but Jason lifts their hands and thumps them emphatically against Tim's knee. "No, I don't deserve that, so don't even try to tell me I do. And besides, like I told you earlier, helping you through your problems kind of helps me get past mine.

"I guess, sometimes, it takes seeing someone else suffering in a similar way to put your own suffering into perspective, to make it possible for you think about it objectively enough to work through it," Jason suggests.

Tim hums in agreement and squeezes their fingers gently. Jason gives them a few beats to sit together in companionable silence, then thumps their hands one last time and moves to sit up.

"Okay, Timbo, I know we said we were going to finish out the entire series tonight, but I feel like it's about time we call it a night."

Tim nods in agreement and yawns as he pulls himself away from Jason's side. He darts away just a second too late to avoid Jason playfully ruffling his hair with one hand, and Jason laughs at the little hiss and glare Tim shoots him. Together they lethargically tidy up the living room, turn off lights, check and recheck security systems, then shuffle off to bed.

~*~

Jason climbs in first, rearranging pillows and kicking around the duvet, while Tim brushes his teeth and makes sure to triple check the security system - they are vigilantes, after all, and with people like Batman and Ra's al Ghul up in their business on a regular basis, it could never hurt to double, triple, then maybe quadruple check.

Tim flips off the last light - mindful to first open the shades to let in the light from the city - then hovers over his phone, briefly glancing over his messages before bed. He squawks in playful indignation when Jason rolls over and hooks an arm around his hips, dragging him onto the bed.

Tim falls into the motion, toppling like a felled tree across Jason's body, and feels a brief moment of satisfaction for the breathless 'oof' he gets before Jason rolls them and tries to crush Tim with his superior bodyweight. They wrestle for less than a minute before their brief surge of playful energy wears off, at which point Tim lets himself collapse at Jason's side and doesn't fight when Jason tugs him in close. He rests his head against Jason's ribs and lets himself drift off to the rise and fall under his cheek.

He's almost completely asleep when the rumble of Jason's voice brings him back.

"Tim?"

"Mmmm?"

"That thing…that you said about Bruce…"

"Mmmhmm?"

"About losing your father and then Bruce being there, being around, giving you something to center yourself around, someone to keep you grounded…"

Tim perks up his head and blinks into the dim light, focusing. "Yeah?"

"That's what I need. For days like today. For… always. Someone to be there. Maybe not to talk about it or to help me forget, but just… to keep me here. Present. Centered. I just need you to be here for me, nothing special, just like you always are."

Tim hums morosely and shakes his head. "I almost wasn't today."

Jason scoffs softly and Tim squints at him in the dark, trying to make out his expression. "Yeah, you almost didn't make it back to Gotham today, and, yeah, I guess it helped to have you here, in-person, where I could see and touch you, but even if you hadn't made it back, even if you'd just picked up the phone, made a video call, or done something just to let me…ugh," he sighs and scrubs a hand through his hair. "Long story short, let's just say that even if you can't always be right here beside me, I'll never doubt that you'd move heaven and earth to be here for me," he explains, a touch of amusement coloring the undeniable tones of affection and appreciation in his voice. "Not unless… You're not planning on leaving me, are you, Timbo?"

Tim snorts softly and lets his head drop down again. He wraps his free arm around Jason's waist and squeezes gently, feeling Jason's breath hitch slightly before whooshing out in a long, easy sigh.

"No," Tim replies, smiling softly, "I'll be here."

#my writing #christmasriverswrites #chibinightowl #jaytim #angst #hurt/comfort #hurts.so.good #angst and fluff #tw panic attacks #tw ptsd #tw discussion of death #this has been written for a while but it took me sooooooooooo long to edit #the horrible awful long semester I had certainly didn't help #chibinightowl is the sweetest person for being supportive throughout the whole thing ❤#this was marathon edited and only a single pass so forgive the rough prose

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thefuriousstarlightstudent · 6 years ago

Text

Best Friends

So I’ve got another fic. This one is pretty much pure angst and has a few different warnings. So without further ado, here are the warnings:

Horror of the psychological variety. Some description of injuries. Panic Attacks/Metal Breakdowns, brainwashing, and death. Some allusions to depression, but those are lighter. Also swearing.

Onto the story! Link is also up here because this is a long one!

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17595908

Then

2015

The terror, pure, unfiltered, terror hit him almost as soon as he fires the gun.

Daddy's not gonna like that, a voice says gleefully, snickering the whole time. Mommy's isn't either. You've been a bad boy. Better get ready to be PuNiShEd!

Then the flag hits Daddy's back and goes through his chest, piercing his heart. The voice in his head goes silent for the first time in days and he feels a giggle bubble up in his throat and escapes.

"That's not funny…"

Then Daddy stops laughing and falls to the ground, twitching. He continues to stare in sick fascination until the blood slowly staining the floor is a huge puddle instead of just a few drops. He grins even wider until his mouth starts to hurt. He looks at Batman and giggles again. He drops the gun dangling from his fingers. A blood-wrenching cackle bursts out of his mouth, dark and dangerous and gleeful. He's free. Daddy's gone - Dead as a doornail, the voice sings - and Mommy's nowhere in sight.

He hardly notices someone grabbing his shoulders and holding him as he collapses to the ground, still laughing. He's crying too, but that doesn't matter as much. He's safe. He's safe. Daddy's gone for good and now he can just laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and-

"Tim, snap out of it," a voice begs brokenly. He looks up and through the tears streaming down his face, he sees a girl with red hair wearing a cowl. He's sure he knows her from before, but he's not allowed to think about before. Before is for good boys. He's not a good boy. Daddy and Mommy both say so. They punished him a lot, he thinks giggling out loud. "Please, Tim, please."

He doesn't like being called Tim. Tim is from before and thinking about before is bad and it means he'll be punished and he doesn't want to be punished he wants to be a good boy for Daddy and Mommy and he doesn't want to be punished anymore and he can't be called Tim because he's Junior, not Tim. He's a good boy. Not a bad boy. He listens but Daddy's dead and Mommy's gone so maybe it's okay to think about before but thinking about before brought pain so maybe he shouldn't.

He can't decide so he just laughs. And laughs more. And more. More. More. More. More! More! More! More! More! And laughs more! Laughing and laughing and laughing and laughing!

He just keeps laughing and crying and crying and laughing and laughing and crying and crying and laughing until something pricks his neck and his vision slides into darkness.

When they first arrive, Barabara still has hope. She and Bruce both think finding the Joker and Harley Quinn doesn't have anything to do with Tim being missing. That neither of them is involved in the newest Robin's disappearance. That's why they don't call Dick. They have him continue working with M'gann and Conner looking into the Light, who they suspect is responsible for taking Tim.

She wishes it had been the Light.

Because Tim is like a little brother to her. He doesn't deserve this. He hasn't even been Robin for two months. And now a whole month of that has been spent with the Joker.

At first, neither she nor Bruce understands what they've walked into. It's supposed to just be another mission to catch the Joker. Then there's that reel of film the Joker has rolling. It doesn't even show everything, she thinks, feeling sick. Just some electroshock 'therapy' as the Joker says and the result, Tim, huddles in the corner of the room, no longer strapped to the table and mumbling answers to every question the Joker asks.

Then the Joker appears from behind the screen followed by Harley, both going off in a monologue about children and adoption. Then they call for 'Junior' and Tim appears. He's smiling unnaturally wide and his eyes are glazed. He trots right over to Harley, giving her a stilted hug. She responds by patting his head.

When she first sees him she almost throws up. Tim is so pale he's almost white. He's always been a paler kid, but not like this. Not white. His hair is green and she can't see his roots in it at all.

The fight after that is over simultaneously quicker than she can blink but also takes a lifetime. It ends with Harley gone and the Joker dead on the floor. Tim kills him.

Then he laughs. And he doesn't stop. Not until she makes him.

"God, Bruce," Barbara says, pulling her cowl down and looking at him. "God. That… that monster!"

"I know, Barbara," Bruce whispers, staring at the Joker's body. He's not looking at her or Tim, who's knocked out in her lap thanks to some quick thinking. At the rate he'd been going he probably would have kept laughing until he died. "I know."

"Tim is thirteen. He's thirteen and that sick fucker did this to him," she growls. "I need, God, we need to get him home, B. He needs help. The Joker bleached his skin."

And it is bleach, she can tell now, being this close. God, Tim's skin is going to be burned all over. He has burn scars on his forehead from the shock's the Joker kept doing to him who knows how many times. At least, she finds herself thinking, he'd left Tim's mouth alone. She's seen what he's done to people when they don't 'smile' big enough for him. She doesn't want Tim to have to deal with that too.

"Get Tim home, Barbara. Tell Alfred you're on your way. Call Leslie and Dick. Get them there too. No one else."

"What about you?" she asks.

Bruce finally turns to look at her. He looks… sad. Defeated.

"Someone's got to make sure no one finds the body, don't they?"

When they arrive at the Batcave, Tim is just starting to stir. He's not laughing, so that's good, at least in Barbara's head. He sits up in the backseat as she parks, rubbing his eyes blearily and looking confused.

Barbara takes a deep breath, preparing herself, and turns around. She pulls her cowl down and smiles gently at him. Tim merely looks at her, slightly perturbed. There's no sign of recognition anywhere. At least he doesn't seem scared of her.

"How are you feeling?" she asks. She hopes her smile isn't coming off as a grimace.

Tim, for his part, almost seems to be… curious. He tilts his head, considering. He doesn't answer her.

"Alfred is here and Dick is on his way," she forges on. "So is Dr. Thompkins. She's going to take a look at you. Make sure you're okay. Do you want to… how about we get you into some better clothes."

Tim looks down at his clothes then and frowns slightly as if just noticing the sick replica of the Joker's own wardrobe he's wearing. He looks back up at her, brow furrowed. Then he nods, just barely and very jerky, but it's still a nod.

"Okay," Barbara gasps, relieved beyond words that at least he understands her, even if he seems unwilling to talk. God, if the Joker were still alive she'd kill him herself.

She opens the door and hops out of the driver's seat, then she opens the back door, grabbing Tim by the hand and gently tugging him after her. He follows silently, letting her bring him towards the showers.

"Here we are," she says cheerily, all false. Alfred isn't down here yet, probably still getting a hold of Dick. So it's up to her to get Tim cleaned up. "I'm going to get the shower started. Why don't you sit there," she adds, gesturing to a plastic chair kept by the showers. She's not actually sure why it's kept there, to be honest. She's just glad it is.

Tim listens, walking over there and sitting down. He plays with his fingers, interlocking them and releasing them over and over again. His green hair falls in front of his face, blocking her view of his face. She watches him a few moments longer before turning the shower on, waiting for the water to warm up.

It doesn't take long before it's plenty warm. She shakes her hand out and tosses her gloves to the side of the room. Tim is still sitting there. Still playing with his fingers. God, he's thirteen. Thirteen! The Joker isn't just a monster. He can't even be called human. He took Jason away from them, blew him up. And now he's broken Tim's mind. Tim, who's the smartest, kindest, most amazing person she's ever known.

"Come here," she says softly, tapping Tim on the shoulder. His head snaps up, fixing her with a curious stare. She gestures for him to stand up. "I'm going to get you some new clothes. You take off these ones and shower, okay? There's a towel for when you're done over there," she says, pointing to the stack on a shelf. "I'll be right outside the room. If you need me just call, okay? Or make noise."

Tim nods again, this time it's less jerky that when she'd asked him if he wanted to take a shower. She takes that as a positive. She probably should make sure he showers alright, but after what he's been through he deserves a few moments to himself. He deserves to have his privacy.

They keep warm sweatpants and sweaters in the Batcave's locker room that fit everyone as a precaution. She never knew what they could possibly be used for before tonight.

She waits outside the showers, listening to the water run and leaning the back of her head against the wall. After a few minutes, the water turns off. Tim emerges, wrapped in a towel. His hair is still green, but at least his skin isn't as pale. He'd been bleached, but it looks like it was only his face and arms. The rest has washed off and revealed his normal skin tone. Even his face isn't as pale as it had been. That, at least, is a relief. Not as much damage as she'd first thought.

"Here are the clothes," she says, setting them down on the ground. "I'll turn around while you get dressed."

She does just that, listening to the slight rustling sounds of him getting dressed. A few moments later the noises stop. She waits until she's sure he's dressed and turns around.

The sweatpants and sweater dwarf him, despite being his size. He's lost a lot of weight under the Joker's 'care'. His face is gaunt and his fingers are too bony. He looks like a lost little kid. He looks confused like he doesn't quite understand what's going on around him. That almost hurts more than anything else. Tim is sharp as a tack. He's not one who should be this confused, not ever.

"Let's go and sit down in the medical bay," she says. Tim grabs her hand. Barbara's eyes shoot to him, but he's hiding behind his hair again, which is falling into his face, dripping slightly. She squeezes his had, which seems to comfort him because Tim leans against her. "This way."

They arrive, and it's only once they're there that she realizes maybe being here isn't a good idea. Tim immediately starts to hyperventilate, looking at her with big, scared eyes.

"It's okay," she tries. Tim just pulls away from her, hugging himself around the middle and shaking like a leaf. "Here, look. It's fine. I'll sit here with you." She hops onto the hospital bed, patting beside here. "I'm safe and you'll be too. I promise, Tim."

This, finally, seems to work. He stops, moving closer to her timidly. His eyes are darting around him, but he finally sits down carefully next to her.

"See, it's safe," she chirps. "I'll stay here the whole time, Tim."

He leans against her again at that, humming slightly, the first time she's heard him make noise since she knocked him out. The first noise she's heard him make in about a month that isn't bad. Isn't a sign of how much the Joker messed him up.

"Oh my," a voice says quietly from behind her. Tim spins around, tense and scared. Barbara looks slower, placing a hand on Tim's shoulder to let him know he's safe. Let him know Alfred won't hurt him.

"It's okay, Tim. It's just Alfred. He's safe," she whispers to Tim.

"Master Tim," Alfred says softly. "How is he, Miss Barbara?"

Barbara smiles sadly at him. "He's tough. He'll get better, eventually. I'll tell you later. Did you call Dick and tell him we found Tim?"

"Yes, I did. He's on his way now," Alfred replies.

"Okay, okay," Barbara says, stroking Tim's hair until he finally relaxes and leans against her again. "When he gets here, make sure he doesn't just come running down here. I want Leslie to look at him first."

"Of course," Alfred says, then looks around. "And where is Master Bruce?"

"He's… he's taking care of a body." Barbara doesn't meet Alfred's eyes. "I'll explain later. But we can't have anyone finding it."

Alfred raises an eyebrow. "It will be explained to me."

"It will," she promises. "Just not here. Not where he can hear."

"Of course. I will go and wait for Dr. Thompkins to arrive. We don't want to overwhelm Master Tim."

"No, no we don't" she agrees, glancing down at Tim. He's closed his eyes, but he's obviously still awake. This is probably the first time he's felt safe since he went missing. God, how messed up is that?

Alfred leaves.

"I'm so sorry it took us so long to find you, Tim. I swear we were looking, even if that monster said we weren't." Barbara sighs. "We missed you, Tim. I really missed you. I'm sorry this even happened to you."

And Tim, he looks up at her and for the first time since he's been here his eyes are clearer, filled with tears and wavering, but clear.

"Mi-mi-mi-missed y-y-you-ou to-o-oo," he manages before closing his eyes, breathing deeply.

Barbara feels tears fill her eyes too and squeezes them shut, pulling Tim close and hugging him tightly resting her head on top of his.

After everything, once Bruce is back and Dick's here and Leslie's checked Tim out and chewed Bruce up, Tim is asleep peacefully. They have a long list of what to do, including calling Black Canary over as a therapist. It isn't like they can just use a normal one, especially in Gotham.

"The Joker, Bruce!" Dick snaps, quiet enough so that Tim doesn't stir. "The Joker had him! You're lucky he's alive."

"You think I don't know that, Dick?" Bruce snaps back.

"Dick, let it go. We can all yell at each other later," Barbara says tiredly, rubbing her forehead with her fingers. "Bruce, just stop getting mad too. We need to focus on Tim."

And that means a lot. Skin treatment to repair the damage the bleach had done. A cocktail of anti-infection medication to make sure nothing gets infected. Trying to figure out what the hell the Joker had done to Tim's hair because it's growing in green at the roots too. It's not just dyed. Making sure he has no permanent brain damage from being electrocuted. Therapy. This isn't a quick fix.

"Tim's going to need a lot of love. And he doesn't need to hear you two trying to kill each other!"

"I'll get to work on something for the Joker Venom in his system," Bruce offers, which is the closest thing they'll get to him admitting he'll listen.

"I'll let Conner and M'gann know we found Robin," Dick adds.

"No details," Bruce says. "Tim wouldn't want them to know. If he wants to share he can, but only when he wants to."

"Agreed," Barbara says. "You don't have to lie to them, just don't tell them what happened to him."

Dick nods. "Okay."

Barbara looks over at Tim again. He looks peaceful, almost like the same kid he'd been a month ago. But he's not. His hair is green and his face is white and he has electrocution scars on his forehead. He can't even talk, not really. He started laughing, earlier. When Leslie was checking him out. The Joker Venom is really messing with him. But he's still Tim. He's still their Tim.

"But… how do we know the Joker won't do something like this again?" Dick asks. "That he won't come back for Tim? He knows who we are, you said."

"He won't," Bruce says grimly. "The Joker is dead."

It's quiet for a moment. Dick's face goes through a large range of emotions but eventually settles on shock. And disbelief.

"Bruce, you didn't…"

"Tim killed the Joker, Dick," Barbara says, looking him in the eyes. "The Joker told him to kill Bruce and he shot the Joker."

"God," Dick breaths. "Oh my God." He's looking at Tim now. "Timmy…"

"He'll get better, Dick. Tim is strong." Barbara smiles crookedly, glancing at Dick.

"I know he will," Dick says fondly. "But Tim didn't deserve this."

"No one did, Dick," Bruce says. "And that's why we're going to help him."

"And no more Robin," Dick says. "This has been twice now, Bruce. He's going to die. I can't deal with another little brother being killed."

"No more Robin," Bruce agrees.

"Good luck with that," Barbara whispers, looking over at Tim, quiet enough that neither of them hears her.

After a week Tim is already improving in leaps and bounds. The bleach burns on his skin are healing, but his skin is healing pale, almost as pale as it was from the bleaching. Bruce suspects Joker had something that made it permanent in the bleach. It's the same with the hair. It's been growing in green, not Tim's normal black. Barbara hopes it'll stop, but for how crazy the Joker was, he was a genius.

Tim's been talking again. He doesn't say much. They suspect because of the trauma. Talking meant getting punished. And even though he knows logically that won't happen, it's a lot to get over.

He hasn't laughed since, and that's probably good, to be honest. Bruce has been trying, but he hasn't been able to get all the Joker Venom out of Tim's bloodstream. None of them know what will happen if he starts laughing. None of them know if he'll be able to stop.

He seems to know what happens when he laughs and he doesn't try to anymore. He doesn't smile either, but that's okay for now. As long as he gets better, Barbara doesn't care what it takes.

Leslie is coming every day. She has other patients, yeah, but she also cares about Tim a lot. Bruce had offered to get a doctor from the Justice League. She'd turned him down. Told him that Tim was her responsibility.

The only other person who knows what happened, fully, is Dinah Drake. Bruce calls her right away, sets it up for her to come over every day for the foreseeable future. She's Tim's therapist.

It helps, Barbara can tell. He's still healing, but he's getting better. His violent outburst sopped completely after the first few days. He's more like Tim again, just quieter. Sadder. He carries a weight with him, one he didn't before.

Tim gets better. It takes weeks, months, really, but he gets better. He can tell he's still damaged, scarred. He's not an idiot. He's not going to pretend that he doesn't have nightmares. That he doesn't hate himself for what happened.

(He can't bring himself to regret killing the Joker though. He doesn't think he'll ever regret that.)

He hates his stupid skin and he hates his hair. He hates the Joker for doing this to him, marking him as a victim forever. Tim takes to wearing turtlenecks and sweaters that make it hard to tell he has such a large difference in skin tone. He dyes his hair monthly to keep it black, to keep the green from showing. He practices meditation. Black Canary, Dinah, comes over once a week for him to talk to.

The point is Tim's better, maybe not as good as before, but better. And he wants to be Robin again. Bruce and Dick are firm. They refuse. But Tim isn't going to let that stop him. Why should he? It didn't before when Bruce said no.

He prepares for weeks, hacking a backdoor into the zeta beam and adding himself in, making sure no one catches it. He keeps up on his training behind locked doors. He steals his spare uniform out of a locker.

H waits until Bruce is at the weekly Watchtower meeting for the Justice League and Dick and Barbara are on a date. He goes to Mount Justice.

People must hear him the zeta beam power up because when he gets there he sees Superboy, Miss Martian, Beast Boy, and Aqualad waiting. Staring. At him.

"Hi," he says quietly, raising his hand in greeting. "I'm Robin."

"I am aware," Aqualad says sternly. "I was told by Nightwing you were not joining the Team for the foreseeable future."

It's a question hidden in a statement. Tim shrugs. He doesn't smirk or smile. It's still dangerous for him to with the Joker Venom Bruce hasn't been able to get out of him fully. Probably won't ever be able to free Tim from.

"Plans changed. I got sick of waiting around. I figure may as well not give anyone a choice."

"I like you," Beast Boy declares. "You seem cool. Want to hang out?"

"Sure?" Tim says.

He's never really hung out. Heck, he hasn't been to school or near anyone his age in months. He's not going to be allowed back in school until Bruce is sure his 'violent outbursts' are finished with. It's hard though. The anger sneaks up on Tim when he's not paying attention, biding its time until he's so full of it he may burst.

Sometimes he can feel them coming, but it just feels better to yell and scream and kick things and throw things. Dinah says that it's not a symptom of the Joker Venom. She tells Bruce it's normal for children who've been exposed to stressful situations to be prone to bursts of anger.

Doesn't help him if it's normal or not though. Tim's well trained. That makes him a lot more dangerous than any normal kid would be during bursts of anger like his.

He follows Beast Boy, smiling. There's no way Bruce will be able to keep him from Robin.

"What were you thinking?" Bruce asks. He's calm, calmer than he usually is when he's mad. Granted he had to act calm in front of the Team when he caught Tim and dragged him back to the Batcave.

"I was thinking I'm ready. I'm not some kid, Bruce! You can't keep me from this. It won't work. We both know I'm too smart."

"So you weren't thinking. Tim, you're-"

"Dangerous," Tim spits, tearing his mask off and throwing it to the floor. "I know. I'm a danger. I'm violent. I'm angry. I'm a killer." His voice breaks on the last word. He's ashamed to notice that angry tears are spilling out of his eyes.

"Tim, I don't want you to get hurt," Bruce whispers, almost too quiet for Tim to hear.

"I won't, Bruce," Tim says, also quietly. He's facing away from Bruce. He can't show weakness. "The Joker is dead. I killed him. Harley is in the wind. And unless I suffer another mental breakdown I should be okay. We both know most of the Team can take me down if need be."

"Please, don't do this," Bruce begs. And it is begging, Tim can tell.

"I think I have to," Tim says, turning around a furrowing his brow. "I need to help people. I just… Bruce, you know what I mean. You wouldn't be able to just stop, would you? It's like that. Every moment I'm here instead of helping people I just bottle up all of this energy and I feel like I'm always bouncing my leg waiting for you. Hell, you don't even let me in the Batcave without supervision!"

"Fine, Tim! Fine!" Bruce says, somehow throwing a massive amount of energy into those three words without even raising his voice. "Fine. You can join the Team. Nightwing will bring you next training day. But not Gotham, not yet. Not until you've shown me you can handle it."

"As long as I can run comms here while you're out," Tim negotiates.

Bruce cracks a smile. "If I'm out later than 1 am you go to sleep and trade off with Alfred."

"If that's what it takes," Tim says, holding his hand out.

Bruce grabs it and gives it a firm shake, sealing the deal.

Now

2017

"Intel was off," Cassie's voice says across the comms. "We've got Harley Quinn with Poison Ivy. Better get them both."

Tim feels himself freeze.

"Robin, you work with Blue and take down Harley. Kid Flash and I will handle Ivy," Cassie continues.

"You got it," Jamie says from next to Tim. It rings through the comms a second later. "Robin and I will handle her."

"Just wait until Wonder Girl and I lure Ivy away," Bart says. "Better that we don't have to deal with them working together. You know how much that'd suck."

"Affirmative," Jamie says. He turns to look at Tim and flips his comm off. At least the part that lets them hear what he's saying. "You okay, esé? You're kind of pale."

That is almost enough to make Tim want to laugh. But no, he wasn't okay. He couldn't just tell anyone that though. He'd just have to deal with this one his own and hope Harley didn't say or do anything.

"I'm fine," Tim manages, giving Jamie what probably isn't a very comforting look. "I'll be fine," he amends. "I just don't like dealing with Harley."

"At least it's been a few years since the Joker popped up," Jamie offers.

Tim turns away.

"Yeah," he manages. "At least."

From there it all goes according to plan, mostly, that is. Except for the end. When Harley manages to see him in the shadows. He'd been able to land hits on her without her seeing him while she was looking at Jamie. That didn't work forever, apparently.

"Birdie?" she asks, cheery and pleasantly shocked. "I'm glad to see ya! I see those scars Mr. J gave you healed! Too bad about the hair though; I've always been fond of green."

"I haven't," Tim snaps. She blocks a series of kicks, flipping away and dodging Jamie's blast.

"I've missed Mr. J since he died," she goes on fondly. "You were a bad boy, killing him, Junior."

Tim freezes. Harley takes advantage of that and goes after him. Tim is only saved by Jamie finally hitting her with his sonics and knocking her out against a tree. Another attack pins her.

"Robin, you alright!" Jamie exclaims, grabbing Tim by the shoulders when he's finished. "What happened there?"

"N-nothing," Tim stammers. "I'm fine."

"You froze, hermano," Jamie says. "What was she talking about? Calling you Junior and green hair? Scars? Killing the Joker?!"

"It's not important," Tim tries, shaking his head furiously. "Please, Jamie, let it go."

"What's going on?" he asks. "Tim, tell me. It's okay."

Vaguely Tim realizes he's shaking all over. His eyes are tearing up. He collapses like a puppet with his strings cut. He feels Jamie wrap his arms around him in a hug.

"We're back!" Bart cheers suddenly, appearing next to them. "Poison Ivy is neutra-"

He falls silent, no-doubt at the sight of Tim sobbing and Jamie hugging him tightly. Tim hardly hears Jamie tell Bart to get Cassie. Even more vaguely he hears Cassie arrive.

"Tim, you're okay," she says. "Just please, please tell us what's wrong. Please, Tim."

He should be telling them no names in the field. He should be okay, shrugging all this off. He should be a million other things, but he's not. He's scared and alone and thirteen again, trapped with the Joker and Harley, being tortured and electrocuted and terrified.

He doesn't even know what he's doing when he starts laughing and sobbing. All he knows is he can't stop and he's not sure he wants to. God, he's so scared and lonely.

"Tim!" he hears someone exclaim distantly. He can't bring himself to care. He just laughs and he knows he shouldn't be laughing but he can't help himself. Nothing's okay and he doesn't know if it even has been since he was thirteen and innocent. Since before he was Robin. He doesn't really think anything ever will be okay again.

Then the world goes dark.

When Tim wakes up he's alone in one of the medical bays on the Watchtower. Okay, not alone, he amends, seeing Bart, Cassie, Jamie, and Dinah waiting for him. Bart is asleep. Cassie's face is buried in her hands. Jamie's on his phone. Dinah is looking over what must be his chart.

"Hey," he croaks. Wow, his throat is sore. What happene-

Oh.

That's what happened.

"Tim!" Cassie exclaims. "You're awake."

"Tim!" Bart shouts, jerking awake.

Jamie levels him with a look.

"Good to see you're okay, Tim," Dinah says gently. "They refused to leave until they knew you were okay."

"And what happened," Jamie says.

"Yeah!" Bart cheers. "No way we're leaving you alone until we know what's going on."

Tim starts to shake his head.

"Tim, you really scared us, you know," Cassie says.

And Tim knows his secret isn't going to be a secret from his best friends (and girlfriend) any longer.

"I'll tell you," he whispers, looking at the ceiling. "Promise. Just, tomorrow, okay? You can come to my house."

They all share a look before nodding.

"Now shoo," Dinah says fondly. "I need to talk to Tim."

His sessions are upped to twice a week. They'd been down to twice a month before all this. He goes home a few hours later. Alfred makes him spend the day in bed, sleeping. Dick probably hasn't even heard about it. Not that Tim expects him to have. Dick's been… distant since Wally's death.

The next day Tim beams Cassie, Bart, and Jamie into the Batcave.

"Hey, Tim," Cassie greets him, unusually subdued. All of them are, actually, even Bart. That, beyond anything else, is weird.

They all stand in silence for much too long. Awkward doesn't even begin to describe it.

"What do you want to know?" Tim finally offers.

"What happened to you?" Jamie asks seriously.

Tim averts his gaze from all of them. "I guess the closest term would be a mental breakdown. I know, it's not what you may expect, and I know it's dumb, but I just hate it when she calls me Junior."

"Tim, you're the strongest person I know," Cassie says. "It's okay to have weaknesses. It doesn't make me, us, any of us, love you any less."

"Ditto," Bart adds helpfully. "But, why Junior."

Tim shudders at the word. "It's a long story. I just, I never wanted to share it. Have you guys ever heard about how I started as Robin but didn't join the Team for almost seven months and when I finally did I had to sneak to the cave?"

"Once," Jamie says. "But I thought Batman was just protective of you."

Tim laughs bitterly. "He was, but more he didn't want me to hurt anyone else." They all look slightly alarmed. "I wouldn't have meant to, but I wasn't exactly in the healthiest mental state at the time. The Joker, I'd been Robin for a month and the Joker caught me. He killed the previous Robin, you know? I thought he was going to kill me. He wasn't."

"What happened?" Cassie asks.

"The Joker wanted a sidekick, I suppose. And to hurt Batman. He tortured me," Tim says, looking at them for the first time since he started explaining. "Electrocution. Wanted me to be pale like him, so bleach. Green hair dye. It was, three weeks of that, I think. Not just electrocution, but you get the picture. I was pretty willing to tell him everything I know."

Tim closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

"He dressed me up like him, I think. I don't remember it all that well. Batgirl tells me he did. They - Harley and the Joker - called me Junior. They tried to get me to shoot Batman."

"What happened?" Bart breaths.

"I shot the Joker," Tim says. "He died. Just… I haven't seen Harley since. It was harder than I thought it would be. There are still scars, I guess, and not just mentally. My skin, I'm pretty careful, but whatever chemicals the Joker put in his bleach have left my skin pretty pale, a lot paler than it used to be. My hair still grows in green. I dye it a lot. It takes a lot since most of it doesn't stick long."

"Tim, you could have told us. We would have understood," Cassie cries, grabbing him in a tight hug.

"Yeah, hermano," Jamie says, joining in the hug. "We're friends."

"Best friends!" Bart exclaims, wrapping his thin arms around all of them in a surprising show of strength. "Just say the word and we'll listen, no judgment!"

"I know," Tim says softly. "I know."

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harveybwabbit92 · 6 years ago

Text

The day you laugh 8: Mr. Blue sky

The following is a non profit fan based story Batman, Red hood, Nightwing etc. belongs to DC Comics please support the official release.

I gain no profit from this nor do I own anything other then OCs and whatever sprouts from my imagination. Thanks for reading!

*****

It was around 1 PM when Holi finally woke up she went to sit up only to find herself stuck, *I'm not having another sleep paralyses episode again am I?* She panicked for second thinking that Joker's cackle or the sound of a gunshot was about to wake her up!

only for Holi to realize she could still move, *Ok..not paralyzed.* She turned her head to see what was weighing her down only to find herself being spooned by slumbering Jason Todd... And he did not look peaceful, in fact he looked down right terrified!

His arm tightened on her waist "hey Red..." She cautiously called out trying to wake him "No,no no... not her...please! please!" he pleaded at an invisible enemy, her brow furrowed. *her?....his mom?* Holi blinked then shook her head and continued the task at hand, Holi started to pound on his chest while shouting "Hey wake up! you're dreaming!?" she kept shaking Jason who was crying at this point; if Holi wasn't psychologist she'd probably be freaking out right now.

During a PTSD episode her teachers told her to always get away from the patient if they were too violent, and let the episode pass or try calm them if the attack is early on. the problem is Holi isn't sure when it started or what set it off, only that he's in the middle of it. Suddenly Jason's eyes snapped open and locked on to her.

Holi took note that instead of green they were blue and glazed over... He was still dreaming. "Holi?" he croaked then shook his head mumbling no under his breath. "I just saw...He...no." Jason was staring a her forehead and started to hyper ventilating now, She realized he was staring at her scar. "Jason, Look at me." She ordered he was still panicking the redhead took his face into her hands stared up "Jason, wake up and look at me!"

In Jason's mind he was back in that shake being beaten and forced to watch Holi's death over and over, Suddenly he heard her voice calling out to him. his eyes wildly searched the room before looking down in his lap to see Holi's body dead eyes staring up at him, bullet wound fresh and oozing."Holi?" he started breathing hard how was she here? "I just saw...he....no." he panicked when Holi body started to move and his eyes widened in disbelief and were locked on to her wound.

"Jason, look at me..." Holi's corpse ordered he was to far gone he shook his head muttering "No..." He felt her hands on his face. "Jason! Wake up and look at me!" Her hands felt... warm? not cold, her eyes weren't clouded and lifeless... they were fierce,vibrant ...Alive. Holi was alive? He blinked instead of seeing his small innocent fourteen year old girlfriend. He saw a healthy,stubborn and mild crazy nineteen year old woman looking up at him concerned.

The distraught man took a breath and in an instant Jason's body started to relax his eyes slowly returned to unnatural green she grown used to, he collapsed on top of Holi burying his face into her shoulder breathing in her scent and keeping a firm hold on her waist. The redhead hesitantly brought her hand up and combed her fingers through his raven locks after what seemed like hours Jason finally looked at her. "Hi..." she greeted he gave her an unreadable expression before answering "Hey."

The sudden clap of widow rattle thunder echoed through out the apartment cause Jason to tense and his pupils to dilate, as Holi analyzed him *Oh...So, that what triggered him.* he noticed her calculated gaze and sat up.

"Don't use any of that Psychology crap on me." he hissed obviously not liking how Holi was looking at him. "Don't worry wasn't planing to." she sighed getting up and going to her window. "Damn It's really pouring...can't even see the store across the street." she watching the rain Jason hummed behind her.

She heard him get and join her at the window Gotham storms will rain down like Niagara-falls...the tension was thick as they suddenly found the raindrops trailing down the window interesting. "Why did you do it?" Holi jumped suddenly at his voice her green eyes glanced over her shoulder then back at the window. "Why did I do wha--"Jason cut her off with a snarl.

"Don't bullshit me!" He slammed his hand on her desk making Holi jump. "You know exactly what I'm talking about! what the hell are you doing out there?!" he pointed at her suit hanging off her mirror. "Same thing your doing..only I maim them not kill them." She huffed Jason pinched the bridge on his nose.

"I meant why? Don't you realize how dangerous this life is? how it destroys you?!"

"Because I was scared okay? just like you are now!"

"I don't know what you're---"

"Now who's the one bullshitting? He kept me in a fucking cell at that asylum while you and Bruce went looking for your mom, everyday I had to listen to speakers of his voice laughing mocking me. and when I was finally let out?...Well, you know exactly what happened...he made you watch after all" She swallowed letting that sink in.

Jason was very confused she shouldn't have known that unless..."He made you watch me...You remember---" Holi shook her head sadly. "No, Dick told me some of it...I went to your grave afterwards for closure, confirmation?" she shrugged then sighed rubbed her forehead not missing how Jason's eyes would wander to her scar. "I get them to Y'know? nightmares."

he listened intently to Holi about her night terrors and paralyses, how she's hear the crackling of leaves and sticks snapping as she was being dragged through the woods, feeling the gunshot...Joker's laughter. "Don't be freaked out if you ever stay over again and I'm not here, I might've teleported to the spot." She was referring to the clearing Joker's thugs had shot her in. "You not telling me everything." the tall man pointed out, the redhead snorted she forgot he was trained by Bruce for second there. "I..um, I may have been having these dreams lately..." he arched a brow "What kind of dreams?" Holi felt her head hurt for second.

"I'm not sure, but it's usually the same one, I'm in bed and someone wakes me up they're smoking cigarettes and I think we..." She blushes clearing her throat not noticing Jason's face slowly morph into shock. "Ahem, A-anyway he sits down on my bed next me then--" Jason suddenly talked over her "Then Bruce came in and kicked my ass..." Holi looked up at him stunned "That was on your birthday. I was banned from leaving the manor, couldn't get you a gift. So, one thing led to another we had sex, Bruce was pissed and you were shipped off to boarding school the next day."

Jason recalled how much he fucking hated the old man for that! he sent his girlfriend away just because he was scared that Jason was a danger to Holi. "It was bullshit! I would never hurt you!" he hissed Holi gave him skeptical look as she replayed last night, apparently he caught on to what she was thinking "...in confidence I didn't know it was you." he huffed tips of his ears turning red.

The short woman hummed before walking around the raven haired male who followed her movements and suddenly became very aware of the shirt she's wearing was too big to be hers it stopped just past her knees. "is that my shirt?" he asked Holi looked at him confused "It was in my laundry basket." she said pointing out to her living room, Jason scratched the back of his. "I borrowed your machine yesterday..." he said the realization slowly dawning on Holi; she hadn't done her laundry in three days. "..Sorry." She mumbled before he could even say anything the redhead had pulled the shirt off and tossed to him.

Jason felt his body tense up and immediately tried looking anywhere else around the room before the woman glanced him out of the corner of her eye and sighed "Look before your neck snaps." Holi huffed crossing her arms, he swallowed and looked down at short woman giving her a once over...god damn. the years have been kind to Holi..she was well endowed.

she'd lost her baby fat, training had added muscle and she gained curves in all the right places, but it wasn't perfect. He frowned as his eyes scanned over every bruise, every scratch and every scar decorating her body. he resisted the urge to reach out and trail his hands along them and ask how she got them.

Then his mind went somewhere else, the jealous nagging thought of how many times has Screw or any other guy for that matter has been here seeing her like this? * ...I won't go down easy* Her saying that echoed in his mind on repeat, leaving Jason wondering how she can easily drop her guard around him and trust someone after everything that's happened to her? But alas she disappeared behind her bathroom door before he could get a word out. "...you are too comfortable around men." he muttered to the spot Holi had been standing in.

later.

Jason and Holi were sitting in her living room storm still raging outside watching 'It's always sunny in Philadelphia.' occasionally his eyes would wander over to the redhead who was lounging on the couch wearing a green sweater dress and black pantyhose, he trail up her legs and along her waist to her chest...He snapped his eyes back to the TV when she shifted or even showed even a smidgen of awareness of him watching her. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed a lump in his throat.

*Fuckin' Green!... why did she have to wear green!!!"* His thoughts screamed he had his arms wrapped around a pillow; arms tightening every time she crossed her legs or readjusted her dress, Holi got up to get a new can of cherry cola.*She pretty much telling me to bend her over the couch!* He shuddered and took a sharp breath trying to focus on the TV. "*I'm just watching Charlie doing his thang...and It's good man, It's rea--"* Jason gasped and jolted forward feeling something cold tap his neck.

He whipped his head around and saw Holi grinning at him evilly one hand wrapped around her pop-can the other wet and cold from condensation; the tall man snorted "Not funny." he rubbed the back of his neck as the redhead giggled at him.

"Oh, but it was." She beamed sipping her drink before setting it down, and looking out the window behind him watching the rushing wind a rain. "Y'know with how bad it is out there, I'm surprised the pow--" The power went out just as she was about say it.

"I hope you don't have anything in the freezer, because it's out until tomorrow morning." Jason said voice modulated from his helmet as he listened to the emergency broadcast over the radio, he heard Holi groan into her couch cushions. "Leave it to me to effin' jinx it!" She whined blaming herself for the power going out as the anti-hero patted her back. "Hey now, it's not your fault Girly. You can't control the weather." the raven haired man said before going through her utility cabinet and finding some flashlights.

And for the next half hour the two sat in silence reading, Jason in his helmet (night-vision) and Holi with the flashlights, after while Jason was kind of curious as to what the redhead was reading...His helmet's thermals were showing her core temp was spiking, he subtlety started scooting closer to her, heat slowly creeping up his back.

Holi breathing was shallower she started eyeing Jason before turning back to her book, he had taken his helmet off placing it on the coffee table keeping his eyes glued to his book of course he wasn't reading it anymore. his eyes weren't moving, he closed his book loudly and that's all it took before Holi jumped on him, not that Jason was complaining!

A couple hours later...

They laid there quietly on living room floor catching their breaths, Holi sighed at the empty feeling as she pulled off from Jason who'd pulled the quilt from the couch and pulled it over them, and he started chuckling while kissing her forehead right on her scar.

"Holy...holy shit."

"hm~"

"You okay Girly?...wasn't too rough on ya?"

"[sigh] no..."

Jason smiled lazily leaving butterfly kisses along Holi's neck making her hum cuddle into his chest she was down for the count, He was fairing no better, He contemplated picking up Holi and heading to bed which surprisingly was the only thing not tainted by their activities, but Holi looked so god damn cute all tired and flushed dozing off on his chest, Not that he'll ever say it out loud. and the fact that he was the one who made her this way? Well that was a definite ego boost.

A tired smirk tugged on his lips as he played with Holi's hair, as his other hand slowly reached for the gun he had stashed under her couch. in a flash Jason had it pointed at bedroom archway eyes narrowed. "No use hiding, come out unless you want a couple holes in ya." He's hissed eyes narrowed good mood dissolving at the thought of an intruder getting in so easily, After he had put security measures over Holi's security measures.

His animosity disappeared when a woman with one arm in a sling, wearing jeans and blue parka with long raven hair and silver-grey eyes walked in. She gave him sad smile. "Hey Jay..." she sighed Jason eyes widen in disbelief as he lowered the gun. "Shiloh?"

#swearing #implied lemon #Jason Todd fanfiction #jason todd x oc #dc universe #DC Comics #Red Hood x OC

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