With Robin's balance an issue, Batman chose to hold him on his lap while Barry and J'onn presented their theory. The acetaminophen had worked wonders and Batman had given him something to settle his stomach. Although the boy would still suddenly gasp in pain once in a while when he moved wrong, or rather too enthusiastically, he felt better than he had in a week. Even the blindfold wasn't doing much to slow him down. His actions were more like that of an energetic toddler than a boy of ten, as he attempted to use an unusually patient Batman as a jungle gym.
Black Canary tried to keep her attention on the talk, but her eyes kept straying to Robin as he kicked his feet; leaned over Batman's arm backward; lay his head on the Caped Crusader's shoulder only to slither halfway over just minutes later. That was his current position now, head hanging upside down along his mentor's back while Batman held onto his legs to keep him from doing a header into the floor. It was all Canary could do not to laugh out loud at the boy's antics.
It got so distracting, even to J'onn that the Martian lifted the child up with telekinesis and floated him beside Batman. Robin squealed, and once realizing he wasn't actually falling, reveled in the freedom of movement that floating afforded. The occasional giggle seemed to punctuate the discussion every here and there. Things that would have figuratively sent Batman after someone's throat in a normal meeting, had the corner of his mouth twitching in what Canary could only imagine was amusement.
Only once did Batman curb the boy's play; when he started spinning in forward rolls around and around. Batman reached over and grabbed Robin's ankle to stop the spinning. He tugged the boy nearer and spoke into his ear, loudly enough that the entire room could hear.
"I can appreciate how good you feel right now, but you will be sick again if you continue," he warned. Robin stopped . . . spinning, that is.
Canary thought he looked a lot like his namesake at the moment. This was one bird that would not thrive caged. She never thought she'd see the day when the idea of Batman as a father didn't sound ludicrous. But the child wasn't in the least cowed by the dark, brooding Bat that had full-grown adults, even those purported to be his allies, scurrying to get out of his way. The fact that he seemed to adore the man was even more amazing, but she noticed that he was extra-careful to never stray beyond the reach of the black-clad man; extending a small-gloved hand often to make certain Batman remained where the boy believed him to be. Once when he coasted a little too far and his hand missed by a few inches, Batman would gently tug him closer.
Black Canary was not what one would call a girly-girl, but even she had to crush the urge to squeal from the adorableness of it all! She sighed. It was just as well, since her squeals would have everyone in the room sharing Robin's perforated eardrum plight if she did.
She bit the inside of her cheek in order to keep her attention on the matter at hand. It was a serious topic, after all. Lives were on the line . . . Robin floated upside down with his legs crossed Indian-style; his cape dangling nearly to the floor. He slid the edge of his blindfold off, and she was startled to realize that the white lenses that normally covered his eyes had been slid back. Amazingly blue eyes sparkled at her, and he winked. A bark of laughter was startled out of her, and everyone stopped to glance back at her as the boy slid the blindfold back down over his face without anyone else being the wiser. The impish grin, however, remained.
"Sorry," she mumbled, a flush creeping over her cheeks.
Oh, that boy was good, she thought, amused. She was looking forward to returning the favor once he was truly back on his feet; this threat to his life vanquished.
"So, what is this theory Black Canary told me about," Batman asked.
"We apologize for not coming straight out with our theory in the beginning. We didn't mean to talk so long on the negative aspect of formula," Barry told him. "You left so quickly, we weren't able to actually explain the theory we've come up with based upon Jeremy Cantor's copious notes."
"Which is?"
"That while the formula that Cantor came up with wasn't an actual cure, what it is, is another version to Scarecrow's own toxin; a stronger version," Barry explained.
J'onn took over here. "The process to implant the triggers needed the drug to bypass the brain's own natural defenses and program it to react certain ways once the image or sound activated the trigger. This process, according to the notes is a two-step process, and to remove this programming, the reverse process will also require multiple-steps."
Batman frowned, "Okay. All right, that sounds reasonable. Is that where the visor and the earphones come in?"
Barry shook his head. "No, we can't use them at all. It would be exposing Robin to his triggers once more and whatever chances we might have to remove those triggers would be lost because we would have to stop in order to save his life."
"We will need to go inside of his head psychically," J'onn told him. "Cantor's formula will be administered, and once it takes effect, I will enter Robin's mind and attempt to remove the triggers and their programming. I suppose you could call it psychic surgery. Cantor's formula will help open the boy's mind to what I will be doing, and break down his brain's natural resistance."
"Why couldn't we just use the Scarecrow's original toxin to do the same thing," Batman asked.
"We could, but there is a chance that Robin's brain will cling to traces of the programming. That the removal wouldn't be complete and Robin would continue to have problems when confronted with those images or sounds," Barry said.
"In all honestly," J'onn added. "It could still present a problem. We just don't know because what we are doing has never been done before."
"Not even on Mars, J'onn?" Canary spoke up from her position by the door.
The alien looked sad for a moment. "Something similar has occurred on Mars, I am ashamed to say, but it wasn't done with the aid of a drug. Then there is the fact that the human brain's physiology is somewhat different from that of a Martian brain."
"What happened to those Martians," Batman asked. "I assume that a removal was attempted on them as well."
J'onn hesitated, before telling him. "There were instances of success. Perhaps it would have benefited us to have used a drug during the removal process, but unfortunately that option was never considered."
"J'onn, what happened to them," Batman repeated.
"Most merely succumbed to the assassination attempts and died. Those few that were discovered and removals attempted, only two were able to return to their lives without . . . side effects."
Batman stood up; that was all, just stood up. Everyone took a single, measured step in retreat, including the Martian Manhunter.
"What. Side. Effects," he growled.
"Discomfort in either the form of unreasonable fear or pain when confronted with their previous triggers; panic attacks were common. Only one was left so incapacitated as to be unable to resume some semblance of his previous life. There were no deaths among them, however." J'onn reluctantly admitted.
"Those few," Batman said. "How many were there exactly?"
"Eight,"
Batman was silent for a moment as he sank back onto the stool. "Those aren't very good odds, J'onn."
"I know, but as I was saying, we did not use drugs as an aid. And please keep in mind, my friend," J'onn added softly, "the alternative."
Four sets of eyes slid, at that remark, to the young one as he floated on his back, seemingly oblivious to the conversation, next to Batman.
"Sounds like a plan to me," Robin stated, surprising everyone. No one had realized that the young acrobat could hear well enough to have been listening throughout his antics. "I'm really sick of wearing this blindfold."
Short, as far as my chapters usually go, but it sets you up for the following chapters. The side effects are kind of ominous, though. Hm . . . Reactions?
Yes, I plan another chapter for today.