Commitment (Part Two)

By TheLostMaximoff

Disclaimer: DC Comics owns Tim and Cass and whoever else appears here. School is coming down on me but I'll try to update as soon as I can.

(Author's Note): With regards to Scarecrow, pretend that you either never read As the Crow Flies or that it simply didn't take place. I didn't really like what they did with him.

He was tired. He supposed at one level or another, all the rogues felt this way sometimes. It was akin to a mid-life crisis. Of course, he never put too much stock in those things. Armchair, pop psychology, that's about all a "mid-life crisis" was. But somewhere inside him, Jonathan Crane felt a sense of weariness. If one were to accurately describe it, he felt old, profoundly old to be more precise. He seemed to have taken on the demeanor of another Washington Irving character. At this point, he felt more akin to Rip Van Winkle, the man who slept for twenty years and then woke up to a world he felt out of place in.

The car had been easy to steal and the body all too easy to dispose of. The woman hadn't really provided any sort of meaningful information and certainly wouldn't have the privilege of becoming one of his case studies. Of course, he did derive a small amount of pleasure from making her suffer. She had been afraid, deathly afraid, of scarecrows. It only took a mild dose of his fear gas combined with his costume to terrify her to death. He hadn't meant to kill her but he had been curious as to how far he could push her. He was always curious, always trying to unlock the true nature of the human psyche. But these days, he was just bored. Perhaps once this job was finished and he was handsomely rewarded, he could set up a private lab somewhere where he could continue his experiments without running into costumed crime-fighters. That would be very nice and would probably put an end to his weariness. He certainly refused to have a nervous breakdown like Riddler did. No, that wasn't going to happen because it would be admitting fear, fear that he was worthless. He was the master of fear, not its simpering lackey. No, he would simply retire and continue his experiments in peace. It would be lovely. But first, he had to finish this job. Yes, it would be his grand finale, the terrifying torture of Batman's young protégées. It would be so lovely to hear them scream, such an amazing final movement to his grand symphony of fear and terror.

"Let them tremble," said Scarecrow to himself as he entered the city limits of Bludhaven. His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror and the large bag in the backseat. All the essentials were kept in that bag. He wasn't an idiot to go traipsing around Bludhaven in his costume during daylight hours. No, that would truly be lunacy. In daylight, he would be Jonathan Crane but when night came and the mind was already heightened by fear of the unknown, that's when the Scarecrow would come out to play with Robin and Batgirl.

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"Rise and shine, Master Timothy." For a brief moment, Tim Drake forgot where he was. His mind was caught in the fog hovering amongst nightmare, reality, and fantasy. To say the least, sleeping had become something of an ordeal for Tim. But upon hearing Alfred's voice rouse him from it, he almost thought he was still at Wayne Manor. It was a nice dream to think that, think that both Stephanie and his father were still alive and that everything had reverted to some sort of natural balance that it once held. Unfortunately, however, that innocence was lost and some things could never be regained.

"Morning, Alfred," said Tim as he reached over and slapped at his alarm clock in order to shut it up. Tim sat up quickly and got out of bed, heading for the bathroom.

"Breakfast will be ready upon your return," assured Alfred.

"Thanks, Alfred," said Tim, "You know we'd never live without you."

"I should hope that never occurs," replied Alfred with a small smile, "Quickly now, mustn't be late for school." Tim nodded and headed for the shower. He quickly turned on the water and waited until it was warm enough. He shook his head, trying to clear away the troubling images that disturbed his sleep. The same nightmares again, always the same. He let the water hit his face and wash the fog away, snapping him into motion. He had work to do and responsibilities that couldn't be ignored. He had to keep moving.

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Alfred had breakfast ready by the time Tim returned. He noticed that Cass was already eating.

"Morning," said Tim as he took a sip of orange juice and dug into his breakfast. Cass simply nodded and smiled, taking a sip of her tea.

"How are things in Gotham?" asked Tim as he looked towards Alfred.

"Much the same," replied Alfred, "Master Bruce has been quite busy with a few cases and, of course, the usual nightly activities." Tim nodded. He hadn't been to Gotham in a while. He didn't like being there unless it was important and usually that was only reserved for case work and holidays. He had tried visiting his stepmother, Dana, at the hospital once or twice but it was too painful and discomforting for him. Staying away, however, didn't make him feel any better.

"Sleep okay?" asked Tim as he looked to Cass, "I know that couch can be kinda uncomfortable."

"It was fine," replied Cass, "Do you want to . . . show Alfred . . . the game?" Tim smiled and nodded. Everyone had to learn to crawl before they could walk and Cass was no exception. Tim didn't exactly have a literature collection conducive to her reading level; they had figured that out pretty quickly. So until Tim could set up an account at the library and graciously present Cass with her first ever library card, they had developed a game. Tim would pick anything around and have Cass try to read it. Street signs, billboards, labels on boxes, anything he could find that he thought would be at her level.

"Alright, a couple of rounds," said Tim, checking his watch. He went over to a cabinet and, after a few moments of browsing, selected a can that he tossed to Cass. Cass caught the can and turned it over to stare at the label.

"Al . . . puh . . . Alpha . . . Alphabet," said Cass as she carefully scrutinized the label, "Alphabet Soup." She looked up with a smile at Tim. Tim enjoyed it when Cass smiled. For someone with such a hard life, she needed to smile.

"Very impressive," said Alfred to Cass, "I see you've really been improving." Cass nodded.

"You probably have all these memorized by now," said Tim as he looked through the cabinet, "I gotta run anyways. Alfred can help you if you wanna play more."

"Alright," said Cass, "Be good at school."

"Always," replied Tim with a smile as he grabbed his bag and headed out the door.

"He's trying," said Cass as she looked to Alfred.

"Master Timothy excels at that," assured Alfred, "He's a hard worker, always has been."

"Is Bruce . . . proud of him?" asked Cass, "That's all . . . all Tim wants to do . . . make people proud." Alfred smiled at Cass. He was always amazed at how much she could understand despite what some might consider a significant impairment.

"Master Bruce has never openly said such," admitted Alfred, "But I have no doubt that he is very proud of young Master Timothy."

"Do you . . . do you think that . . . Steph is proud of him?" asked Cass.

"I don't have to think that, Miss Cassandra," explained Alfred, "I know that Miss Stephanie is proud of him." Cass nodded and turned back to her breakfast. She wanted to get Tim something, something to let him know that he was appreciated.

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How'd that old saying go? Tim was trying to remember it as he sat in his Advanced Chemistry class. Eighteen tons and whadda ya get? Something like that. He'd find out later, if the wait didn't kill him first. His brain was like that. If he couldn't remember some trivial thing that he knew he should be able to, his brain nagged at him till he found it out or remembered it. Of course with the teacher droning on about things he already knew, Tim's brain wasn't going to get distracted and cut him some slack. Par for the course these days it seemed.

"You hear about what happened last night?" The whisper was low enough to avoid the teacher's ears but Tim could still pick it up, training from Batman not withstanding.

"Some gunfight at the docks." Two girls, both of them pretty and popular. Tim sighed. Even in Bludhaven, high school was still predictable.

"I heard on the news that Robin was there," said the first girl, "Everybody says he's only our age." Oh great, he had fan girls now. That was everything Tim needed to make his life complete.

"Megan said she saw some pictures of him," said the second girl, "He's such a hottie."

"Totally," agreed the first girl, "You know he has to have a body to pull off wearing those tights."

"So true," agreed the second. Tim tuned the girls out after that. He didn't really want any more fans. It was too painful to think that, at any moment, one of these girls could get the idiotic idea that they could do what he did. They could be just like Steph. Tim didn't want to entertain that idea and maybe for the first time in a long time, he considered seriously giving up being Robin. But Bruce needed him. Yes, Bruce needed him and Bludhaven needed him and the Titans needed him. The whole damn world needed Robin. But did Tim Drake need Robin? Now there was a question worth pondering. Tim smiled to himself as he suddenly remembered the rest of the saying. Eighteen tons and whadda ya get? Another year older and more in debt. Tim rested his cheek against his hand and stared lazily at the clock, contemplating how true that saying had become in his case.

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Cass had heard that most girls enjoyed shopping. She didn't really see why at first but eventually it began to grow on her. Maybe it was some sort of thing with . . . harmonies? Cass knew that wasn't right. What was the word? Hormones, that was it. She didn't know if it was true though. She'd ask Babs the next time the older woman called.

"How is the city treating you?" asked Alfred as the duo sat at a plastic table in the mall's food court. Alfred sipped his ice tea and watched Cass drink her chocolate milkshake.

"Okay," replied Cass, "Bludhaven is . . . darker. It makes Gotham look . . . happy."

"So I've heard," said Alfred, "Master Dick has told me enough tales about this place."

"Doesn't look bad . . . from in here though," admitted Cass.

"Perhaps it has a few bright spots then," agreed Alfred. Cass sipped her milkshake and pondered whether or not she should ask for Alfred's help in picking out Tim's present. She wanted to pick it out herself but maybe he could offer some advice.

"What does Tim like?" asked Cass bluntly. Alfred arched an eyebrow at the question.

"I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific, Miss Cassandra," explained Alfred.

"What does Tim like . . . for presents?" clarified Cass. Alfred's eyebrow arched slightly higher at this.

"Master Timothy is fond of detective paraphernalia," replied Alfred. Cass gave him a blank look.

"Parfinella?" asked Cass.

"Paraphernalia," corrected Alfred, "I believe you would call it, 'stuff'."

"Ohh, stuff," said Cass as if some deep mystery had just been made clearer, "What else besides . . . that?"

"Computer games," said Alfred, "He likes those as well. Why, if I may ask, are you asking me?" Cass blushed slightly and then wondered why she did so.

"Tim . . . helps me read and learn," explained Cass, "I just . . . wanted to give him something . . . in return."

"I believe that's a good reason," said Alfred with a little smile. He had grown quite fond of Cassandra since she had become a member of "the family". She was different from Barbara and he found himself thinking of her as more of a surrogate daughter.

"Would you . . . help?" asked Cass sheepishly.

"I'd be delighted," replied Alfred.

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Everything looked different under the mask. Scarecrow had mused on this over the course of his criminal career. Once he put on his full regalia, everything changed. He was fully aware, of course, that it was just his perception of everything that changed. But still, putting on the costume was really almost like becoming a new person. He found it a small exhilaration in what was starting to become a very tedious life.

"I don't need to tell you how important this job is to me," stated Penguin as he puffed on a cigar, "You know I wouldn't hire you unless it was important." Scarecrow wondered if he should be offended or take that as a compliment. He decided on neither.

"We've set the fee," replied Scarecrow, "I'd like to request the use of some of your men for a small diversion."

"Go on," prodded Penguin.

"I have some new formulas I've been anxious to try out," explained Scarecrow, "One in particular seems excellent for the job."

"Do tell," replied Penguin as he puffed on his cigar.

"The Boy Blunder is no challenge," stated Scarecrow, "but Batgirl's costume does not allow her to breathe in my terror toxins. I can remedy this little flaw. I have a bio agent version that will seep through their costumes and their skin."

"What will this cost me?" asked Penguin. He was ever the businessman, always thinking in terms of loss and gain. Scarecrow knew this to be the case and had tried, while concocting this plan, to make sure Penguin wouldn't have to expend much effort.

"The compound is administered in two doses," continued Scarecrow, "The first dose is gradual, mildly panic-inducing but over time. It's more difficult to trace that way. However, when combined with the second dose, the chemical really takes effect and produces all the lovely benefits of my usual fear gas only to a greater degree."

"You need my men to serve as a distraction so you can administer the first dose," summed up Penguin, "Do I have a guarantee you can hit them with the second?"

"I should be able to," assured Scarecrow, "The first dose simply enhances already latent fears, anxieties, paranoias, etc. It's the second dose that throws the victim into full-blown hallucinatory episodes." He was getting excited just thinking about that part.

"We have a deal," stated Penguin, "Payment upon full completion of the job." Scarecrow nodded, not really concerned with the money at this point. He was now more anxious to try this new formula and to make both Batgirl and Robin scream for mercy.

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"You and Alfred have fun today?" asked Robin as he and Batgirl both perched on a rooftop overlooking a bank. Word had spread fast in the underworld that someone was planning on hitting said bank tonight. Since it was near the spot where Robin and Batgirl's patrol routes intersected, it was decided that this would be a joint operation. Truthfully, Cass just saw it as a way to spend time with Tim. She wasn't used to how normal interactions with people went. She was much more comfortable as Batgirl than she was as Cassandra Cain. So when Robin suggested they partner up again, Batgirl took the opportunity.

"Yeah," replied Batgirl with a concealed smile. It took her a little bit but she had finally found the perfect present for Tim. She just needed the right moment to give it to him.

"That sounded pretty suspicious," said Robin with a grin, "You two get into trouble?"

"No," replied Batgirl, "I'll tell you . . . later." Robin arched an eyebrow. There were no secrets from a master detective. He knew they had done something and that Cass wanted it to be a surprise. He'd let her savor her moment then.

"That's the cue," said Robin as he saw a group of men enter the bank in very suspicious and questionable wardrobe choices. He sighed. Couldn't crooks get a stylist or something? Batgirl simply nodded as the duo hooked their lines on the cornice of a building and swung down towards the bank's front door.

"Lady first," said Robin with a grin.

"You could . . . make someone think they're . . . not wanted," said Batgirl, "You always make me take point."

"Only because I know you're so good at it," replied Robin. Batgirl rolled her eyes behind her mask as the duo entered the bank. Robin surveyed the scene and saw that everyone was already on the ground. Great, innocent bystanders were always fun.

"Wow, looks like we came at a bad time," said Robin. The two thugs that were over by the tellers whirled around and aimed their guns squarely at Robin and Batgirl.

"Bad time . . . for them," assured Batgirl as the duo sprang into action. Robin whipped out his bo and leapt towards the two thugs at the tellers. The thugs began firing. Robin hated it when that happened. All it did was make all hell break loose. Plus, considering his costume was bulletproof it didn't make a bit of difference to him. He tackled one thug over the counter, riding the man to the ground and knocking his lights out. He whipped the end of his bo out and felt it knock the gun from the other thug's hand.

"Lucky you weren't trigger-happy," said Robin as he jabbed the man in the stomach with the end of the staff, "Almost shot yourself in the foot." The thug didn't have time to answer as Robin leapt back over the counter and smashed his palm into the crook's jaw. This was easy, way too easy. Where was the catch?

"Heavy artillery in the back?" wondered Robin as he moved to where Batgirl was dealing with the other crooks.

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She wasn't one to have professional opinions yet but if she did then Batgirl would've said this was too easy. It was almost boring.

"No good," stated Batgirl as her foot slammed into one man's stomach while her fist connected with another's jaw. She let a batarang fly from her fingertips, disarming a thug before he could get a sure grip on the weapon he had just drawn. She could read these men better than any book. Right now, she might as well have been reading Tim's physics book for all the excitement this was providing. She turned to spot another foe and heard some popping sounds. A cloud of vapor suddenly enveloped her. She figured it was just smoke bombs, nothing to be too nervous about even though she was slightly spooked that she couldn't see anything. Yes, that was a major problem. She coughed slightly and quickly rolled forward out of the gas cloud. She shook her head to clear some cobwebs. It was just smoke, no big deal.

"What, all smoke and no mirrors?" asked Robin as he saw what happened, "You guys don't look like magicians." A few tangle grenades popped and one thug went down in a mesh of sticky gel. Robin saw more smoke bombs go off. At least they looked like smoke bombs. It was hard to tell since he found himself now in the midst of it all.

"Yeesh," coughed Robin as he tried to get out of the cloud, "Makes me glad I don't smoke." He noticed Batgirl was up now and he quickly made his way out of the fog to her.

"Gone," stated Batgirl, "They . . . left the money?"

"Weird," coughed Robin, "They should've grabbed at least some of it."

"This . . . wasn't a robbery," said Batgirl, "This . . . was something else." She knew it had to be something else.

"Maybe they got scared and cut their losses," suggested Robin.

"No," said Batgirl. She knew it was something else but for some reason she was afraid to think of what it could be.

"We should go," said Robin, "Cops'll be here soon." Batgirl nodded as the duo left the bank. She was nervous about something but couldn't figure out what. She was never nervous after a fight, never. So why now?

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Robin quietly slid in through his apartment window and took off his mask and cape. He coughed once, clearing his throat of smoke. It had been a weird night. There was an uneasiness in his stomach. He didn't know why. Maybe he just needed some sleep. He took off the top of his costume and threw it in his closet along with the mask and cape. It was then that he noticed something on his bed. He changed into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt before finally flicking the light on to see what it was. He stared at the box quizzically, carefully taking the card out from under the big, red ribbon. It simply said "Tim" on the front. He knew it was Alfred's handwriting from the precision and neatness of the cursive. Alfred bought him a present? Tim opened the envelope and pulled out the simple card. He opened it and began to read.

Tim,

I had Alfred write this because I can't write very good yet. I just wanted to thank you for helping me a lot. You're a good teacher and a good friend. Hope you like the present.

Cass

Tim smiled as he opened the box. He pulled out a DVD and looked at it. The Maltese Falcon, special edition. This was a classic. He remembered how one night he'd finally gotten Steph to rent it because it had been forever since he'd seen it. He wondered if Cass had ever seen it. He had been meaning to buy it but never got around to it. Just because Bruce Wayne was the one giving him an allowance most of the time didn't mean he could buy everything he wanted.

"Cass," whispered Tim, "You shouldn't have." The weird feeling in his stomach was back again. He felt nervous and unsure now. Little voices in the back of his head started telling him he didn't deserve this. He calmed his nerves for a second, dismissing it as simple nervousness at the fact that a girl was showing affection to him and her name wasn't Stephanie Brown. Yes, that was it. He'd get some sleep, go to school tomorrow, and thank Cass for the present. He still felt a general uneasiness as he put the movie on his desk and then crawled into bed after flicking off the light. He was only sixteen and already he was paranoid about everything. He always knew he spent too much time around Bruce.

(Author's Note): Unfortunately, there is no special edition of that movie but it's still really good. I figured since Tim's a detective he'd appreciate a classic.