Issue #7 – The Doctor is In

Robin awoke to a thousand jackhammers pounding on his brain. He placed a hand on his head, and his eyes blinked the world back into view. A shiver went through his body, but he felt too groggy to react to it. He thought he heard his dad shaking him as he pulled the covers over his head. "Tim? Tim! It's time to get up!"

"The Joker!" Robin exclaimed, sitting up and snapping out of the dream. He jerked up so fast that he slammed his back against the steel bars. His heart raced for a moment, but then he took two deep breaths, and he forced it back under control. Be calm. Be cool. You can handle this. He was in a cage, about two yards by two yards, and just tall enough he could stand. On pure instinct, he went to the door, and he felt the lock. It was small, though, and there was nothing he could do with his fingers. He shivered again, and he looked down. His chest was bare, as were his legs and feet. The Joker had stripped him of his costume, all of his equipment, and left him in just a pair of briefs.

Joker had spray painted smiley faces on them though.

Robin gasped. "My mask!" His hands flew to his face, and they felt the familiar material beneath their tips. Robin almost sighed with relief, but then a shiver of fear crept down his spine. The Joker had probably stripped him outside Arkham, removing all of his methods of escape, and the global positioning unit stored in his utility belt. But he had left the mask. Joker didn't have any interest in Robin's identity, just making sure he couldn't escape and that nobody could find him.

Robin stopped his thoughts right there. He didn't need to know what Joker had planned.

Sucking on his lip, Robin looked around the room. It was mostly empty, dark and dank, like some kind of dungeon. It was the basement of a warehouse, most likely. There was a couch not far away, and in the corner were a set of stairs leading to a door. Water dripped on the floor from a leaking pipe in the ceiling.

Not really much to work with. Not really any chance for escape.

Robin sat down in the corner, hugging his knees to his chest, trying to hold in as much warmth as possible. The bars were too solid to break. Picking the lock was out of the question. There was nothing on his body to use…

Suddenly he was struck with an idea. Robin picked at his finger, and he pried off a piece of his fingernail. He jammed it into the lock, concentrating, trying to use it as a pick. But it was too flimsy. It folded and broke, much like Robin had suspected it would.

Robin sat back down again. He would just have to wait. The Joker loved to talk. He was often careless. He would slip up, and then there would be a chance. I may only get one, Robin thought. So I'll have to make it count.

Just then the lights came on. The light was blinding, after being in the dark for so long, and Robin's eyes watered behind the mask. When the world finally came back into focus, the Joker appeared at the top of the stairs. He wore his usual purple suit, and carried a cane with a stylized version of his head at the end of the handle. Typical super villain vanity. "Well, well, well! Good morning, sleepy-head! You've missed all the cartoons, but at least you're up in time for lunch!"

Robin glared at him.

"Still not talking are we?" Joker descended the stairs. "Well, we're going to change all that. Yes, we are. Do you know why I've brought you here?"

Robin watched him walk across the floor until he was only a foot from the cage. Joker smiled, amused like Robin was a monkey at the zoo.

"Believe it or not, I've brought you here to help you, Robin."

"I don't need any help from you."

"Oh, but I think you do. See, while I'm a world renowned criminal mastermind, I'm a comedian first. It's my primary responsibility to make people smile. And you, Robin, I've noticed that recently you've lost your smile. You're always frowning, never laughing. You seem to always be brooding. Quite frankly, you're turning into a regular Batman."

"I'm not Batman."

"Not yet. If anybody would know that, it's me. But you're getting there. And believe me, while I love old Bats from the bottom of my cold black heart, one of him is more than enough. We don't need Batman-Lite running around too. Not to mention it would just be confusing too. So for the sake of simplicity, and in the spirit of service, I've brought you here. We're going to work out your hang ups. We're going to divert your disastrous life path. Through my extensive sessions, we're going to turn that frown upside down." The Joker paused, smiling to reveal his teeth, and he aimed the cane at Robin's chest. "Even if it kills you."

Pfft. A small dart shot out from the cane's tip, and it struck Robin on his left breast. He yanked the dart out and threw it at the Joker who chuckled while easily sidestepping it. Robin's knees buckled. He collapsed to the floor, and his body suddenly felt light.

"What did you do?" he gasped.

"Oh, relax. It's just a small muscle relaxer. You'll still be conscious, but your arms and legs will be about as useful as cream corn in a doughnut factory." Joker reached into his pocket, and he pulled out a key. He walked up to the door. "I'm not as spry as I was in my younger days. I don't want you kicking and punching your way out of the treatment until you have a clean bill of health."

Robin tried to lift himself up. But his arms couldn't support the weight, and his chin crashed to the floor. Joker's hand slid inside the cage like a snake, and his fingers wrapped around Robin's hair. "Time for your appointment!" Robin bit his lip, holding back his exclamation as his scalp cried out in pain. He hit the floor with a thud, and he bounced and rolled as Joker dragged him towards the couch. Another hard tug, and Joker threw him on the sofa. "Just relax," Joker said, raising the cane. "The doctor will be with you in just a moment." The cane came down hard—Smack!—across Robin's stomach. The wind left his body. He coughed and choked, trying to pull oxygen back into his lungs.

It was hard with his muscles feeling like mush. His arms wouldn't move. He couldn't even lift his fingers. But still, the Joker chained him to the couch. Robin tried to ball his hand into a fist. He wanted to knock the Joker's teeth down his throat. Robin took a breath. He tried to meditate, tried to send his mind elsewhere.

"Oh good!" Joker clapped his hands. "The doctor is ready. You're in great fortunes, bird boy, because you happen to have one of the best psychotherapists in the business. She worked wonders for me, let me tell you. Allow me to present the one and only Dr. Harleen Quinzel!"

Joker gave a standing ovation as Harley Quinn appeared, still in her usual getup, only now wearing a doctor's cloak over it. She carried a clipboard and sported a pair of reading classes too. "That's for the referral, Mistah J.!"

"Anytime, Har!" He pulled up a chair, and she sat down.

She stared down at the clipboard and mumbled. "Let's see…Boy Wonder…Batman's sidekick…chronic grumpiness…So, Mr. Wonder, what seems to be the trouble?" She crossed her legs and smacked on a piece of chewing gum.

Robin still tried to move his fingers. They almost twitched.

"Well, alright, I guess we'll just have to figure it out. Peel back those layers of that pesky psyche, am I right? I've always liked Freudian theory, and Mistah J. and I are seventy-eight percent certain you're a teenaged boy, so let's start with something you'll be interested in. What's your opinion on sex?"

Robin stopped struggling. Only for a moment. Her words like a car crash. He didn't want to listen, but part of him was curious where this was going.

"Surely a cute kid like you, you've had some experience with the girls before, right?"

"And surely Bats has given you some pointers," Joker added. "I've heard when he's not romping through Catwoman's litter box, he's showing Al Ghul's daughter the Bat-pole."

"Puddin', please, Mama's tryin' to work her magic."

"Sorry, hon."

"So I know you're young, but it's a modern world. You can tell us if you've ever had some experiences before. Surely there was at least one lucky girl in your life, right?"

Robin bit his lip.

"Perhaps," Joker smiled, "a lucky girl Robin?"

Robin's breath caught in his throat. Did they know? How could they know?

"Ooh, looks like we hit a nail right on the head!" Joker exclaimed, clapping his hands. "I just had a hunch. You put too hormonal brats in skintight outfits together, and you're just askin' for trouble, I always say."

"So tell me about the girl Robin," Harley said, chewing on the end of her pen. "Was she sensitive? Did she listen to you? Did she attend to your needs?"

A memory floated to the surface of Robin's brain:

Her hands ran through his hair. Hers fell over his fingers. It felt so soft. Smelled so good. Why did she always smell so good?

Focus, Tim. Their lips were locked together, kissing passionately, sitting on the edge of his bed. Electricity shot through his body as he felt her hands slide under his shirt and rest on his sides. Her skin against his—wow. He couldn't describe it. He slid his hands under her clothes as well, mimicking her motions.

Then she sat back, and she pulled his t-shirt over his head.

"Uh, Steph, I—"

"Shh. It's okay."

"No, I mean, yeah, it is. I just…I haven't…I've never done this, or anything…I've never done anything with a girl before."

She smiled. "We'll go slowly. I won't throw you into the deep end all at once. She embraced him, and they started kissing again.

"Oh, I guess I should have told you," Joker said. "Silly me, always forgetting. That drug I gave you, it's also a mild hallucinogen. You're actually going to relive all the things we talk about today!"

"So tell me," Harley continued, "tell me about the first time you were together. Or the first time you saw her. Ooh! Or the first time you knew you liked her. Or how about when she told you she was going to be Robin?"

"Or how about," Joker chuckled. "How about you tell us how you felt when you heard that Black Mask had pounded her pretty little face into a pretty little pulp?"

Robin's body shook. It was just a sigh. He held most of it back. Most of it. But with the drugs affecting his body, and his mind in the moment, the moment when they told him that…that she'd… No. He bit his lip. I'm not going to give them the satisfaction. He made his body stiff, rigid, reinforced his wall.

"I find that a lot of our patients' problems begin in childhood," Harley continued.

"I know mine did. Oh, how I miss being a little tyke!" Joker added.

"Why don't you tell us about your parents. Were they distant?"

No. But…

Another memory came back. He was little, but old enough that he realized what was going on. His mom was there. She was still alive. Dad looked a lot younger. They were outside the boarding school, and Mom was giving him a kiss on the forehead.

"Be good," she said.

He nodded. "I will."

"We love you," she said. And Dad nodded in agreement. Then they started to walk away. He stood there, not moving, not even puckering his lip. But he wanted to run to them. He wanted to latch onto Mom's leg, beg her to stay, beg Dad not to go.

Please don't leave me alone, he'd thought. I don't want to be on my own.

He watched them go.

Then he looked up at the school. I have to take care of myself now. Nobody else is going to look out for me.

"Tell me about your mother. Is she pretty? Was she nice?" Harley asked.

"Is she dead?" Joker asked.

"Tim, there was an…an incident… Your mother and father were captured by the Obeah Man…"

"…poisoned…"

"Your mother…she didn't make it, Tim."

"How about Daddy? Was he ever around?" Harley chewed on her pen. "You know, I bet being Robin is a hard job. Were you ever around for him?"

"I'm sorry, Dad. I can't go camping this weekend."

"What? But we've had this planned for a month."

"I know. It's just, you know, the science team is competing at the state competition. I have to go. Those water rockets won't launch themselves."

Dad had hung his head, sighing slightly. But then he looked up, smiled, and he just had this glow in his eyes. Part of it was disappointment. But another part of it was happy. He was proud. He just looked so proud of his son.

"I understand, son. You're just trying to be all you can be. Good luck at the competition. I know you'll do fine."

"Thanks, Dad."

That was the weekend Two Face held the mayor's reelection gala hostage.

"Did he ever tell you he loved you?" Harley asked. "Or was he distant?"

"Or," Joker said, "is he dead too?"

"Tim, there was an incident…"

"…Captain Boomerang…"

"…they killed each other."

Another image came to his mind. It was about a week after it had happened. He stood in front of the gravestone, just staring at it, not shivering as the cool breeze flapped his jacket.

"Hey, Dad," he whispered. "Heh. God, I must be losing it. I'm talking to ghosts. Maybe I am losing it. I'm not really doing well, not at all. I hide it. Nobody knows. Just like nobody really knew how bad I was when Mom died. Well, I guess Bruce and Dick knew…and Alfred. Alfred definitely. And they probably know now, but they know to give me my space. It's just…I'm so used to working through things, but I don't know how I'll work through this. After Mom died and you were in the coma, I dealt with it. I got used to it. But then you came back, and it was like…God, I can't describe what it's like to have your family given back to you after you thought it was gone for good. I know we didn't get much time together, but your coming back and your actually being around this time…I think those might be the best years of my life. I'm sorry. I know I'm rambling, and I usually don't talk this much—ever—but…I adjusted to you and Mom being gone once. And then you came back. I don't know if I can adjust to you being gone again. And this time you're not coming back. I don't mean to blame you, but you're part of why I keep people away. It always hurts when they leave, you know? It always hurts when you leave."

Robin set his face in stone. His mouth didn't even twitch, but he was glad for the mask. He didn't think he could deny his eyes. But somehow, somehow the Joker still knew.

Joker laughed like a child tearing wings from a fly.

"Tell us about your father," Dr. Harley continued. "Was it difficult growing up with him?"

"Yeah," Joker asked, "was it difficult growing up with a father like Batman?"

"Batman's not my father," Robin snapped.

"Oh, and they say I'm delusional. No father in his right mind would let his kid dress up in tights and jump over the rooftops, risking his life in struggles with loonies like me and Poison Ivy."

"She's a good lady!" Harley chimed.

"Clearly your father," Joker continued, "is either dead or he didn't care about you. Or maybe you didn't care and deserted him. Either way, the Batman has you. Your life isn't yours anymore. He's put you in a cape and a mask, and he's molding you into his twisted image. He puts your lives in danger. One time I heard him mutter to the first one, the first Robin—'Good soldier.' 'Good soldier'! He thinks of you as soldiers, not as people, not as kids, just more meat to sacrifice to whatever reason he has for dressing up like a giant bat and terrorizing the good folks of Gotham."

"You're one to talk," Robin spat. "You dress like a clown and kill people."

Joker shrugged. "At least I'm honest about what I do."