Whatever Happened to… Tim Drake?
Please Read and Review. I'd like to know what I'm doing right (to keep doing it), and what I am doing wrong (to correct it).
"Bruce..?" Barbara Gordon asked, after changing out of her Batgirl uniform. "What are we gonna do?"
Bruce Wayne stood stoically next to the big bed. Watching silently over his ward. Alfred had retired for the night, after administering a sedative to the boy. Though he wasn't a doctor, over the years, the faithful butler had accumulated enough practical knowledge of trauma treatment that he could, with some extra learning, pass the medical school exams in that area of medicine.
"Tim needs…" his voice trembled in helpless, yet tightly controlled rage and guilt. He reigned his emotions. "Specialized treatment."
"Cant any of your big league friends help?" She asked, her own voice cracking. On the bed, Tim Drake slept fitfully. His skin whiter than paper, and his hair a sinister dark green. For many days, he had been the victim of the Joker and Harley Quinn, the two clown-themed criminals who for many years, had been the scourge of Gotham City. For a while, it seemed like Harley, a former psychiatrist, could be on the road to recovery, but had fallen afoul of the Joker again.
"I made a few calls. They will come as soon as possible." He murmured.
The last plan of the Joker involved kidnapping Tim Drake, in his Robin identity, torture him to obtain all the Bat-family secrets, and turn in into a copy of the Joker, who wanted to form his own twisted family.
They had hid in the ruins of Arkham Asylum for the three weeks it took to break Robin's mind. And where the Joker and Batman had their final confrontation. One that the Dark Night Detective lost.
The Joker had him at last, helpless, but instead of murdering Batman himself, he decided it would be a great joke to have Tim, Joker Jr. do it instead.
However, something of Tim Drake still remained in the tortured, broken mind of the teenager, who used the Joker's own gun to kill the monster. After that single moment, Tim broke down into hysteric tears.
Harley herself had fallen down a cliff, a fall of at least 150 feet into rocks and the sea . Neither hero was in any shape to look for her body.
While Barbara comforted Tim, Batman dragged the Joker's body away, and later buried it in the deepest shaft of the abandoned mine that connected to the deepest su level of the Asylum.
Only Commisioner Gordon and Dr. Leslie Thompkins knew the final fate of the criminal clowns, and both swore to keep the secret. Dr. Thompkins admitted Tim's condition was beyond her abilities.
Two months later.
On the driveway to Wayne Manor, a tall afroamerican man was about to get in his car. He had been contacted by Batman, in his capacity as Mr. Terrific, a genius level superhero and JLU teammate of the Gotham City protector.
"Dr. Holt. Thank you." Both Bruce Wayne and Michael Holt stuck to the charade. As members of the JLU, neither was obligated to reveal their secret identities to the other, but Mr. Terrofic wasn't one of the smartest men in the world just to be easily deceived. Though he kept his deductions to himself, out of professional courtesy.
"You are welcome, Mr. Wayne. I just wish I could do more. Reversing the effects of the variant of the Joker venom that was administered to your ward was difficult. He will heal by himself, but I can't do anything for his mind. I… I just don't know enough. I am sorry."
"You have done what you could, Dr. Holt. Thank you." Barbara Gordon shook the man's hand as he was about to enter his car.
After Dr. Holt left, Bruce and Barbara returned to the study, where Alfred served them coffee and tea. "If you excuse me, Master Bruce, Mistress Barbara," he said, "it is time for Master Tim's medicine." At Bruce's sad nod, the butler left the room, closing the door after him.
"He…" Barbara looked at the impeccable floor of the study. "He is not getting better."
"No." Bruce mumbled. "Holt was our best hope. But his specialty is physical, not mental. Not even Zatanna or Dr. Fate could help in this case. I've asked every hero I could think of, but…"
"Maybe it's time to look outside our little ghetto."
Bruce nodded. He opened a drawer of his desk, and pulled out a file. From it, he brought out a card. He never had any reason to call that number, but now it was time.
He dialed the number from a burner cell phone. Waited patiently as the signal beeped once, twice. Finally, he got an answer. His voice changed, the timbre deepened into the growling voice that instilled fear in criminals and hope into their victims.
"It's me. I need a favor."
Barbara heard the one sided conversation.
"I'll contact you with details. The prognosis is not good."
"No. On site treatment if possible. Bruce Wayne's ward. Timothy Drake."
"Wayne's butler will provide transport."
Bruce ended the call.
A year later.
"Thank you, Dr. Dahl." Bruce Wayne smiled sincerely at the child-like figure sitting on the too big chair.
"Don't mention it, Mr. Wayne. If it wasn't for you and Batman, I'd be in jail or maybe dead. I turned my life around thanks to you." The blonde psychiatrist sipped at her coffee, and pushed her round glasses up her nose. "I am glad to have been of help. Tim's case was very difficult, and he will need therapy in the future, but he is well in the road to recovery, the worst is behind him."
"Will you be his personal therapist? Money is no objection." Bruce asked, deep in the rich boy persona.
"Sure, but if you don't mind, I won't take a single cent. I'd like for you to donate my salary to the Gotham Children Hospital."
"I will, Dr. Dahl." Bruce smiled in relief, though he was t looking forward to the talks he would be giving his partners in crime-fighting. His willingness to have children as sidekicks has costed Tim a year if his life, years in therapy, and could have easily resulted in becoming a murderer, or dying himself.
No more.
Never again he would risk children.
Dr. Dahl's worried voice brought him out of his thoughts. "Mr. Wayne, are you okay?"
"Um, yes. Forgive me, please. I got lost in thought. We're you saying?"
"Don't worry. I understand. It is a perfectly normal reaction, I assure you." She brought a paper bag out of her backpack. "I was saying that today I received a letter from Rico. He is doing very well." She showed Wayne a set of printed pictures, "He just graduated from primary school." Bruise took the pictures reverently, and smiled warmly at the images of the proud kid holding a diploma in his hands. Behind him, his parents beamed at the camera.
"Rico's mom sent this." She pushed the bag towards Bruce. "A pack of cookies for you, one for Batman, and one for me." She sipped at her coffee again. "Wanna share?"
Bruce's smile grew even wider.
Author's Note.
I thought it would be interesting to use the former Baby Doll to write a middle epilogue to the animated movie "Batman Beyond: Return of the Joker"(2000). If you haven't seen it, do so ASAP, it is a great story, that itself bridges the BATMAN, TAS continuity with Batman Beyond. BTW, I used the original, controversial Joker Death Scene, as I find it really cathartic.
Also, I thought Batman would accept the need for help, and recurring to the JLU members would be a relatively discreet solution.
Another animated movie I'm using as background, though it is a throwaway line, is "Batman and Harley Quinn" (2017).