Gardening was always the most relaxing thing for her. It brought her peace of mind and of soul. She needed it. Pamela never minded when Harley would visit (truth be told she enjoyed the company) and she may have her...quirks that would get on her nerves, but they were forgivable. However, after she had returned back from wherever she and the Joker had been hiding out, all she did was cry and wail. The Joker most likely kicked her out again, she would go back and he would take her back in and the cycle would continue. She shook her head; she always wondered why people in those kind of relationships never saw what abuse they would suffer though. She picked up the seedling and prep its roots for planting and could hear Harley began wailing again. She sighed and planted the seedling and decided that she should at least find out what exactly happened. It was after all, unusual for Harley in all of her dramas to continue on so much and for so long.

She put the tools away and washed off the dirt and exited the greenhouse. She had no fear of locking the greenhouse because of where she lived. In fact a lot of people knew where she was, even the police but Toxic Acres had become even more toxic over the years and even hazmat teams became very sick in their suits whenever they had tried to 'evict' her. Even Batman risked loosing all of his hair and ability to produce offspring if he entered it. Yes, she had peace of mind that nobody would bother her here but in a way it turned it into a kind of prison. She entered the house and could hear Harley wailing and blubbering all the louder. She climbed up the stairs and opened the bedroom door. Of course Harley was there on the bed, face down and crying like a four year old girl.

"Are you ever going to stop," she finally asked not even attempting to mask annoyance, "you do this every time Harley. Every. Time. Give it another day and you'll be angry and then you'll mope around the place until you decide to go back." She looked down at Harley, who's face was still engulfed into the pillow, but the sobbing stopped. Harley slowly sat up and sat at the edge of the bed looking down. Harley was always carefree and childlike, but at this moment...she was acting like a normal adult. It was just in the way she moved and the way she just looked. Pamela unfolded her arms and stopped glaring at her; she patiently waited to hear what was really wrong. Harley kept looking down, hugging the pillow and when she finally spoke...it was if whatever maturity she ever had finally found it's way to the surface.

"He's gone Red," she slowly said, "Mr. Jay is dead."

"Dead," Pam asked raising an eyebrow, "what do you mean by 'dead'? Do you mean 'dead' as in 'is in hiding but will come back' kind of dead or-" she stopped when Harley looked up at her, she could see in her eyes what she meant. Pamela moved over to the bed and sat down on it and let Harley hug her as tightly as she wished. As she hugged her, she mulled over the news. It really didn't matter how or why the bastard was dead, but it probably was the best news she heard in years. She never liked the clown or his lame jokes, but for now she would hide her delight for Haley's sake.

"It will be alright," she said to Harley as she stroked her hair gently, "tell me about it and we'll talk after that."

It was strange listening to Harley speak in such an alarmingly calm manner and so softly, but Pam stayed quiet throughout the whole story and gave her full attention, even during the more shocking bits.

"...and that's when I came back here Red."

When she finished speaking, Harley expected Pam to hug her all the tighter and tell her sweet soothing things, but she just sat there holding her. She wasn't even stroking her hair like she liked to do. Harley removed herself from Pam and looked at her. Pam wasn't looking at her at all, but looked like she was thinking really hard and what she was thinking about wasn't fun.

"What's wrong Red?" she asked cautiously, she had seen that look before and knew it wasn't a smart thing to speak to her like that. Pam looked over at Harley and finally said:

"Even for the Joker, that was a sick thing to do." she said shaking her head.

"But, Red-"

"And you went along with it?"

"I told you all about it before, Ivy."

"Yes, and leaving out some details along with it." It was true that she hadn't fully paid attention when Harley went on and on about her new 'family life', but she knew she would have if Harley had said 'Oh by the way, we totally kidnapped Robin and brainwashed him into our son'. There was a slight bit of tension in the air. Harley really didn't understand why Pam was upset about. Finally, Pam was the first to speak out.

"So...you know who Batman is then?" Harley shook her head.

"Nah, Mr. Jay never did fill me in on the 'important' details. All I know is that my Puddin's dead and my littl' puddin' cup is missing." Here whatever maturity was there left her and she started to wail anew. Pamela kept thinking to herself. She remembered what she had told Batman and Commissioner Gordon all those years ago about not being able to have children of her own and as she was living her constructed family life...it probably was the happiest she ever had been. She looked over at Harley. Despite what she had done, she still loved her. Harley was her first true best friend, and perhaps now that the clown was gone, could be something much more.

"If it will make you feel any better," Pamela finally said, "we can go out and find out what exactly happened. Perhaps we could even find...him." She highly doubted it though, whoever killed the Joker either took the kid or killed him as well and Harley just didn't find the body. Harley rubbed her tear-soaked face and looked with blood-shot eyes at her.

"R-Realy," she asked with her childlike voice, "you'll do that for me?" Pamela pulled her into a hug and said while stroking her hair:

"For you, I would do anything and everything."

As he slowly woke up, things just didn't feel right. He tried to think of what was so wrong but he just couldn't put his finger on it. It also felt so familiar to him. He took in a deep breath; could smell the dampness of the cave. When he opened his eyes and looked up, he expected to see the familiarity of the stalactites high above but instead was blinded by a bright light. He tried to sit up but was caught short. He looked down and could see that his waist was strapped down. He started to panic; looked down at his arms and legs and could see they were just as tightly bound. He couldn't control his breathing, his head was swimming with old memories. He tried to reason with himself, but it was pretty hard to do so. He concentrated on his breathing, try to get it back under control before the laughter would begin. If Bruce saw him like this... No he'd make suet that he be calm for him. He started to count to ten, taking a deep breath with each number. Soon his breathing was back under control, he was also quite proud of himself for not laughing once. He looked back at the strap around his waist, it wasn't very tight but was tight enough to keep him in place. He sighed and wondered why they had tied him down. He rested his head and looked up at the ceiling. Perhaps it was for an examination? Yeah that sounded like the most likely scenario. He sat up as far as he could and looked around. The light was too intense for him to see properly past the ring of light, but he could tell he wasn't in the medical bay anymore. Why move him? So many questions were bouncing around in his head.

He sat back and decide to wait for whoever to show up. Perhaps then he could get the answers he wanted to know. He was tired of being tied down so many times, even if it was among friends. It was even more frustrating in the fact that he was so used to it. He closed his eyes and try to imagine what would happen next. He hoped, that it didn't involve any shots or anything sharp. He felt odd, like he wasn't sick yet, but was getting there. He couldn't even remember the last time he ate, heck he didn't even know what day it was. For all he knew he could have been asleep for days. He licked his dry teeth, craving a cool glass of water. He tried to listen for anyone, but couldn't hear anyone. Did he dare to try to call out? Would words form instead of the laughter? He decided against it, he would just wait patiently. He tried to clear his mind of the static while he waited, but being aware of it made him feel... He didn't know what. He decided to try to... remember what had happened. Part of him didn't want to but the other half was desperate to know, kind of like wanting to know a well kept secret. He tried, he tried so hard to recall even a bad memory. .. but all he got was a...what? It was like his body remembered, but not his head. He felt shaky and scared; wanted to throw up and run away.

'No,' he told himself, 'calm down. I'm safe here. Nothing ever bad happens in the cave. I'm safe. ' He breathed in slowly, trying to make them less shaky. His throat was so dry. All he wanted to do was get some water and then sleep. Finally he heard something. He looked around but still couldn't see anything. It sounded like someone slowly walking, but with the echo of the cave he couldn't pinpoint the location. He kept looking around and still couldn't see anything yet the sound was getting all the louder. He closed his eyes and tried to listen, but the ringing in his ears. .. why was there ringing? He felt something cool splash on his lips and teeth, tasting the water that hit his tongue. He instinctively began to drink the water presented to him as fast as he could, nearly choking on it. With his mouth turned up the way it was, a lot of the water dribbled out, but he did manage to drink most of it. The water was crisp and cold, it soothed his dry throat, but awakened his hunger. He could ignore it for now, but it would be hard to do so for long. He panted after drinking the glass of water, wishing that more was coming.

He opened his eyes to see whoever gave him the water to see. .. nobody. That was impossible, he had opened his eyes far too soon for anyone to move out of his field of sight. He looked around and still couldn't see anyone. Had hadn't imagined the water, he could still feel it on his face and chin. He kept looking around when he felt something rub on his chin. He cried out while moving his head away. 'What the hell?!' He desperately looked around, he still couldn't see anyone. He felt something touch his head, he jerked away from it. He stared to panic. His head and eyes darted around to look at anyone, but he couldn't see anything. He felt something grab his shoulder and it was too much. He started to swing his arms around, trying to get whatever was touching him away. He felt something strong push him back, held his left arm in place. He blinked and could see shadows. He had to get away, by any means necessary. He felt something near his mouth; he opened his mouth as wide as he possibly could and then bit down on whatever it was. It tried to jerk away; it caused his instincts to bite down harder. He started to taste blood, the metallic taste filled his mouth and he swallowed it out of shock. He felt not only something grab his jaw but his right hand as well. He pulled his hand away, his glove sliding of his hand, freeing it from the grip of the shadows. He swiped his freed hand blindly in the middle of the shadows, he could feel his fingers raking against something. He started to kick, could feel the shadows give way. He could do this, if he kept up the fight he could break free. He felt his foot connect with something soft, and the shadows broke up more. It was strange, the shadows made no noises, in fact the only noise he could hear was himself but it was if he was underwater; really muffled. He opened his mouth and let that shadow go, he had to look down to try to unlock the strap. He had just barley placed a hand on it when the shadows pushed him back with so much force, it knocked the wind out of him. He tried to catch his breath, was slightly aware he was probably laughing, but that didn't matter after what he saw.

Batman was looking down at him. He had seen that same look given to criminals many times before, but never directed towards himself. He was panting and chuckling at the same time, utterly confused. Batman moved away off of him and he could see Dr. Thompkins clutching her cheek, blood dripping between her fingers. Alfred was doubled-over, coughing and trying to catch his breath. Barbra was opening drawers; pulling out gauze and bandages. Dick's back was toward him, but he could see blood was dripping heavily between his legs. He looked up; there was no bright light over head. He looked down, his hands and legs had no straps on them, although his waist was tied down. His ungloved hand had blood and bits of flesh underneath his nails; he could still taste blood in his mouth and on his teeth. He looked up at Batman, who started back towards him holding something in his hand. Before he could react, Batman placed the jet injector next to his jugular and pulled the trigger. It was painful, and the medicine was cold, but it didn't matter to him long. His last thought before he fell asleep was that he was just grateful that he didn't use a needle.

Years.

It had been many years since he felt like this. For the first time since that time in the alleyway, he felt completely helpless and had frozen in time of need. He felt like that scared little boy who had stood by and watched his parents die in that filthy alleyway. He was furious with himself. He had trained with the best; became the best. He had to be. He had trained himself to react quickly and efficiently to any given situation, no matter how horrible it may be. And yet. .. when he had seen and. .. heard what just happened, he froze. He looked down at Tim, he could hardly even begin to comprehend what the whole situation was, and that was unacceptable. He turned toward the others. Alfred was beginning to recover from that kick to his abdomen, not choking on his own breaths. Barbra was helping Leslie cover her cheek with a large gauze pad. Dick was trying to stop the bleeding from his bicep. He finally seemed to break from his daze and grabbed a large clean towel and helped put pressure on the wound.

"Kids got a bite like a bear trap," Dick said through gritted teeth, "damn nearly bit all the way through." Bruce looked at the bite. Tim had bitten directly on his muscle and had nearly severed the whole mouthful.

"Let me see, " said Leslie, who had recovered from get shock and was back into doctor mode. She looked at his arm and frowned at it.

"This is going to require surgery, Dick. The bite is very deep. "

"Can you do it here," Dick asked.

"I'd rather do it at the hospital, " she said looking up at him, "but that will raise a lot of questions. This will scar. .. no questioning that. "

"Guess they're scars number 674 and 675 then, " he said with a smirk. It quickly faded when she looked at him with no amusement at all.

"This isn't something to joke about, " she said, "I need stitches as well on my cuts, and I'll have a hard time explaining where I got them to my colleagues."

"We'll think of something," Bruce said over his shoulder. Leslie looked over at him, then turned toward Alfred.

"Alfred, are you alright enough to help me with Dick's arm? " He looked up at her, still slightly struggling for breath.

"Just. .. allow me. ..a few. .. more minutes. " He said between breaths. Leslie left Dick in Barbra's care and walked over toward Bruce, who was at the sink wetting another towel.

"Bruce," she said approaching him, but he simply ignored get and walked past her. He walked back towards Tim and looked down. Dick's blood started to dry on his chin and neck; his smile just as unwavering. Unlike last time, his eyes were half way open. With that and the blood, it made him look all the more creepy looking. Bruce gently closed his eyes and started to wipe away the blood.

"Bruce, if you ever listen to me ever in your life, please listen now, " He kept wiping the blood away, but turned his head slightly towards her. She took in a breath and sighed it out, knowing what the outcome was going to be.

"This. .. is beyond me. It's beyond you as well. Even I didn't expect that violent of a reaction from him. The boy is a danger, a danger to us and himself," she looked at his back, knowing he was listening but also ignoring her. She decided to just say it.

"I'm taking him to Arkham." You could have heard a needle drop. Bruce had stopped tending on what he would say. They all knew that she was right, but still...Arkham wasn't a place you would think if putting a child in. They all waited; the tension was getting unbearable. Finally, Bruce slightly moved and said so quietly:

"He just needs more time."

"More time, "she repeated in shock, "how much more time will it take for you to see that this boy it's sick?! How much worse do the injuries need to be before you decide what's best? No Bruce, I'm sorry believe me I truly am. .. but, "

"Barbra, " Bruce called out, vice full of command and sight anger, "take Tim up to his room and put him to bed," he then turned to Leslie and said to her with barely controlled anger,

"If you ever mention Arkham again and especially to him..."

"I'm not going to humor you for long this Bruce," she growled back, "just because you don't want to believe it doesn't make it not true."

"Attend to Dick's arm and then to yourself," he said waking away, "the after that look faster Tim and do not, " he said pointing to Alfred, "let her take him anywhere. I'll be back soon to check on you later after my patrol." As he was jumping into the Batmobile, Leslie called out:

"You can't hide from this forever Bruce, your going to have to face it sooner or later!" The car roared to life; spinning its wheels before racing off into the dark. Leslie mumbled something under her breath, to quietly to fully understand, but she quickly composed herself and turned her attention towards more important matters.

"Come on Alfred," she said turning towards the sink to wash her hands, "prep Dick's arm so we can sew him up. I'll get the anesthesia ready."

"Of course," Alfred said, gathering the necessary tools, he turned toward Barbra who was picking up Tim in her arms, "Miss Gordon, do you require any assistance?"

"Thanks Alfred," she said with a small smile, "but this isn't too hard to do. I'll be back as soon as I can to help out."

"Make sure you lock the doors and windows," Leslie said, "he's definitely a flight risk." Barbra didn't say anything, but ascended the stairs with Tim in arm. It really wasn't hard to carry him. She had to carry him before he went missing and it was slightly difficult, but now it was if she was carrying someone half his age. It was hard to ignore the bones that dug into her flesh as she adjusted him over her shoulder.

Soon they had reached the bedroom and she gently placed him down on the bed. She looked over him, she decided to make him more comfortable by at least changing his clothes. As she removed his shoes, it gave her time to really reflect on all this. When she had first heard about Batman...all she wanted to do was to be like him and her father. When she dawned her own cape and went out on her own, she really believed she was making a huge difference and it was a dream come true when she became part of the team. Now though...those weeks were so horrible and now was a nightmare but, was it all worth it. It was becoming evident that this whole 'hero' thing really in the end wasn't working at all. She had read articles authors wrote about them...read all the concerns about having children...she had scoffed at them...now she agreed with them. Tim was screwed up, badly. Probably for the rest of his life. Nobody deserved this, especially a child. She finished changing his clothes and tucked him into bed, making sure that he had enough blankets to keep him warm. She made sure the windows were locked and she locked the door behind her. Her heart was heavy. She realized she was at a crossroad of her life and she had to choose what to do. She kinda already knew what she was going to do...but...it sad that it wasn't such a hard decision anymore.

He opened his eyes and looked strait ahead and could see the ceiling. He sat up and saw that he was in his bed room. It wasn't as exactly as he had left it, the piles of cloths were gone, books and papers neatly stacked and put away. He took in a deep breath and could smell the familiarity of it. It was strange. Was this reality? Had it all been just a horrible nightmare? He wasn't sure anymore. He looked down at his hands and saw that they were completely white. No. It hadn't been a dream. He knew better than that. He rung his hands and breathed in a heavy sigh that was trailed by a quiet chuckle. He rubbed his neck where he thought that Bruce had injected whatever into him...yep it was sore there...so it did happen.

'Day one of the rest of my life.' he thought miserably. He got out of bed and looked down, seeing that someone had put some pajamas on him. They were newer ones so they really didn't fit him at all anymore. He looked up and hope that his suits was close by. Trying to distract himself, he waked over to his figure collection and took one of them down. He figured that it would have been dusty but apparently Alfred still came into his room and at least dusted the shelves and vacuumed the floors. He looked around at his room again. He knew he should feel safe in his own room, but it felt strange and foreign to him. He wanted to leave. He put the toy back and walked over to the dressers. He opened them up, hopeful that Alfred had just put the suit away. He couldn't find it. He decided that he would have to ignore the itching and bite the bullet and just ask for it back. They'd understand, he hoped.

As he turned to leave his room he caught a glimpse of the large changing mirror in the room, a relic of Mrs. Wane's that had been put in this room long before he was ever born. He walked over to the mirror and looked at the reflection inside. It was strange, every time he had looked inside the mirror it was hard to believe that kid staring back at him with large hollow eyes and huge grin was himself. He looked hard at the face of that kid. The kid's eyes seemed sad, despite what the face said, as if they seen far too much and didn't understand any of it. He placed his hand on the mirror, feeling the cool surface of it. He hated that kid, but also felt sorry for him. It wasn't his fault that he felt the way he did. He just wished he could find his own reflection and give back this one.

"Hello Tim."

The voice made him jump and turn towards the origin of it. There standing right behind him was Bruce. He couldn't understand why he didn't see him in the mirror before. He looked up at Bruce, he had forgotten how tall he really was; how his stance almost commanded full attention. He felt timid and small and couldn't help but to shrink slightly back from Bruce while looking away; trying his best not to laugh or chuckle or make any sounds for that matter. Bruce continued to look down at him, making him feel all the more...aware.

"Did you sleep well, Tim?" Bruce asked as if he was talking to a fellow business man. J.J. tensed up and felt as if his skin was crawling around himself, random thoughts bouncing around in his head at the same time. It was impossible to focus on any of them so he finally looked up and just nodded his head. It was always best to agree and follow orders and if saying 'yes' meant keeping out of trouble with Bruce the so be it. Bruce continued to look down, his face never giving away anything. J.J. always had a hard time reading anything from him, but he wished he could now. The way he just kept staring down at him made him feel nervous. He was trying his best to stand tall and stay relaxed but his body kept fidgeting without his permission. His fingers and hands kept twitching and jerking; shoulders shifting. The more he tired to fight it, the more he found it funny. He could feel the laughter forming so he had to turn away; hurry and find something to keep his mind off it. He went to a corner of his room were he had spied a rubber ball and started to bounce it. Bruce followed him to the corner and knelt down close by.

"Tim-" he said gently, as he slowly placed a soft hand on his shoulders. When he felt the hand on his shoulder, he mindlessly jerked it away quickly followed by rapid giggles that loudly popped out. He quickly covered his mouth, but they just kept coming out. He turned to face Bruce, wanting to apologize for this but when he saw him it caused the laughter to momentarily stop. Bruce had absolutely no expression on his face. Nothing. He didn't know what to make of it. He was slightly breathing hard from the laughter as he watched Bruce stand up and take a step back.

"I'm sorry," he said while turning away from him and walking toward the door, "I can see you need some more time to rest. I didn't mean to push you. I'll have Alfred bring you up breakfast; in the meantime get some more rest Tim." Bruce didn't even look back toward him when he closed the door behind him. J.J kept looking at the door; could feel a twitch in his face at his eyebrow and eye. He couldn't believe it. He could feel more laughter boiling and writhing deep inside. It was getting so hard to repress the laughter, to not randomly react without thinking; to judge what was real or not. He backed into the corner until he hit the walls; then slid down them into a sitting position burying his face into his knees while hugging his legs. It was just as he had feared it would be. He had lost any respect he had from Bruce; possibly from the others as well. He could still feel the growing knot of laughter in his belly, could still hear the not-as-quiet whispers just beyond his thoughts...but it just didn't matter anymore. He had lost one of the most important things in his life, Bruce's' respect. It was the closest thing that Bruce could even remotely convey love. He sighed. It would be hard but he had to somehow earn back his respect, no matter what.

I'm sorry for the long delay for the chapter and for the short chapter, but I had writers block. More is sure to come! Please, leave a comment if you like the story!