Chapter 3 – Mind the words that you said
Dick waited for the portal to the JLA to open, nervous as hell. He shouldn't be, he knew. This wasn't his first time at the League and he was even wearing his own costume, Nightwing's. Sure, he had been sent on Batman's behalf to represent him but that didn't mean much. He had represented the Titans there before. It wasn't a big deal.
The portal opened – and he all but bumped into Wonder Woman who was standing guard.
"Nightwing?" Diana seemed astonished to see him there. "Is there a problem with the Titans?"
Dick was going to kill Bruce. He hadn't warned them that he was sending him instead of coming himself.
"Not at all", he answered politely, smiling, because Diana hadn't done anything wrong.
She looked at him for a second. Then frowned suddenly.
"Oh the bastard", she said. "He didn't tell us anything."
Sometimes, it felt good to be around people who knew Bruce. Dick smiled more sincerely.
"Yeah, he is like that. I came to represent him. I know it is not the regular procedure, but… he is busy", Dick finished lamely.
Diana nodded, relieving him from a big weight. Then again, she knew Tim was missing.
"Of course. I am sure the others won't see this breaking of the rules as insulting. We all understand Batman's priority is to find Robin." She softened a bit, something which didn't happen often. "I wish I could help, myself."
"It's alright. The League already helped a lot."
They did. Dick didn't blame them for stopping looking for Tim after only a month. The chances of him being alive had become insignificant after the first few hours, let alone the first few days, and the League as a whole had other priorities, like saving the world. No, Dick wasn't mad at them.
He still understood why Jason was. Sometimes, seeing people close to them, close enough to get that Bruce had sent him there without warning anyone, give up on their family because of the greater good… it left a bitter taste in one's mouth.
"They are waiting for everyone to arrive in the private lounge", Diana explained. "I will accompany you as soon as GL is there, he's the only one missing."
"No need. Batman gave me his codes."
Diana frowned. The private parts of the Tower were supposed to be – well, private. Dick had known Bruce's code since its construction, actually, but he had been told only to use them for emergencies, which never happened previously. He was sure they weren't his actual codes, anyway. They probably could only be unlocked when Bruce wanted them to be.
"Don't worry", he said to reassure her. "He will update them as soon as he is back."
"I am sure he will."
Bruce's paranoia didn't require any explanation, either. Dick smiled again then went to the lounge. He had relaxed for maybe five minutes but now, he was on edge again. He might be around friends, they could still act hostile if they were unsatisfied with the situation. Which they would be.
Then again, Bruce had posed himself as the bad guy. By not warning anyone, he was reminding them how annoying of an ally he could be. Which meant Dick was the good guy; the one that had to take the blows for Batman, the solution.
Which meant Bruce was paving the way for Dick to appear as Batman at the JLA, in case he didn't find Tim soon.
Dick hated it when Bruce acted like that. And he hated even more that he could guess his thought in those occurrence. He damn well hoped he wouldn't act the same if he ever ended up in his shoes.
He entered the private area. Only the founders and members of the council were admitted there. Sometimes, but very rarely, sidekicks accompanied them. Dick had, back when he was Robin. He knew Wally had when he was Kidflash. Since he had made it to Flash' title since, Dick guessed that had been justified.
He wasn't going to follow this thought up to the end. He wasn't Batman.
He entered the room and everyone's heads turned to him. Dick grinned.
"Hello! Sorry, I'm late." He had been on purpose not to have to face their reaction one by one. If he had to do this, he preferred to take them all at once. "Uh, Batman isn't coming today, he's busy. So, well, here I am?"
Flash grinned back at him. The Martian Manhunter tried not to smile. Arthur was frowning, of course, and Cyborg rolled his eyes but nodded to Dick, welcoming him among them. He had told him often enough that Nightwing should be part of the League. Dick had laughed and answered that he didn't intend to accept the invitation. The truth being, he never had been invited, probably because Bruce.
That totally was a sentence. It didn't need any addition to be understandable by all people in presence.
Clark wasn't frowning. He was smiling with cold eyes, which was much, much worse. Bruce was going to be yelled at or Dick wasn't an aerialist.
"Welcome to you, Nightwing. A warning would have been nice."
"I'm sorry, I would have send a message ahead, but…"
"I don't blame you, don't worry."
Ouch. Well, Bruce deserved that one. The good news was the comment had made the few belligerent ones relax. Oh, Arthur and Shayera were still frowning but it was their default except while fighting. Dick always wondered why they hadn't gotten along with Jason, considering.
But then, if Damian ever made it to Robin, they might start to ask how Jason was doing.
"I was told we are still waiting for GL?" Dick asked.
"He warned he would be late", Clark confirmed. "He shouldn't be long."
Dick nodded. Instead than joining Flash or Cyborg, he nodded at them and went to greet Arthur.
"I've heard there are been problems in South Pacific. Has everything been settled?" he asked.
Arthur looked surprised he knew about it, but was glad enough to talk about how he had handled the situation. They didn't chat for long; GL arrived only a few minutes later, as promised, Diana at his side. She apparently had warned him of Dick's presence because he didn't look surprised.
"I apologize once again for suspending everyone's schedule like this", he said. "Let's start this without any further delay."
That's when the real game started. Dick represented Bruce and as such, he wouldn't go against his beliefs. However, Bruce had sent him, so he would still act as himself, not as Batman. For once.
The problem was most of them had met him as Batman's sidekick, when he was still wearing green panties.
However, he had won their respect as Nightwing. He had been at the head of the Titans for years and now two persons of his generation were part of this very council. Friends of his whom he had leaded back in the days. Also, he had started being Robin before any of them had even found their official name. And Clark listened to him.
Dick grinned, suddenly relaxing. This was going to be alright.
sososo
Tim had cried and begged again. He had tried to scratch the door open. He had scraped the wall with his fork until it broke. Then he had gone back upstairs and looked at the hated bedroom. He was still standing there an hour later, his face blank, exhausted.
He had to do something, his brain finally decided. And he knew what. If he was wrong… He would starve to death. Maybe that would be for the best.
He undressed, folding his stained clothes neatly on a chair. Once naked, he went to the bathroom and turned on the shower hose. The liquid was green. Tim bit his lips and entered the cubicle anyway. It sting, like last time, but not horribly so. He washed, using soap and shampoo, making sure he was clean everywhere even under his nails.
When he was done, he dried off. He combed his hair. He chose his clothes carefully and dressed. In about an hour, lunch would be served. Possibly. He could read in the meantime.
He took the very first book the Joker had read him. It wasn't written in English but he still opened it. Should he try to read it in Romanian or should he invent the story?
He cleared his throat.
"Velkooký, Velkoústý", he tried. No, that didn't sound quite right. He would have to invent, then. "I guess it means, 'The man with the big mouth and the man with the big eyes'."
He opened the book, and started telling the story, page by page.
It was short; it only took him about twenty minutes. He put the book neatly back on the shelf. What else could he do? Drawing, maybe. He had never been good at it.
He took a pen and a paper and started drawing the two men of the tale. He didn't really try to make it anything beautiful. He directly went for childish instead.
"I should ask for colored pencils", he said out loud.
He was sure the Joker was watching him. Why would he not, if he could? Of course, he probably didn't spend his whole day in front of the monitor. Actually, Tim doubted he had changed his routine very much, otherwise Bruce and the others would have suspected he was the one to have abducted him.
What if the Joker was put back in Arkham? he abruptly wondered. The very idea was terrifying. He would really die here alone if that was the case. Except if he had given anyone instruction? Better not to count on someone.
Better not to think about this at all. Did you think about how many people died in car accidents in a year when you entered one? You didn't.
(More than thirty thousands in the US only.)
He took another paper and started drawing the Nightingale from Oscar Wilde's tale. Then he stopped abruptly.
"No, I didn't read that tale again, I can't draw it yet."
He put his drawing tools away. Deciding otherwise, he took back the pen to sign the drawing. He wrote 'Tim' in his best calligraphy. Finally satisfied, he tidied his desk and brought his present to the ground floor to put it on the trail. That wouldn't magically fix the lock, but well.
He went back up and kept talking to himself for the remaining hour. He stopped from time to time to remind himself this was all make-believe. He knew as much, but saying it clearly in his head before it became necessary felt like a good idea.
At lunch time, he went back downstairs. Nothing had changed but he pretended it had.
"What a good meal has been prepared for me!" he said, forcing himself to smile. "I sure will enjoy it!"
He went back upstairs to take his desk chair, carrying it carefully on the stairs, and settled it in front of the trail.
"Enjoy your meal!"
He took his cutlery and pretended to eat. He had seen someone do this in a movie, several years before. He hadn't realized what a torture that would be. He wasn't that hungry yet, though. He had eaten the previous evening. But if this lasted…
He kept pretending for half an hour before sighing.
"That was delicious. Thank you for cooking it for me!"
Taking back the chair to his desk took him only minutes. But then of course, he had to clean his plate and cutlery, and put them back on the trail. Considering the mess he had made in the hall while trying to open the door, he decided to clean up a bit.
That occupied him for some time. Then he went back upstairs and sang a few tones, to kill time. No, not kill, to pass the time.
He read another book, though not out loud this time. He wouldn't last long without food so he could allow himself to read several in a day. He knew it by heart, but well.
At dinner time, he played his act again. Then it was time to shower and make ready for the night. It was excruciating to pretend someone was reading him a new story, but he still did. He wondered if the Joker was actually reading one to the screen where he was looking at him. He probably was.
He wished he could hear, damn him.
He said goodnight, gave his wrists to someone who wasn't there, and pretended they were tied to his bed. He wouldn't put the manacles for real, even though they were in his nightstand: he wouldn't be able to open them in the morning.
He closed his eyes and prayed to fall asleep quickly.
sososo
The next day, the door was still locked and there was still no food. Tim decided to keep pretending everything was normal. Wasn't that what the Joker had asked him to do since the beginning? And each time he had been nice, he had earned something, like the meals. The Joker hadn't even taken them back when Tim had tried to leave again, until the door had been broken.
He showered, pretended to eat breakfast, then went back to his room to read. He also made some exercises because he was feeling the surplus of energy making him even more nervous. He was starting be hungry now but it only had been a day, so nothing worrying yet.
He should have made stocks in his room. He would have to, when he'd have access to food again.
He probably shouldn't exercise right now. But everything was normal, wasn't it? Except no, it wasn't. He had to remember that.
Seclusion was weakening his mind. Which probably was the Joker's intention since the beginning.
Of course it has been his scope. Why else to play with him like that?
Because it was funny, probably.
He was starting to talk to himself, Tim noted. That was no good. Only a week alone – alright, ten days, four hours, which would make – no, he had to stop calculating everything, but his brain felt so empty he had to keep it busy – enough. He should concentrate on his exercise. Those were good for him.
A big, shrieking noise echoed in the hall. Tim jumped on his feet, ready to go – then froze. Someone was working on the broken door. Someone who would most probably open it. But if he went downstairs before being authorized to see people again… It was going to stop, Tim was sure of it.
He sat on his bed, all the blood gone from his face, and waited. It was the most horrible, long wait of his life. Well, not really; it had been for the last few days. But now, hope was making it worse, somehow. If the door was being closed shut instead than being opened… He would break. He just would.
And he also would starve, incidentally.
The noise was deafening. They were cutting the door out of its frame, he realized. If he got downstairs when they would have, before they'd put the new one…
Tim shuddered. He would be punished. And this time, he probably wouldn't survive.
He tried hard not to sob, but started crying – again! He couldn't help himself. He was so exhausted… With this noise, he couldn't take a nap. It was way too early to go to bed anyway.
So he kept waiting, counting the parquet's plank to kill time. Pass time. Whatever.
He should ask for a dictionary. Maybe so he would at least be able to learn something. But before he could ask for anything, he had to behave well enough for the Joker to come back. He probably wouldn't be able to ask for anything for some time, now. He had been a bad boy. He could hear the Joker's tone while saying those words: 'You have been a bad, bad boy'.
Tim pulled his pillow and hugged it against his chest.
sososo
Jason had so many things to do. He kept handling Lex's accounting during his days and spent his nights at the Cave to either help Bruce or Dick, depending on who needed it. Bruce always had the priority, of course, because if he could do anything that would help find Tim sooner…
If neither had work for him, he could still train the brat. Damian was a good fighter, considering his age, but he still had a lot to learn. Discipline, for a start, and yeah, even Jason had the right to point it out considering his lack of it.
During week-ends, either Kon visited or he could train with Mercy. Occasionally, he'd spent an afternoon with Lex.
And yet. Yet his brain would keep working on Tim's disappearance.
The workforce Lex had put into place didn't have any lead to follow. They were kept ready, just in case, but Mercy hadn't had any work to give to them for weeks. It made Jason sick.
'Robin, you're alive!' kept echoing in his mind.
Since everything else wasn't enough to make it shut up, he ended up in Lex's workshop at the strangest hours. Not that deconstructing robotic parts and reading plans were any more effective, but… Well. It did keep his mind at least a little busy when he couldn't sleep.
"It's 3AM", Lex said from the doorframe.
Jason didn't bother to answer. There was a big, red digital clock on the wall. He knew what time it was.
"I dislike waking up alone", Lex continued.
Jason relaxed a bit at that. Lex hadn't been used to sleep with someone, when they'd started… whatever was what they had.
"I couldn't sleep", he answered at last, stating the obvious as well.
Lex's brain possibly had woken up since his first remark because he made a disapproving sound at the back of his throat. Instead than pointing out how useless Jason's words had been, though, he pulled a chair to sat at his side.
"The leg, this time?"
"I wanted a change." Jason kept working, falsely casual. "I found some plans in an old server. Partly biologic robotics. Was it…"
"No", Lex interrupted savagely.
All rest had deserted him. Jason had expected the subject to be touchy, but not that touchy.
"Alright. Show me how this one is done? I don't manage to get this part."
Lex relaxed as quickly as he had tensed. It was a lie, but Jason trusted it would become real after a few minutes of showing him how this was done.
Maybe what they had wasn't a relationship yet.
Maybe they were getting there.
sososo
There was a brand new door. On its right, the trail had been replaced with a new one, offering a meal and an empty box. On its top were drew a little screwdriver crossed with a little monkey wrench. The message was clear.
Tim still ate first, because he was starving and it was dinner time. He hadn't had lunch that day either because the works hadn't been done by midday. He ate slowly, savoring the meat and vegetable. There wasn't any bread he could keep so he simply cleaned his plate thoroughly. He thanked the empty air for his meal and brought the chair back upstairs.
Then, with a heavy heart, he gathered his tools and put them in the box. He cleaned his plate and went back to his room to shower and make himself ready for bedtime.
He had been defeated. He couldn't get away on his own. He had to behave – and hope Bruce would be there soon.
Pretending to listen to a story, he hoped, very much, that the door would be opened the next morning.
sososo
Dick woke up exhausted. Opening an eye, he realized sun hadn't even start rising, which meant it was way too early considering patrol had finished at 4AM.
Bruce wasn't in the bed.
He opened his second eye to check the red glow of the alarm's digits. 6:00, which explained why he still felt so tired.
And Bruce hadn't stopped working yet.
Dick slid out of the bed, grabbing Bruce's cashmere's robe and wrapped himself in it. He wandered in the corridors, not bothering with the lights. He knew the manor by heart anyway.
Everyone was asleep at this time of the morning. Even Batman should be.
Thankfully, Bruce had settled in the library instead than going down to the Cave. Despite the early hour – for them anyway, some people were probably getting ready for work – the room felt cozy. Dying embers were glowing in the fireplace. A desk lamp provided enough light for Bruce to read his files. The computers' screens were showing strange diagrams Dick wouldn't have understood with a clearer mind.
He put his arms around Bruce's shoulders.
"Hey."
"Mh."
"Do you intend to sleep tonight? Well. This morning, anyway."
"I'm not done yet."
Dick kissed his jaw.
"You didn't sleep last night either."
Bruce frowned at last.
"You sound like Alfred."
"We worry about you." Dick whacked the back of his head preventively. "And don't you dare. We also do worry about Tim. A lot."
Silence. Dick knew better than to say anything else. He waited.
"It's been two months", Bruce said at last.
"Tim is a strong kid. He's Robin", Dick pointed out.
"It's my responsibility to protect him."
Dick sighed, pulling Bruce closer.
"I feel like it's mine, too, you know? Tim is my little brother."
Bruce looked at the screen blankly. Or maybe thoughtfully. Sometimes, it was hard to tell, and Dick was tired.
"I still have no clue."
"We'll find him."
"In what state?"
Dick shuddered. He, too, was afraid of this. To find Tim's body would be horrible. To find him broken… might be worse.
The longer he was away, the more they had to hope he was dead. And that – that was a terrible thought.
"Two months isn't such a long time."
"In the hands of the Joker?"
Dick froze.
"It's not the Joker. Is it? Do you have anything that might…"
"No. I'm just talking worst case scenario."
Dick didn't relax entirely, but still a bit. If it was the Joker… He'd rather not think about it.
"Maybe it was Talia. I'm surprised she didn't claim her son back yet. I mean, she dropped Damian on you to distract you from her plans…"
"Mhn."
"Not sleeping doesn't make your mind sharper, you know. You actually lose time."
Bruce closed his eyes for a moment. He looked tense and tired. He looked at the end of his rope. Dick wished he could do something to help – but he was helping already. He was being Batman while Bruce searched for Tim, and not Bruce nor Dick could duplicate themselves to work even more than they currently did.
"I don't manage to sleep even when I try", Bruce suddenly say. "So better to use those hours constructively."
In how many ways could he break Dick's heart?
"Come to bed. Please. I'll stay awake to make sure you sleep."
Bruce didn't seem convinced, but he heard how tense Dick was now. He followed, reluctantly.
Ten minutes later, he was sleeping in Dick's arms.
At 8, they both were back in the library.
sososo
He was smelling coffee. Tim opened his eyes. It was morning, he was sure. And he was smelling coffee and sugar. It was impossible; the tray always presented hot food but not enough so for the smell to travel upstairs.
Which meant the kitchen door was opened.
He got up and fought the reflex to directly go to check it. Instead, he went to the bathroom and showered. The white spots were back on his skin, everywhere now. They were starting to leave more permanent white patches on his face and shoulders. He tried not to think about it too hard.
He combed his hair and dressed. Then waited. He had to be called downstairs. Please, make it that he would be called downstairs.
"Baby! Breakfast is ready!"
Tim ran. He couldn't help it, he just did. He jumped over the last five steps of the stairs and only slowed down when arriving in front of the opened door. His eyes were blurring with tears. It was open. He hadn't been able to open it himself but now it was open, the Joker was back!
Tim entered the kitchen, half expecting to be punished for doing so. But he wasn't – and the Joker was there, smiling at him, wearing a brand new purple apron.
"I-I'm sorry I ran" Tim said in a strangled voice. "I just missed you. A lot."
Damn, he was crying again. Worse, he sobbed. But he couldn't, he couldn't help it.
"Aw, no need to be sorry, baby. Come here."
Tim went. The Joker hugged him and he let him. God, he even hugged back, crying even harder, weeping without control.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! I will be a good boy now!"
"You always have been a good boy, baby", the Joker answered, patting his back. "You only had to realize you were."
"Y-yes."
"So, shall we eat now?"
Tim took a step back and smiled faintly. The Joker was staring at his wet face with greed.
"Yes, please, let's. Is that candy I am smelling?"
"I thought I would make today special!"
"Thank you, you always think of everything. And you make every day special", Tim added.
That earned him a proud grin.
"Good boy."
His heart rate increased at the compliment. It felt good. It should not!
"May I help you with the service?"
"Oh thank you, babe. Here it is."
Tim carried the main plate to the table while the Joker served coffee to both of them, with three sugar each. Breakfast included custard tart and chocolate cupcakes. It was sickly but Tim didn't care and ate it all.
"It was delicious, dear", he said when he was done.
"I'm thrilled it pleased you! Now that you are behaving, maybe you might even help me with next meal. What do you think?"
Tim smiled, almost sincere.
"I would be glad to."
sososo
Lex hang up the phone, frowning. He had let one of his directors handle an important negotiation, back in Metropolis, when he shouldn't have: the results were catastrophic. He had to go back there and show his face to local politics before they forget who was ruling the show.
"Aouch!" Kon protested, receiving a can on the back of the head. "How do you do this?"
"You're just extremely bad at it", Jason mocked, getting out of his hideout. "I've been holding my breath, that's all. Aren't you able to hear my heartbeat?"
"In the middle of Gotham? How could I differentiate it from all the noises around?"
"Buhu, I can't handle my superpowers", Jason mocked.
Lex smiled. Kon had kept coming regularly despite them not being in Metropolis. By itself that was satisfactory. Then again, Lex had meticulously avoided any business the boy could have frowned upon those last few weeks.
However, that made handling the power Lex did have more complicated than it had been.
"It's not that easy!" Kon protested.
"I sure know where you are all the time without any power. You're just lazy."
"I'm not!"
Another source of satisfaction was to see Kon and Jason get along so well. Even though Jason was really busy with Bats' work – Lex frowned at the idea – he always made time for Kon whenever he visited.
"You are. How else do you explain that someone with less powers than you manages to hurt you?" Jason pointed out. "This could have been kryptonite", he added, pointing the can.
"It's not fair! I can't do anything against kryptonite!"
Jason whacked the back of Kon's head.
"I can't do anything against bullets or your punches, you idiot. You have a team, don't you? Young something. Robin was even part of it. What will you do the time when one of your teammates is hurt because you were too busy moaning about how you can't handle your own powers?"
"I wouldn't…"
"Kal El can hear someone's heartbeat from cities away. If you could concentrate enough to do the same, maybe you'd have heard something was wrong with Tim when he's been abducted."
That was a low blow. Lex entirely approved.
Kon looked like Superman had punched him in the face.
"How can you say that?"
"Because it's true", Jason answered coldly. "Now get over it and make sure it doesn't happen again."
Kon seemed ready to punch him in the face. Jason smirked. Kon's hands twitched with need. Jason raised his eyebrows, provoking.
Lex concentrated on his work for a few minutes. His son was in good hands.
He hadn't gone through his first email when he heard a crack of bones. He glanced over his shoulder; Kon looked absolutely shocked.
"You didn't dodge!" he screamed, panicking. "Are you okay?"
"Nhh."
A purple bruise was flourishing on Jason's face. The teenager nodded nonetheless.
"Y' n'ded t' hit me."
"That's not a reason for you to let me! Oh God. Batman is going to kill me."
"No need to wait for him", Lex intervened in a pleasant voice.
Kon froze. Jason tried to smirk – but stopped very quickly. His jaw was most probably broken, how was he not crushed by the pain? Lex wondered. Well. He had been waiting for the opportunity to inject him those nanomachines, hadn't he?
"Sit down before you faint", Lex ordered.
Jason glared, but obeyed.
"You are going to go to laboratory number 796-A, on floor -2 from Lex Tower", Lex told Kon. "There is material there that I need transported here so I can fix this. Since you're responsible for this situation, I suggest you go there as quickly as you can and come back without breaking anything else."
Kon didn't wait for precisions; he opened the window and disappeared in a blink of an eye.
Jason was smiling with his eyes.
"'ano 'ines?" he tried to ask.
Lex frowned.
"Stop talking. He should be back soon with everything I need."
Jason cast him a knowing glance. He knew the whole material was already in Gotham.
"He needed to think about what you said. And I need to find how to punish him for what he just did to you."
"o' a pro'em."
"Yes, it is a problem. If he handles his anger that badly with allies… and no, stop trying to answer me. We will finish this conversation when you're healed. You'll only make it worse."
Some people would have enjoyed the opportunity not to have Jason protest at everything he said. But there was a reason why Lex kept him around, after all, and it wasn't Jason's good dispositions.
Except in bed, possibly.
"Let's get downstairs", Lex decided.
He called Mercy for a wheelchair, to Jason's obvious displeasure and secret relief. The injection was easy to make; he only needed to monitor its results but already knew everything would be fine. It had been tested even before he used it on himself, after all.
Jason was waiting for the results when Kon finally came back, blushing – and empty handed.
He'd only realized on arrival that he hadn't been told which material had to be brought back.
sososo
A shriek startled Tim awake. He tried to fumble around before remembering his wrists were bounded. The howling sound kept going, acute, intense, like a wave, pulling his brain away from its hazy sleep. Wait a minute… No one could scream like that. This was an alarm.
He was awake now, enough so to start worrying. An alarm. What if there was fire somewhere? (He didn't dare to hope someone had entered the place.) (Better not even think about it.) But if there was fire, he wouldn't be able to escape!
Then, as suddenly as it had started, the alarm stopped.
Silence fell. Tim pricked up his ears; nothing. Silence was as heavy as the shriek had been piercing. Tim waited for a while but nothing happened. Well, he had no choice but to wait for the next day to ask the Joker what had happened.
He was getting used at everything being strange and unexplained. That was bad, but he couldn't help it.
He closed his eyes, still nervous but reassured by the absence of any strange noise. Maybe the Joker was just experimenting. Or some of his thugs had walked on a trigger. (If they were underground, did he have one of his lairs upstairs? Or was it a common building, like a warehouse or offices?). Or the gorilla was back and had a nightmare. Or something.
Alright, maybe he was a little stressed by this. He couldn't help but to listen very hard. No noise at all was, somehow, exactly as frightening as the alarm had been. Actually, no; it was terrifying. Tim swallowed. The Joker had been back for two week now.
There had been baking, new stories – God, Tim's eyes had filled with tears he'd barely managed to hold back under the Joker's hungry gaze. It was humiliating how grateful Tim felt for every minute spent in his company. And every morning, he awoke at an early hour and waited for this jailor, counting minutes, petrified at the idea he might not come back.
Silence was a terrible, terrible thing, only underlined by the previous shriek. But at night, it was normal; he should have gotten used to it. The Joker had been back every morning. He ought not to think about the fact he might decide not to, someday, just to play with his mind. He would be there in a few hours. He just had to sleep and the morning would come quickly.
Determined, Tim closed his eyes. Since his mind apparently decided it had to stay awake nonetheless, he started reciting mentally the last novel the Joker read him, but backward – otherwise, it wouldn't have occupied him quite enough.
He got through the first ten pages, remembering how the Joker had turned them. The words were more and more blurry. Little by little, Tim's thoughts melted away, forgetting the strangeness of this acoustic incursion. Soon, morning…
The shriek started again.
Tim opened his eyes wide, trying to hear anything else than the alarm. What was it!?
Was it used to cover some other noise?
Tim's heart rate accelerated. He really should stop letting his imagination get the best of him. He wouldn't know for sure before the morning. If ever. The Joker would probably pretend nothing happened at all. He would, in his place.
That's when he realized what the Joker was, in fact doing. Sleep deprivation was a very effective torture which would make any subject more malleable. If pushed for long enough, it could even trigger confusion up to memory lapses or hallucinations. And it was so easy; you just had to keep the victim awake.
Tim inhaled deeply. He had to sleep through this. The sound was deafening, but he had to concentrate, to ignore it… He always slept quite deeply, to Bruce's displeasure. He wouldn't awake even while feeling a threat, because he slept too hard. However, his high level of energy caused by the forced inactivity since his abduction wouldn't help.
He still had to try.
He closed his eyes. That only made the sound worse, because then there was nothing else: no visual, no thoughts because his brain had been so empty for the last weeks, starved from any new information. His throat tightened. He couldn't do this. He just couldn't. Bruce had trained him and, before him, Tim had trained by himself, to meditation techniques, but he just couldn't, he. Could. Not. He was exhausted, he…
The alarm stopped. Tim sobbed. He knew it would start again.
He curled in his bed, certain the Joker was watching. He was enjoying this, Tim knew. Maybe he should make the show even more enjoyable, maybe then the Joker would let him sleep? He started crying, sobbing softly. Maybe that would calm him down. He loved it, when Tim cried. Please, make this be enough.
"Please", he said out loud. "Please…"
This time, he didn't realize he was falling asleep.
But he did notice when he was awaken by the hated sound once again – and, considering how exhausted he felt, this was less than an hour later. Tim bit his lip. It was still salty from his previous tears. He waited; what else could he do? He waited, and the alarm eventually stopped.
He didn't manage to cry again this time. Nor to sleep.
The alarm sounded twice more that night.
sososo
Of course the Joker denied it all. An alarm in the night? What a silly idea. Tim would almost have believed he had hallucinated if it wasn't, you know the Joker telling him his senses were wrong. He would rather have believed Crane while under the influence of one of his drugs.
Tim went back to sleep the day after with some apprehension but, of course, nothing happened. The next night neither, nor the next.
After a week, he awoke again, though – but not because of a sound. Because of a punch. The false Batman was back and, this time, a masked Superman accompanied him.
The Batman pointed at his legs. Tim's eyes widened.
"No. No, no, stop!"
The Superman grinned and put his hands on his ankles, not only pinning his legs to the mattress but spreading them apart. Tim went white. That fear, however, was not met. Instead, Batman – a false one! – punched him again on the face. Then again. Then again.
Tim started crying, not even bothering to struggle.
sososo
It happened again. The alarm or the beatings, usually Batman alone but sometimes accompanied by his fake Superman friend. Superman would hold him and Batman beat him, never the other way around. Once, Superman wiped gently his tears from his face – then slapped him, and laughed.
Tim was exhausted.
This went on for weeks. Months? He wasn't sure anymore.
Every night, he laid in his bed, eyes wide opened, both hoping and dreading to fall asleep.
The worst about all this being, the Joker didn't even hate him. No, the Joker wasn't a hateful, angry man. He was a loving one, who cared about the people he saw has close to him. He broke them with tailor-made affection.
Except, of course, he only did this to Tim to get to the Batman.
The thought should not make him feel miserable. This was, after all, the Joker. Who ever wanted his love? Even just his interest was bad-possibly-deadly news.
Then again, Tim was getting all the downsides without it even being addressed to him directly.
(But this was The Joker! Some still sane part of his brain screamed.)
(Its voice was starting to get weaker.)
"Aw, little one, you look all sad. What's wrong, my dear?"
See? The Joker saw when Tim was feeling bad. He did care. Because he liked to shatter those he loved didn't mean he wasn't able to, actually, love.
Tim felt sick in the stomach.
"I am fine, thank you."
"Hush, baby, I know you aren't. Please tell me."
The Joker patted his lap, inviting. Tim hesitated but he didn't really have a choice; he went and sat there.
"Tell everything to uncle J."
"It's nothing, really…"
Nothing he wanted to share. To anyone. Tim's throat felt raw. He couldn't want his love. This was absurd. He wasn't an absurd person. He was a sane, joyful, gentle one.
He was a good boy.
He had to answer truthfully.
(No one ever wanted to be a naughty boy.)
(Not when the Joker was around.)
(Except maybe on purpose? Would the Joker love that, for Tim to be naughty so he could punish him hard enough to make him cry? The Joker loved it when he cried…)
(God, he was so tired…)
"Baby boy, hush those thoughts. Tell me. Uncle J. will help you sort all this out."
(Insane, insane!)
"I… am trying to be a good boy for you", Tim whispered.
"And you are! Oh yes. Not at the beginning, but you learnt."
"Then why don't you love me?" Tim blurted out, unable to stop himself.
The Joker look startled. Then he noticed how Tim's eyes were full of tears and he switched to… hungry wasn't the word. Possessive, maybe.
Tim shuddered.
"Where did you get the notion that I didn't love you?" the Joker asked.
"Robins are only there to make Batman suffer."
Tim paled. He had said that without even thinking, without blinking, as if it was as natural as the blue in the sky.
(Batman needs a Robin.)
Tim started to tremble. Nothing made sense anymore.
He had to sleep. Without being terrified. He had to stop being terrified. Please.
"Hush, hush baby boy. Your worries are unfounded."
"But you captured me to get to Batman…"
"Yes."
"And you told me that. That Robins are only there to make Batman suffer."
"Yes."
Tim looked at him, not understanding. If that was true, then how could his worries be unfounded?
"That was before, my boy."
"Before…?"
"Yes." The Joker kissed his forehead. That shouldn't feel good. "Now, you aren't a Robin anymore."
Something broke inside Tim's chest.
(He was Robin, his name was Tim Drake, Bruce had adopted him and loved him…)
He wasn't Robin?
(He was Robin! He was a good person!)
He didn't protest out loud, because the Joker would only argue. Instead, he put his head on the Joker's shoulder, huddling up against him. He could almost fall asleep there.
(On the Joker's shoulder?)
"So… You really do love me?"
He was whining. Tim hated it.
Another kiss, on his hair. Tim relaxed.
"Of course I do, my boy."
"I really thought…"
An arm, around his waist.
"Aw, dearie. You're right. It was for him, at the beginning. But now, now… I got to know you!"
A kiss again. Tim shuddered, needing. Physical contact, he analyzed; warmth; love. Those were a basic needs for human beings. His reaction was perfectly normal. It didn't mean he was insane.
"Now, you are perfect", the Joker whispered in his ear.
Two tears slid on Tim's cheeks. Because he wanted the Joker to say that again.
Even if that meant being insane.
"You look tired, my boy. Those nightmares again?"
This is because of you! Tim wanted to scream. But it wouldn't work. On the contrary; the Joker would push him away and punish him and…
He felt so exhausted.
"Yes… I don't manage to sleep."
"I don't like that, baby boy. Sleep is important. Say, why don't you sleep in my bed tonight, mh? I will be there to chase the nightmares away."
Tim froze. Sleeping. With the Joker. In his bed.
"I'm… not sure…"
"I just want to be there to reassure you, dear. Don't worry."
The Joker had this way… not to threaten him, but to offer him a choice between a devil he knew and one he didn't. Which could be more manageable than the lack of sleep.
It wasn't much of a choice, because Tim would beg on his knees to get some uninterrupted sleep, even if that meant getting it next to the Joker.
"I would like that. If you are sure you don't mind…"
"Well, of course, we can't do that all the time, it would be improper. But if it helps you… You have been a very good boy those last few weeks. I'm proud of you."
Tim shuddered, crying a bit, silently.
"Thank you. I do my best."
The Joker kissed his cheek, this time, barely refraining from licking his tears.
"Good boy."
sososo
Tim ought to feel frantic, or at the very least worried, but he was just too tired to care. The Joker had bound him in the usual way, but to his bed this time, then had disappeared into the bathroom. He was back soon, grinning, wearing a purple nightgown with a smiling Gloomy bear and an apple green nightcap with a matching purple pompon.
He was actually going to sleep there.
Maybe Tim wasn't tired enough, in the end.
"So, what are we going to read today?"
"Anything you like", Tim answered politely.
The Joker nodded as if that had been wised, then sat on his side of the bed – which was thankfully a double, not a single like Tim's – and opened the book he had already chosen.
Despite his exhaustion, Tim listened greedily to every single word. It was some altered version of the Sleeping Beauty in which the prince didn't kiss her awake up but raped her in her sleep. She only opened her eyes when the twin babies she gave birth to started sucking her breasts – and even then, the tale only became darker.
It was a harsh version, far from the brothers Grimm's, but it was nonetheless new and that made it marvelous. The book was a thick one; Tim hoped it included more such tales for him to read.
"The end!" The Joker finally declared, full of glee with the tale's success.
"Thank you. It was great."
Tim didn't have to lie, even though he would have preferred more traditional stories or even better, a newspaper. He wasn't sure anymore of the date. He'd tried to keep counting but tiredness had blurred the days together – and now that the Joker had finished reading, Tim felt a crushing need to sleep.
Then the Joker put the book away and laid down next to him, under the blankets.
Tim froze.
"Good night, pretty one!" The Joker said cheerfully.
And he turned off the light.
Tim couldn't move. His body felt heavy but… The Joker was right there. He could hear his breath, almost felt it against his neck.
It was a noise in the night.
Someone helped him, it was… reassuring. He wasn't alone. If one of his so-called nightmare woke him up, he wouldn't have to face them on his own. It was such a relief…
The sound lulled Tim to asleep before he could finish his thought.
sososo
Dick dodged Damian's blow then jumped over the kid's head to kick him in the back. Damian gasped, blushing with rage, but quickly turned around to counter-attack. He didn't quite manage to bottle up his anger but put on a cool face which would have fooled most people – like, people who didn't deal with Bruce on a daily basis.
"Come on, Damian, no need to frown!"
The kid's mouth twisted with anger. Dick grinned. Alright, maybe Jason was right about Damian. Not that Jason had said anything, God forbid he would admit out loud anything near liking someone, but he trained Damian whenever he was around.
Sometimes Jason pretended to do so just to keep himself on edge; other times he would say he was bored. Those probably weren't entirely lies: monitoring duty was boring and Jason obviously missed the roofs.
But still, he was training the kid without anyone asking him to, almost every night. Most of the time, he didn't need to actually sit at the computer. He only had to be available if they needed external eyes on an action or to dispatch them if an emergency arose; in both cases, staying in ears' reach was more than enough.
Anyway, that made Dick curious. Maybe Jason was maturing – and he was, somehow, under Luthor tutelage – and maybe the kid was worth the effort. Dick had tried to talk with him during daytime but Damian wouldn't let anyone near without biting, so after a few months Dick had decided to go for the easy road for once in his life and started training him as well.
He had not expected the brief joy on Damian's face, even less his surprise. That's when Dick had realized they had been so busy looking for Tim and worrying about Luthor's growing influence on Jason – on Jason for Christ's sake, how did he manage? – that they had paid close to no attention to the kid they actually did have in the house.
Well, Damian was only one out of two, considering how Dick had to drag Bruce to bed every night and remind him to eat. If he ever found himself wondering when Bruce last went to the bathroom, he'd cry his misery on Alfred's shoulder – then buy Bruce fucking diapers. Maybe then the point would get across.
Or Bruce would thank him for the gain of time.
That was beside the point.
Since Damian had been pleased at the attention, Dick kept going. Soon, they established a working relationship.
"Stop jumping around like an animal, Grayson!"
Well, sort of.
"Don't insult your enemies when you don't even manage to touch them, it only demonstrates frustration."
"I am not frustrated!"
"Very convincing."
Damian grit his teeth. Even the most ingenuous people ended up learning sarcasm when frequenting Jason – and the kid sure hadn't been one of them to begin with.
He attacked him with hardly bottled rage, which made only easier for Dick to dodge. As Robin, he had always fought around his enemies instead than against, driving them crazy by dancing gracefully on the battlefield without deigning to get hurt. He had honed this skill he honed as Nightwing, though he had also had to learn to fight harder, not having Batman's at his side anymore.
It worked wonders on Damian who only got angrier with his lack of success.
"Stop it and fight me!"
"I'm tiring you. Isn't this tactic worth another?"
"It's most annoying."
"Isn't one supposed to annoy one's enemies?"
Damian glared. Then stopped attacking at all and smirked, waiting to see what Dick would do now that he quit wasting energy by trying to catch him.
Finally.
Dick attacked, putting himself in reach of Damian's attacks. Since he was moving forward, it became harder for him to twist away from any blow. Damian was experienced despites his young age and didn't hesitate to seize the opportunity.
The blow landed on Dick's flank. However, he wasn't a skinny 14 year old anymore. He kept going and, a few seconds later, Damian was on the ground.
Dick smiled at him.
"Good move."
Damian looked disappointed with himself, but the praise made him sulky rather than angry.
"You got me anyway."
"I have more experience. You're much better than I was at the same age."
"T-t. Of course I am. You were a mere acrobat."
Dick laughed. He had taken his first steps on a gymnastic beam, learning to fly at the same time he learnt to walk. It was the best way to ensure he'd never be afraid of heights – and it did work.
"We were both raised in our parents business since childhood."
Damian blinked, getting back on his feet. Obviously, he had never thought about it that way. Dick had included Bruce on purpose; after a while, a thin smile curled the kid's lips, soon disappearing behind his usual coldness.
"It's been enough for today. Take a shower; I'm going upstairs."
To check on Bruce, he didn't specify. Damian cast him a look but didn't comment and walked toward the Cave's showers. Dick climbed the stairs. He, too, was sticky with sweat. Damian had had him run around for quite some time.
Bruce was of course working in the library. He had spent a few days outside the previous week, poking at informants, but no one saw anything. There was a very strong chance that if Tim was still alive, he wasn't in Gotham anymore. Dick was afraid to point it out.
"Hey. Anything new?"
"You would have been the first one to know."
Despite the harsh tone, it wasn't a rebuke. Dick kissed Bruce's hair, bending carefully not to touch him. That actually startled Bruce out of his work.
"Are you hurt?"
"Just sweaty. I wouldn't want to stain your Armani shirt."
Bruce raised his eyebrows.
"I have stained a few of those with blood. I wouldn't mind."
Dick smiled, grateful for the warm words. Bruce seemed to be in a good mood. Maybe he should take advantage.
"You are more nervous than me and that's saying something. Why don't you come with me to take some air?"
Bruce frowned.
"I don't have time to go for a walk."
"Don't I know that? I meant for patrol." Dick grinned. "It would be so romantic."
Bruce laughed. Yes! Dick leaned against him to kiss him but quickly retreated, holding out his hand. Bruce hesitated but, feeling the loss of his warmth, gave up and took it. Dick couldn't help but to grin widely and dragged him back to the stairs.
They would be patrolling together! It would be the first time since their relationship started. Dick felt as thrilled as it had been a date.
He reached for his Nightwing costume which Alfred had safely put away in a cupboard after his last JLA meeting. Dick felt spoiled.
Then, suddenly, something felt amiss. He frowned, looking around. Nothing was out of place, no one had broken in… Then he saw the showers' door wide open and it hit him.
The Cave was empty – but no one exited it through the library.
Damian was gone.
sososo sososo
I did tell you "the Joker" was a warning, right?
Please let me know if you like it so far :)