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Chapter Text

It was supposed to stop with him. Everything should have ended after him. Bruce should have seen the aftermath and finally gotten over his stupid morals and codes, just this once and ended it. Bruce had seen the footage. He’d seen the things done to Jason that year where he’d been lost to him. He’d seen the way they had broken him in those damned traffic cone colors. He made sure of it. And that should have been the end of it. But of course, nothing was ever that cut and dry. Not with the bat involved, anyways.

At the very least, there had been some hope in Jason’s heart that Bruce would let go of his habit of dragging children into it. Dick had been a fully fledged and independent vigilante when Jason last saw him, and well, Jason was removed from the picture. So, there had been hope that maybe with the first sidekick gone and the second “dead”, Bruce would simply learn to work alone, like he always advertised. Or at least, that it would be Jason at his side again.

Wrong. Jason had been proven painfully wrong. Once he was coherent, the first thing he’d asked about was Bruce. His father. His father would be worried. His father would be coming. He was freed, he was healed somehow, and his father would finally be able to come for him. To bring him home.

“And what makes you think that?” The cold, almost amused tone of the man in front of him had confused him. He hadn’t understood what the implications were. Hadn’t known that he’d already been replaced with another clueless kid running around in bright colors at Bruce’s side. Clueless to how deep the dangers working with Batman truly ran.

“He’s- He’s looking for me.” Jason’s voice sounded almost too desperate, even for himself. “He was close, I know he was close, I-”

“He was looking, yes. But he was far from being close, child.” A chuckle, as cold as the rest of the man’s words. “He failed you. He was never going to find you in time. You’re actually quite lucky, you know.” Ra’s Al Ghul walked up to the young bird, cupping his chin. “The detective failed. And when he realized he had, he gave up. He took another boy in, how very true to his nature. There’s already another bird flapping about in your colors.”

“Then how am I-” Jason’s eyes stung, his brows furrowed in disbelief. “How am I lucky?” He bit out, jerking his face away from the cold hand.

“Because here, with us, you can be so much more, Jason. You can do what the detective cannot in Gotham. With our help, of course.” Ra’s Al Ghul set his hands behind his back, turning to walk a few steps away again. “You know the worst of the scum in that city. You know what needs to be done.”

Jason made a face, brows pinching. “Batman takes care of them. Batman-”

“-let the Joker walk free, even after receiving the footage.”

“What?” Jason felt his heart drop, his stomach lurching.

“When we rescued you, we prioritized the evidence of what had happened and your wellbeing. We sent footage to the detective of what had transpired. His response.. Well, let’s just say, I may have chosen to tell a little white lie about the state of yourself when we realized he could not do what was best for you. See, you must understand..” Ra’s Al Ghul turned to him, a sympathetic smile on his face. Even Jason could see past it. “It’s better he think you aren’t alive. By the time your body was healed enough to awaken you, he’d already replaced you. That clown was still staining his city, along with all the others who hurt you. I’ve decided that you are better off here, where you can be trained right, and be given the means to finally clean up the mess that the detective refuses to. Here, you can grow. In Gotham, you were doomed to suffocate.”

“You-!” The more he spoke, the more Jason… The more he became enraged. Not just at Bruce, for replacing him, for failing him, for letting everybody who hurt him keep running free, but at Ra’s Al Ghul for assuming what was best for him. For lying to his father. For taking him out of Gotham. For- Jason moved to run at the man, but a woman’s voice, as sharp, but much less amused than the old man’s cut in behind him.

“That would be ill-advised.” She said simply, walking into the room behind Jason. He turned quickly, hands up, ready to defend himself, but his shoulders dropped when she didn’t match his challenge, only smiling. It wasn’t warm.

“I’m glad to see you’re well enough to be combative. The treatment was quite tedious to get your body working right again.” She mused, walking up to him, and tentatively resting her hand on his shoulder. It felt- it felt oddly familiar, and the more he tried to recognize why, the more it hurt his head. “But please understand, my father only has your best interest in mind keeping you here. He’s right. Bruce cannot be what you need. What you want. We can help you. We can be what you need.” She assured him, and in that moment, Jason felt himself let go of something he’d held onto for so long.

Faith. Faith in Batman. Faith in Bruce. He’d failed. The months upon months of torture at the hands of people who Bruce could have long since put an end to were the real proof. The League, they meant nothing in this situation. He didn’t trust this woman, and he sure as hell didn’t trust the old man. But where Batman had failed him, they’d filled in. Where Batman made Robin have restraint, even against the worst of Gotham, these people seemed to understand that Gotham needed more. And well, Jason was curious. Curious as to what they were claiming they could offer. Curious as to how, after everything, they had seemed to mend his body. So what if Batman wouldn’t approve? What was Batman, other than a man who couldn’t even protect his own son.

.

.

Jason admitted to himself now, he had been rather rash. But between having his body quite literally stitched back together, and then having Bruce’s failure and his replacement tossed into his face, he had his own reasons to have been rash. To be angry. To perhaps put an overdramatic plan into motion with the help of the League of Assassins. It would benefit Gotham. It would do more than give criminals a slap on the wrist after each death they caused under Batman’s watch. It would teach Batman a lesson. It would give Jason closure.

And it all started with actually locating the new bird in town. Well, by now, he was hardly new. It had been more than a few years of training and further healing of his body, and months of planning, for Jason to be prepared to finally enter Gotham again. By now, the new Robin should be just the Robin. It should be rather easy, between himself and the kid. Now, don’t get him wrong. His whole plan revolved around how children should never be in this line of business. How everything that happened to Jason shouldn’t have happened, not because Batman should have made it to him in time, but instead because Bruce should never have put him in that damned costume in the first place. The whole point was there was no space for a child in that line of work, and Batman should have never had a Robin.

But Damian was, as much as it pained him to say, different. Damian was raised by the daughter of Ra’s Al Ghul. Damian was ten times more skilled than Jason was by the end of his Robin training when they first met. And Damian had only been about eight when they first met, but he swore the kid had a scowl that could put Batman to shame. And the skills that not even a young Bruce Wayne likely had, if watching him take down three adult men in the span of a minute was anything to go by. It was frankly impressive, if Jason could get past the fact that this was an eight year old. He should be watching Disney movies and playing with friends or something. Not learning how to take down and kill targets. Not being made into a child soldier. It pulled on something in Jason. It made him angry, outraged, it made him sad. And not just for Damian, but also for the boy who’d died in that abandoned Arkham wing. Jason may not have actually died, but the Jason who had woken up and spoken to Ra’s Al Ghul and joined the League, he would never be the same as that kid. But Damian was different. Damian proved to Jason just how serious he took his training. Damian proved that whether he should be there or not, he fit in. He was more than capable. And Jason had no authority to do a thing about it. He was too busy as it was with himself.

Honestly, it was a lot less shocking than it should have been to find out this was Bruce’s son. Talia told him everything only a day after she finally introduced him to Damian. More than he thinks he needed to know, or even wanted to. But he listened, and he found himself honestly liking her more by the end of it. She never wanted this for Damian, but there was no choice here thanks to Ra’s Al Ghul. She had done her best to protect her son, even at the cost of distancing herself from him. She had done everything in her power to ensure that he would survive.But his time here was coming to an end. Damian wanted, needed, a new purpose. And Talia had one for him.

To go with Jason. Which, of course, Jason had at first refused. Brushing aside the fact that this was the son of the man who let him die, and the last thing he wanted to do was deliver another child soldier to him, he couldn’t imagine possibly bringing Damian back to Gotham with him. There was no place for a child at his side when he returned. He wasn’t Batman. It was dangerous. But really, wasn’t here just as dangerous? Was Gotham any worse than a literal league of Assassins? At least if he was with Jason, Jason could protect him. From the league, and from the dangers of Gotham he knew like the back of his hand. At least with Jason, Jason could control what missions he went on. Damian wasn’t him. Damian was capable, and treating him like a child would get neither of them anywhere. But he was sure he could work around it to keep this kid out of the same situation he had fallen into. He could let Damian be useful without risking finding him chained, beaten and broken. And maybe, selfish and childish as this hope was, he could be a fun older brother. Show Damian how to lighten up a bit.

Which was how Jason Todd found himself back in the streets of Gotham, Damian Wayne at his side, walking through the once familiar alleys and stepping into a warehouse discreetly afforded by Ra’s Al Ghul. Not discreetly enough that Batman wouldn’t eventually become curious, but they were in Crime Alley territory. And from all of Jason’s provided information, no amount of shady business over here was dragging the bat in, unless it happened to be a direct invitation. Jason already knew that, but it seemed that in his absence, the neglect of certain parts of the city had only gotten worse.

Damian wrinkled his nose as they stepped in, but had otherwise said nothing.He didn’t need to. Jason knew exactly what he was thinking. The conditions of living had certainly changed, and Jason only snorted a bit at the response.

“Yeah, no chance at five star hotels or servants here, bat boy.” Damian narrowed his eyes at the nickname. Neither of them held Batman in high favors. Damian was clearly more fond of his mother. At first, Jason hadn’t been able to understand how he could favor either of them. It had taken getting to know her over the past four years for him to realize what could possibly have made him so attached to her. It was that she did care. She didn’t show it conventionally. She showed her love through training. She showed her love by building him into what he was. The same as she did with Jason, he’d eventually realized. Her detachment had never been for disinterest, or disapproval. And sure, that was something. But it still didn’t make room for attachment. It only made room for some kind of trust, he figured. Even Bruce had been like a father to him out of costume. But even outside of training, Jason still didn’t see any signs of Damian and Talia being family.

It was only when Jason realized that Talia was the only one who put her hand on Jason’s back when he was knocked down in training, the only one who offered him a hand up, the only one who told him of his improvement, that he began to understand. Just as Damian had learned since birth. Talia did, by League standards, show her care well. It was such a subtle language of love and care, and yet he picked up on it all the same as time went on. When another assassin was felled in training, he wrapped himself up, licked his own wounds. When Damian or Jason fell, it was often Talia who cleaned their wounds, wrapping them and lecturing them about how to do better next time. Not because she was disappointed or angry, but because she was worried. Because she knew they could do better. Because she wanted them to do better. And that- Well, all things considered, Jason was grateful for it. And he was glad Damian had at least that. He never felt insecure that his mother didn’t at least care about him. And Jason came to find her as much of a comfort as Damian. Their connection didn’t lie in Bruce Wayne. It flourished in Talia Al Ghul. The reason both of them kept surviving.

“Tt. Of course. Mother already told me what to expect here.” Damian crossed his arms, standing in the living room as Jason dropped a bag onto a counter and pulled out a teapot, thanking the league for the pre-furnished safehouse once more.

“Good. I got to live like you for a while, now you get to live like me.”

Damian said nothing in response, perching himself on the arm of the couch, opening up the laptop he’d brought in his own bag. Jason didn’t bother him, knowing exactly what Damian wanted. To start their plan. To find this new Robin. To probably meet his father at least once. To-

“You said there would be plenty of articles to study on Robin’s appearances.” Damian’s voice broke through his thoughts, and Jason cocked his head to the side.

“Aren’t there? There’s always stalkers around Gotham, chasing vigilantes around on the rooftops and the streets.” He walked away from the boiling water, looking over Damian’s shoulder. Actually, Jason clearly remembered a very specific kid that had been chasing him and Batman for quite some time. It was more than once that Robin caught that kid and scolded him. He briefly wondered about what happened, and ignoring the pessimistic assumption that he’d probably run into more trouble than he could handle with Batman distracted, and Robin gone, he dismissed that thought. It didn’t matter now.

“They’re all dated from over a year ago.” Damian said, frowning and showing Jason the laptop. And- Yeah, he was right. The last time Robin had been spotted was over a year ago. That wasn’t right. Talia hadn’t said anything about that. Nobody had said a word about Robin being MIA for over a year. A familiar sense of dread settled in Jason’s stomach. Did Batman know this time? Did Bruce change his mind, throw the new bird to the streets? That couldn’t be right. There was no known incident to tie Robin to, and the further Jason looked, the more frustrated he got. He was leaning back, halfway to grabbing his phone and calling up Ra’s Al Ghul himself, because he had to know, when Damian spoke up once more.

“There’s a report here that says a few weeks after Robin went missing, Joker was brought to custody by Batman and Batgirl.” Damian looked over, his expression unamused. “Wasn’t that the guy who butchered your face?” Jason glared back at him. Very funny.

“Yeah. He was. I don’t see why-” Jason paused. Batgirl. Barbara. Why would Bruce keep her and get rid of Robin? Why was the Joker a target only a few weeks after Robin went missing? Jason wanted to say it was a coincidence. He wanted to believe this had nothing to do with the new Robin vanishing. But he knew better. “Let me see that article.”

Damian scowled as Jason yanked the laptop from his hand, but said nothing more as Jason studied the article. It didn’t mention Robin, but it had a link to another article at the end with a name that immediately had Jason’s stomach dropping.

“Young son of Janet and Jack Drake held for ransom by the Joker and Harley Quinn.”

Tim Drake. It hadn’t been hard to find out the new Robin’s identity. Wealthy son of one of Bruce’s neighbors. Guess he got sick of picking kids off dirty streets. That information didn’t really tell Jason much, but he’d known the name. Which meant Jason was too late. He was a year too late, and the third Robin had already paid the price. Jason cursed, tabbing through the article. Timothy Jackson Drake, currently being “treated” in the new wing of Arkham for over a year. He turned sixteen there. This new wing was being funded by Bruce fucking Wayne. No interviews permitted. No guests permitted. What the fuck? What the fuck?

“Todd, what does this mean for the mission?” Jason nearly jumped out of his skin when Damian spoke up beside him. He swore, no matter how spatially aware he was, Damian always managed to sneak up on him. He also swore that the kid was inhuman, pulling that shit. Assassin training, whatever.

“It means we need to do more research.” He sighed, pinching his nose. All their information did not come close to making them prepared for this situation. Why was the kid still in Arkham? What did his parents know? Why were no guests permitted? Where was the Joker right now? Where was Harley Quinn? What happened?

Things only a few people would know. And lucky for him, they’d already recorded a damn good schedule to get around the Batman and speak to them.

“More research? These articles are useless though. We would need-”

“Somebody close to the target.” Jason looked back at Damian, grinning, though there was nothing but bitter annoyance behind his eyes. “You and I are going to go talk to my grandfather, Damian.”

“The butler?”

Jason sighed, eyes rolling. “Yes, Damian. The butler.”

Chapter Text

Ch.2
        
        “Easy, chicky. You’re gonna chafe ya wrists if you keep squirming like that!” Harley’s amused tone was nearly drowned out by Tim’s panic as he yanked at his arms, a sob breaking free from his lips as the straps holding him down didn’t budge. And what’s worse, her clearly mocking words were right. His wrists burned and ached as he tried to pry his arms free, to escape the looming promise of pain. The same pain he’d been forced through periodically for the past week.

“Listen to your mother, won’t ya champ?”  His voice rang clear in Tim’s mind, all his thoughts screaming danger, danger, danger.

“You’re not being a very good boy! We raised you better than this!” Tim shut his eyes, trying to calm himself down, to still his thundering heart. He had to be good. He had to be better. Whenever he couldn’t calm down, it always made it worse. That has been proven time and time again.

“I think we ought to teach you a lesson.” That man said, mock disappointment in his tone. Tim’s eyes snapped open again at that, finally looking at the man. The Joker. That sick fucking smile. Those crazed eyes, all too gleeful for the situation. Tim was quickly shaking his head, frantic, or trying to. It was hard when Harley had strapped his head down too. Evidently it was dangerous, but Tim didn’t see how a concussion could be worse than this. He would rather he just bit his damn tongue and bled out than another day of this. Another second, even.

“No, no I’ll be good- I’ll be-” Tim choked. How could he say that? Be good? For the Joker? Harley Quinn? He was Robin! He couldn’t be good for the Joker! He couldn’t betray Batman- Batman, who was a week late to finding him now. He should know. Harley told him how many days it was that Batman hadn’t rescued him when she woke him up every morning. Gritting his teeth, Tim squeezed his eyes shut, ignoring the way Joker tutted slowly. It would take more than some electric shocks and a few threats to break him.

“That’s no good! It looks like he’s still thinking about that Batman.” Joker shook his head. Walking up to the table, Joker took Tim’s chin, smiling down at him in a way that was rottenly sweet. “Open your eyes, son.” A beat of silence. Tim kept his eyes shut. The light pressure on his chin turned harsh, and Tim whimpered. “I said open your eyes!”

Tim obeyed this time, wide blue eyes meeting the Joker’s green ones, his heart dropping at the proximity. When he did, the Joker softened his expression in a way that reminded Tim of when his father would look at him after smacking him or scolding him for things. That same false comfort after Tim did something wrong. He preferred his father. He missed his father. He didn’t want to call the Joker father. He wanted Bruce. He wanted Alfred, or Dick or Babs, or anybody. Someone to finally save him. Just once, he wanted somebody to be here for him.

“You know it hurts me more than it hurts you right?” Joker cooed, Tim frowning in his face. No it didn’t. But talking back always made it worse. Everything made it worse. So he stayed silent. The Joker waited, longer than necessary, but eventually, he let go and stepped away. Sighing like a father with an unruly child who wouldn’t listen, that’s what he saw this as, Tim reminded himself, the Joker waved a hand in his direction.

“Kids these days, honey. They just don’t learn.” The clown shook his head.

“But they will!” Harley cheered, hoping to bring up the Joker’s mood. Gesturing at the device she was standing by, she stared back expectantly at him. She knew better than to do it without his go-ahead.

“You’re right! They will!” Joker snapped his fingers, as if having an epiphany. “Shock away, my dear! Give it a bit of a kick, this time. I think he’s getting a bit too used to the usual, and that just won’t do!” He tutted, tapping his foot.

Tim’s eyes widened considerably again, and his squirming renewed. He didn’t want this today- He couldn’t handle this today and he wanted his father and he wanted Batman to save him and-

Tim’s thoughts went white as the electric shock hit him, immediately halting all his thoughts. A seizure- Tim sitting there, having a seizure on the table. The intended effect, of course. His body convulsed, muscles spasming and jerking in the restraints. Even as Joker laughed, Harley could only look away. The choking and pained noises escaped Tim even after the shocks were over, leaving his body trying to recover. It was exactly forty-one seconds until his body finally stopped jerking, and he took in a shaking gasp of air. His temples burned, and his throat protested heavily as he gulped in air properly again. His muscles were aching, all the strain in the past few days had been a lot on them already. Even just once, his body was already beyond sore, and he hoped they wouldn’t go for round two. They only did this part every other day so far, Tim had noted as he blinked blurry eyes, his body melting in the restraints as he recovered. He knew this because he’d been keeping track when Harley updated the days. It was the first day- no, the second? The first… Maybe the second, but he decided it didn’t matter. They took days off. Something about the possibility of over doing it? Too much damage? Killing him? He couldn’t get his thoughts straight, and he was entirely in his own head until he processed the snapping fingers in front of his face. Squinting, he tried to focus more, until the Joker came into view.

Not entirely back in his head enough to fear the consequences, Tim groaned, shutting his eyes again. He showed no concern for the consequences this would lead to, just wanting to be out of these straps. He was sick of these forced seizures, sick of Joker and Harley’s voices, sick of it all. He ached and he was tired and-

“Still no respect!” Joker gaped in exaggerated shock at Tim’s response. “Harley, be a dear and give it another go! I thought I told you to really give it a kick?”

“But- But Sugar, I did!” She blinked, only displaying her confusion rather than her displeasure. Even now, she knows the rules about this kinda stuff. Tim was too small to risk going too high. The average human could die from even just 40 volts. Too high and she’d fry this birdy a little too well!

“Well clearly.. You didn’t!” He snapped, making her jump. “So be a dear and show our son some proper discipline, alright?” He nearly purred. Harley only nodded.

Tim was barely keeping up, looking between the two with a distant look, blue eyes drooping almost tiredly. He knew he should be scared, he should be fighting. Something. Anything. But his body felt sluggish, and he couldn't find it in him to say much in defense of himself. Even as he saw Harley changing something on the machine, guaranteed to be worse than the last time. He only whined and shut his eyes, bracing for the shock.

“Here it goes!” Harley cheered again, but her tone was strained, like she was bracing with him.

The shock hit him and Tim barely choked out a scream before his eyes were rolling, his jaw stuck open as his body jerked hard. He didn’t come to for nearly a minute this time, and when he did, Harley was in his face, checking his pulse with a frantic look in her eyes. He opened his mouth up, hoping to reassure his mother- mother? But Janet would never wear such makeup? Tim’s brow furrowed and he winced, his temples protesting the slight pull in skin, why was that? It didn’t matter because not-mother was speaking, and Tim couldn’t exactly make out the words yet. He strained to hear them now.

“-We lost ya there for a minute! Don’t scare your mother like that!” She scolded, though he made out some kind of concern in her eyes. Why? He was fine. He thinks. He doesn’t entirely remember. He reaches to push her away, but his hands don’t budge. Why won’t they budge? Looking down to see the straps, his eyes widened and his brain filled in the once fuzzy memories again. Of all the shocks in the past week, of the injections and the horrors and- Tim opened his mouth to say something, anything, and then shut it again. The lingering threat of a third shock, in the form of Joker watching him from behind Harley, was too much. But it still wasn’t enough, of course.

“You won’t even apologize to your mother?” Joker sighed. “Well, we can’t risk another scare like that today I suppose. So it’s papa’s turn!”

Walking over to a table that Tim couldn’t quite see, Joker whistled, and Tim frowned as he heard a few things shuffling around. Tim tried to look over his shoulder, squirming in place again, but eventually quieted down when Harley reached up to pet through his damp hair. When had he started sweating? Why was he letting her try to soothe him?

“This should do it!” Joker’s voice was overly delighted when he came back, a syringe in hand. Tim squinted at it. He’d been drugged more than once while here, but not yet injected with anything like that. It was a green, vile looking liquid, and Tim dreaded to know what was in it. His only solace was that it wouldn't kill him. Otherwise that would certainly give “mother” more than a scare.

“It took a lot of work to perfect this, you know! Killed a few people along the way, but what can you do when that was the original purpose?” He shrugged, walking up and steadying a hand on Tim’s arm, bringing the needle up and then sliding it in. Tim could hardly flinch, his body still lagging.

“But now it’s just right for its job!” Joker laughed, pushing in the green liquid. It burned in a way that made Tim squeeze his eyes shut again, jerking his arm and trying to get away as the liquid flooded his vein, sure to spread.

“I hear that some kids act up because they don’t feel well! Well, Papa Joker has *just* the prescription!” Joke took the needle out, tossing it carelessly aside. “Now, good boys take their medicine everyday! So you can expect this from now on after school!”

“What-” Tim wheezed softly, his lungs protesting the word he finally choked out. “What is.. What is it?” He finally managed, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“Oh, you know! Just some miracle working stuff! The key ingredient is my own special stuff, so I can’t tell ya! You’ll only get to learn the recipe when you’re ready to take over the family business, kiddo!” Joker laughed hysterically, patting Tim’s shoulder. Tim didn’t find it so funny.

Until he did, a little giggle escaping his lips, to his own confusion. And then another. And another, until he was trapped in a small fit of giggles, his eyes squeezed shut once more, why did he even open them anymore, as every giggle and snicker was a punch to his aching lungs. But it wouldn’t stop, no matter how much he tried to stop himself, no matter how much it hurt, he just kept laughing. Even as Harley got the go ahead to take him down, her arms around the back of him, holding her to his chest as his giggles turned into full wheezing laughter. Tears were dripping down his face, and despite knowing exactly who was hugging him, he clung onto her like a lifeline, sobbing out laugh after laugh.

Joker venom. It had to be. It was the only thing his pain and shock addled mind could think of. Joker injected him with Joker venom. He was going to keep doing it, every single day. Tim didn’t know any form of the venom that didn’t kill people, so he had no clue how this would affect him. Not for the first time, Tim desperately hoped Batman would come swooping in to save him soon, while sob-laughing into Harley’s arms. He couldn’t hear what she or Joker were saying, and only clung tighter until she began to lead him out of the room to where they kept him. He hardly remembered getting into bed, nor when the laughter had given way to just sobbing. All he knew was that it was nothing but blissful relief when he finally fell asleep, his dreams full of a bat-like caped crusader, who finally made it to him.


When Tim sat up, gasping, he looked around wildly, blue eyes bugged out as he tried to remember where he was. What day it was. Who he was. His hands went to his chest, gripping at the loose fabric of the hospital-approved sweater. He had fallen asleep in the corner again, and it ached in his knees as he pushed them out from where they were crunched up. It was a little funny, having such poor knees at fifteen- No. No, not fifteen. Sixteen. He was sixteen. How had he forgotten that? He snickered a bit, the sound making his skin jump, his eyes widening. He always hated when he did that without realizing. Especially after a dream, nightmare, like that. He didn’t like his own laughter anymore.

Squinting, he stared at his socked feet, trying to pick that dream apart. That had been Tim, for sure. He hadn’t had the carved smile yet. His skin wasn’t so pale. He was still disobedient with Mama and Papa. That wasn’t him. JJ always hated when he got those memories from Tim. It was bad enough having his own memories with Mama and Papa, let alone Tim’s too. He could keep those dreams entirely to himself.

Grimacing, JJ pushed himself up, stretching slowly, before looking up towards the door. He could see the clock in the hallway. It was past breakfast. Why hadn’t he been woken up? Stalking up to the door, the teenager peeked out of the barred window, looking around. His usual morning staff was nowhere to be seen. That was weird. He knew for a fact that Bruce paid good money to keep JJ watched like a hawk. So what did that mean?

Leaning back a bit, his hand holding onto the handle, JJ tried to consider the possibilities. One, he was still dreaming. If so, what a boring dream! Two, They were switching out guards differently. Less likely, since he knew for a fact they hadn’t changed that pattern once in the months and months he’d been here. Three, (and the most exciting one!) there was something happening in Arkham! It was rare that his wing was affected, so now he was even more excited. He sure hoped he wasn’t dreaming if that’s the case!

Before he could think much more on it, the intercom went off, making JJ wince at the scratchy voice coming through. Really, with Bruce Wayne’s funding, they couldn’t have less grating intercoms? At least in his room? Only, when JJ tried to focus on the words, he was starting to become convinced that he was dreaming. He couldn’t understand a word of it. It was muffled, or glitching? He didn’t know, but he really didn’t like it. Stepping away from the door, he glared up at the intercom silently, as if that could make it make more sense. Or shut it up.

Only, in the time he looked away, he completely missed the figure looking at him through that same barred window now. A tall male, wearing a helmet, that JJ would know nothing about really. That’s what happens when Arkham only gives you kid-approved magazines and puzzles.. And disney movies to consume. He was sixteen, not ten, thank you. Even if he did enjoy 101 dalmatians, you can only watch a movie so many times before it gets old. Turning, JJ only had a split second to actually notice the man, before the door was swinging open, leaving the teen to stare up at the masked figure, his brows furrowed in confusion despite the unwavering smile now planted on his lips. He’d not heard a word about a single vigilante, rogue or otherwise who looked like… this. Was he here to kidnap him? He certainly couldn’t be connected to Mama and Papa. Leather Jackets and helmets and other biker-gang styled fashion wasn’t really their thing. Or was it? He didn’t think so. And the guns wrote off anything Bat related. Yeah, no, JJ was drawing up blanks on this. Wrong room?

“Timothy Jackson Drake?” The voice modifier was as grating as the intercom in JJ’s ears, and his smile twitched in reaction.So, right room. Sort of.

“Sometimes.” Was JJ’s only response.