Chapter Text
Tim is creating little crescent shapes in the dirt with his foot as he twists it back and forth. He wants to stay in Bludhaven with Nightwing and Robin, but now that it’s morning, he has to get back to Gotham. For one, Tim Drake has school in a few hours, which Tim doesn’t mind missing, except for the fact that he promised to pick up Jason’s homework for him. He’s not sure if Jason will actually be back in Wayne Manor by tonight, or if Alfred is just going to receive it when Tim knocks on the door, but either way, Tim can’t miss this drop off. If the homework isn’t delivered by Tim, the Waynes, even in their concerned state for Jason’s health, will get suspicious of why Tim didn’t go to school and then Bruce will probably find some reason to shove into the house – he’ll probably ask to borrow a bag of flour or something equally as unhinged, and Bruce will notice Tim’s house is empty. Except for the mannequins.
Tim can’t screw this up. All he has to do is get back to school before the last bell.
He has a few options of people to call for a ride, but he settled on the most chaotic. Nightwing wasn’t happy at the idea of Constantine being the one to pick him up, but he’s the most fun option. Well, Superboy and Impulse would be more fun, but if they dropped Tim home, they’d know where he lives. Still, it would’ve been fun to get flown back by Superboy or flash-ran back by Impulse.
Tim keeps digging his toe in the dirt. Nightwing wasn’t a fan of Constantine knowing where one of his safehouses is (Tim was sworn to secrecy), so Tim’s driver is going to meet them at Bludhaven park.
Nightwing taps his foot, and his arms are crossed angrily across his chest. “I’m not exactly happy with Constantine being your driver.”
Tim looks up at Nightwing, his cat ear hood falling back. “Your biceps are huge.”
Nightwing laughs, “Flattery will get you nowhere little man.”
Right on cue, Constantine honks the horn. “Oi, laddie, good to see ya. Not so much for you, Nightwing. Ya look like something living on the bottom of a bog, mate.”
Constantine gets out of a sleek red Mazda hatchback and gives Nightwing a hug, clapping his back. “Sorry to hear about Robin. That’s a bloody shame.” He pulls a small amber unlabeled bottle from his pocket. “Give the lad three drops of this twice a day and he’ll be feeling as right as rain by tomorrow.”
“I’m… I’m not doing that,” Nightwing says slowly.
“Fair enough. Ya have it if ya need it. Anyway, we best be on our way. Come, lad, it’s a bit of a drive back to Jersey, innit?”
Tim gives Nightwing a hug, jumps into the passenger seat, and they’re off.
Once they’re a safe distance away from the park, Tim slumps in his seat. “What happened to your other car? It was cooler.”
“Don’t want to talk about it,” Constantine says with a pout. “This car’s gonna have to do, ya picky little bugger. Stole this one from a bloody parking garage. We’ll be back in Gotham before the owner even notices it’s missin’. I’d bet a pint on that.” His tone shifts. “Look, I’m sorry about your little Robin friend. Joker went way too far with that. The bloke’s not right in the head.”
Tim lets the car go into uncomfortable silence. He doesn’t really want to talk about the fight with Joker. Luckily, Constantine changes the subject.
“Nice new suit. The cat ears look adorable.”
Tim pulls down his hood and frowns, “Why do you get to drive?”
“Because I’m the bloody adult and you’re the wee toddler that I’m droppin’ off at preschool.”
“I need a favor before you drop me off at school.”
“No. This car makes one stop. I’m driving to school and school only. Understand?”
Tim ignores him. “My friend’s mom is buried in an unmarked grave. Can you use your powers to find her? We could do that and have more than enough time for me to get back to school before it ends. Please help me find her. You’re the only one that can do it.”
“You assume I’m the only one that can do it. And even if I could, I can’t keep fuckin’ around with the dead around a child. You’re too young to keep being exposed to all that.” Constantine lights a cigarette and takes a puff. He rolls down the window to blow the smoke outside.
“Please,” Tim begs, raising his voice over the loud sound of the wind rushing through the open window. “Jason can’t even visit his mom because the state just tossed her in a random spot because she was poor. It’s not fair. He should be able to visit his mom.”
Constantine bangs his hand on the steering wheel. “You’re gonna be the bloody death of me, you know that?” He takes another drag from his cigarette and mumbles around it. “Christ, I can’t believe I’m taking a child back to a cemetery.”
“Yay,” Tim cheers. “We’re going to find Jason’s mom.”
“Yeah, yeah. Look, I need something that belonged to the lad’s mum or something that belongs to him. It could be anything, but it has to be a personal belonging for me to link it to the dearly departed’s body. By the way, what was her name?”
“Her name was Catherine Todd. We can stop by my house. Jason let me borrow a ton of his books. You gotta drive faster so we’ll have enough time to stop at my house and then do the cemetery thing and make it to school. You’re driving too slow.”
“Shut up, you ungrateful speed demon. I’m going bloody ninety!”
As proof of that, police sirens start to go off behind the car.
Constantine swears as he eases his foot on the brake.
Tim takes a deep breath. This can go one of two ways.
Way 1:
Constantine leaps out of the car with two guns, one in each hand. He starts to shoot like a man possessed. “Yer never takin’ me and the kid alive. HA HA HA! I’m sending you bloody wankers to hell. You hear me? To HELL!!!”
Constantine’s entire body is covered in hellfire as he kills all the cops.
Way 2:
The car rolls to a stop and a police officer approaches. Tim doesn’t look up, but he can hear as the officer of the law’s footsteps stop outside of the driver’s side door.
A gruff voice grumbles, “License and registration.”
Constantine growls, “You don’t know who you’re messing with.”
A second officer sighs, “Sir, I’m gonna need you to step out of the car.”
Tim looks up just in time to see Constantine get out of the car and lift his hands, causing the police officers to levitate off the ground.
Constantine’s eyes glow red, and his voice is deeper than Batman’s. “One of these men is about to have his soul forcefully ripped out of his body through his nose. The other will be left horribly disfigured, but needs to be alive to send a warning never to mess with John Constantine, Master of the Dark Arts. I’ll let you choose which one Timmy.” His mouth curls into a snarl. His body is engulfed in hellfire, but his voice is as cold as ice, enunciating each word.
“Pick. Which. One. Dies.”
“Timmy lad?” Constantine shakes Tim back to reality. “Jesus, are you havin’ a stroke or something?”
Tim can hear the footsteps of a police officer approaching and begs, “Please don’t kill the cops. I can fix this. I have a plan.”
“Wha-? Why would I – “
“Sir, do you know how fast you were going?”
Constantine smiles. “Sorry officer. I might have been a wee bit heavy footed on the ol’ accelerator.”
“License and registration.”
Constantine hands over his license and winces. “Um, I might have misplaced my registration.”
Tim clutches his stomach and groans. “Uncle John, I don’t feel good. My stomach hurts so bad. I really really need to use the bathroom.” Tim adds a miserable sounding moan.
Constantine seems to understand the plan and asks, “Hold tight little Timmy. Can you make it to the next rest stop?”
“No,” Tim moans and starts to cry.
Constantine turns back to the police officer, who looks genuinely concerned. “Sorry officer. Can we make this fast? I need to help my boy.”
The police officer hands Constantine back his driver’s license and stammers, “It’s um, it’s alright.” Tim moans louder. “You’ve got your hands full here. Just try to slow down and have a nice day.”
The police officer hops back in the police cruiser and speeds away.
Constantine looks over at Tim. “Well, I’ll be. You’re quite the little hustler. You can even cry on command. Impressive.”
Tim wipes the tears away with his sleeve. “Impressive enough to let me drive?”
“Fuck no. The whole point is to try and not get arrested, you little goblin.”
-----
Tim grabs the stack of Sherlock Holmes books that Jason let him borrow from off his computer desk. He also took the opportunity that he was in his house to change into his school uniform so he could go right from the cemetery to school.
Constantine shouts from a room across the hall, “Why is there an old lady mannequin, sitting in a rocking chair, dressed in a housecoat?”
Tim jogs over to the room Constantine is in.
“That’s my mannequin decoy. You helped me carry in the other ones that first night we met, but this one is the OG.”
Tim removes Mrs. Mannequin Mac’s housecoat to reveal a cozy pink cardigan with a lovely floral print skirt. Tim moves the knitting needles from the table to her lap and picks up the pearl necklace from the table. He clasps the pearls around the neck of Mrs. Mac’s plastic body double.
“Timmy,” Constantine whistles. “I play around with the dead on the daily, but even I’m getting a bit of a chill from this one.”
“Cool! Is she haunted?” Tim asks with glee in his eyes.
Constantine pats him on the head and laughs, “You are too much, laddie.”
Tim frowns at the bottle of whiskey in Constantine’s hand.
“Is that my dad’s? You know what, don’t answer, just follow me. I need to keep an eye on you, Mr. Constantine.”
“Aww, no more Uncle John? I liked being called Uncle John.”
Tim rolls his eyes as he walks back into his room. Constantine sits on the bed, leaning against the headboard and continues to drink the stolen bottle of whiskey.
Tim reaches in his backpack and talks out loud, more to himself than to Constantine.
“Gotta transfer these pictures to the laptop and then we’ll be ready to go.”
Tim opens the laptop and quickly enters the Batmobile-related password.
The screen to the Batman blog he follows is open, and a few messages are on the screen.
< BatObsessed100 > Can you believe Joker busted out of Arkham??
< I_Rock_with_Robin28 > I saw Joker outside of the frozen yogurt place on 5th.
< BatmanBAE4eva > Clown sighting at Gotham Grocer!
< BatBro#1 >I saw him too!! He a ugly mofo
<Ad0ptMeBatman420 > Some dude with a sword and 1 eye just beat the shit out of Joker!! Cops are dragging his ass away.
Tim closes the screen and plugs the sim card from the binoculars into the side port of his laptop. A screen full of Joker pictures pop up on the screen, giving Tim the biggest jump scare of his life. His heart is pounding in his chest, but he has to transfer the pictures.
There’s a lot of blurry pictures from when he fell back and his finger was just twitching over the shutter button, but right before Tim fell back, there are some of the most chilling closeup shots that Tim has ever seen.
“Jesus, kid.” Constantine stands up from the bed and stands at Tim’s side. “You can see every bloody pore on his face. And look at his eyes. They look like they’re glowing.”
Tim can hear the sound of the crowbar whistling through the air before striking down on Jason. Over and over again.
Tim starts whimpering and Constantine reaches across the poor boy to close the picture gallery of the Joker. Constantine guides Tim by the hand to sit on the bed. He sits next to Tim and rubs his back. “You’re alright, laddie. Ya had a big day for someone so little.”
Tim leans against Constantine’s side and mumbles, “You smell like cigarettes and alcohol.”
Tim feels Constantine’s chest rumble when he laughs. Tim turns the lean into a hug.
Constantine ruffles Tim’s hair. “We should probably take a minute to breathe, laddie.” Tim tenses. “Don’t get all bristly, son, you’ve been through a lot. We got plenty of time to track down dead bodies. Let’s just sit here for a few minutes until you catch your breath, at least until I finish my bottle.” He holds up the half empty bottle of whiskey.
“Okay,” Tim whispers, “but I have one more favor to ask. Before we go to the cemetery can we stop at the autobody shop? I want to check on my friend Em to see if he’s okay.”
“Sure, but he better not be a weird cryptid kid like you. I can barely deal with one Timmy Drake.”