Chapter Text
“I’ve been preparing an extra special formula just for them.” The words fell out of the Joker’s mouth like the punchline to a joke with no setup, the expectant pause that followed meant for laughter that wouldn’t come.
Tim kept the rest of his body as still as he could while shifting his weight to his back foot. The open stage door was right behind him. He had no idea what was in there—nothing good, he was sure—but it was still guaranteed to be better than the Joker himself. If they could just get through the door and run… It wasn’t that far to go from backstage, through the audience, and out into the main hallway. They’d at least have a chance.
He brushed his hand against Steph’s, trying to signal her without alerting the Joker or Harley.
What was Harley even doing here? Wasn’t she on the outs with the Joker right now? Last he’d heard, she was running around with Poison Ivy. The whole thing felt wrong. Even her hair seemed off. The coloring felt too even, too well-done, instead of haphazardly dyed by someone more interested in drama than style.
“It’s not quite as finalized as I wanted it to be,” the Joker said, flicking the tip of his oversized needle. Tim hoped he accidentally stabbed himself in the finger. “Unfortunately, a couple of birds mucked up my experiments and I had to accelerate my plans. I can’t say I’m too disappointed though. The early stages are when the most fun surprise results happen.” His grin looked as unnatural as the ones on any of his victims. Tim grasped Steph’s hand and squeezed. He thought he saw the minute lowering of her head, a subtle nod.
“What’s your plan?” Tim asked, more to distract him than to actually get an answer. The Joker always had the same plan. Cause as much chaos and pain as possible.
“You mean besides turning you into a couple of cuckoo birds? Isn’t it obvious?” the Joker asked. “There are oh so many wonderfully valuable children here, just waiting to be shook open for change.”
Ransom? Tim hesitated, his hand around Steph’s stilling. That didn’t really seem like the Joker’s MO, but Tim guessed he would try anything once.
The colors at the end of the hallway shifted, but Tim kept his eyes on the Joker. He was just mocking them right now, but Tim knew how quickly any of his cutting remarks could veer towards deadly.
The Joker’s gaze drifted off of them, for just a moment, and Tim yanked Steph backwards towards the door. He expected her to follow—she’d clearly been ready to follow a second earlier—but instead her posture went rigid. Tim registered the sound of quick, heavy breathing just before Steph whispered, “Jay?”
His eyes snapped to the hallway’s mouth at the same time the Joker’s did. He saw a red hood first, then a scarf covering most of a face, then finally crutches clattering to the ground as the figure collapsed to its knees.
“What’s this?” the Joker asked. “Another wannabe hero?”
The Joker’s face flickered in and out, the broken laughter rising in pitch as he raised a crowbar Tim had no power to stop above his head. Tim couldn’t do anything because he was thousands of miles away and he was useless and—
No. This wasn’t the library, he wasn’t miles away, and he wasn’t useless. Not this time.
He released Steph’s hand with a push. “Get him,” he hissed. “Get him and get out of here.”
“What?” Steph asked, looking over her shoulder at him with wide eyes.
Tim stepped back and wrenched the broom out from where it had been wedged between the stage door and its frame. The door swung shut, probably locking them out of their only possible escape, but that wasn’t an option anymore. It hadn’t been since Jason stepped into the hallway.
Tim was never going to watch helplessly ever again.
“Go!” he hissed, and then he ran past her at the Joker, swinging the closest approximation to a weapon he had.
“What?” Steph repeated, but Tim was already running at the Joker. At the Joker. What was he thinking?
Her instinct was to chase after him, to pull him back and convince him not to be an idiot, but that wouldn’t help anyone. It wouldn’t help Jason, who was hyperventilating in the doorway; it wouldn’t help her; and it probably wouldn’t even help Tim. She’d just distract him and put all three of them in more danger.
It took too many seconds for her stuttering thoughts to drive her towards Jason. She expected some kind of resistance, but the Joker and Harley actually seemed caught off guard by Tim’s attack. She guessed not many people had the balls to take them head on.
She skidded to the floor beside where Jason had fallen. He was on his hands and knees, staring straight down, breathing too quickly to get any oxygen. She barely stopped herself from saying ‘Jason,’ her throat contracting around the word. The Joker was right there, distracted or not. “Robin,” she hissed instead. “Robin, can you hear me?”
She touched his shoulder and he yanked back, staring up at her with wide, unfocused eyes. He suddenly flinched, even though she hadn’t moved or spoken at all. She looked over her shoulder in case Harley was about to hit her with a mallet or something, but both of the clowns were paying far more attention to Tim than to them.
She turned back to Jason with slow, deliberate movements. Was this a panic attack? Flashback? He was Robin. The real, actual, not-quite-original Robin. He was supposed to be able to handle this stuff.
‘The Joker, you know?’ Tim had said in the library, looking devastated even as he tried to tell her everyone was okay. She still didn’t know what had actually happened to Jason, but she could make an educated guess.
She shifted sideways so her body was between Jason and the Joker while she ran through all the things her mom had told her about how to help someone having a panic attack. Make them focus on the here and now. Touch, smell, sight.
“It’s okay, Robin,” she said as reassuringly as she could. “Focus on me—” She almost said Steph, but stopped at the last moment. “—second Robin. Third Robin? Fourth Robin? That one, I think. I’m pretty sure you’re second Robin.”
It didn’t seem to be helping for some reason. She changed tracks. “ Do you feel the floor? It’s, uh, wood, and, uh, splintery?” She felt the floor herself and it was actually annoyingly smooth. “You know what, we don’t have time for this.” She pulled him up, best practices be damned. She doubted the sounds of fighting or the sight of the Joker and Harley was going to be conducive to him calming down regardless, and they really needed to get out of there before any of that evil clown energy turned on them.
Jason struggled against her grip as she tried to drag him out into the hallway. His elbow slammed into her chin and a purse she hadn’t noticed hanging from his arm followed up with a solid whump against her shoulder. Why the heck did he have a purse filled with what felt like jagged metal? Was this the new cool kid weapon? All the popular Robins were using brooms and DIY purse flails, apparently.
“Cut it out,” she hissed, as the purse came dangerously close to her face. She took a random turn, trying to escape the sounds of thumps and laughter behind her, and almost tripped when Jason managed to hook one of his legs under hers. “I’m trying to help you, you idiot!”
They weren’t nearly far enough away, but she was also scared to go too far. Tim would be coming soon, and if he didn’t, then she was damn well going back for him. She scanned the hallway for any kind of hideyhole and her eyes stopped on the school darkroom. There. A couple of classes used it occasionally, but mostly it sat empty until after school.
She slammed harder than she meant to into the door when Jason’s fist connected with her temple. “Jesus F’ing Cracker, Jay!” she yelped as they stumbled into the room. She dropped him unceremoniously to the floor and barely resisted slamming the door behind her. Instead, she closed it as quietly as she could and hoped that made up for practically yelling a few seconds earlier.
She leaned heavily against the door, ear pressed against the metal. Ostensibly she was listening for anyone who might have followed them. Realistically, she was trying to catch her breath. She breathed in deeply and wrinkled her nose at the stench of the fumes clinging to the room.
“Smell that, Jay?” she asked, voice hoarse. “Bet wherever you think you are didn’t smell like this.”
Jason’s fingernails scraped across the floor, and his head slowly turned towards her. It took her several seconds in the dark to realize his eyes were actually focusing on her instead of something past her.
“Steph?” he asked.
Tim’s first hit had definitely taken the Joker off guard, pushing him back further into the kitchen instead of the hallway Steph was running down behind him. Unfortunately, Tim hadn’t actually hit him very hard. He’d trained a bit with a staff, but the broom was terribly off balance with a long, flat head that slowed his swings.
He didn’t give himself time to think about how little training he had or how much better he’d do with a weapon that was actually a weapon instead of a cleaning implement and swung again. He kind of expected Harley to pull her ridiculous mallet out of nowhere and block him, but instead she said, “Ooh, this is good,” and held up a phone.
Was she… recording him? Was it streaming? God, he hoped it wasn’t streaming. They’d had to deal with enough identity concerns with Robin disappearing at the same time as Jason’s coma. They did not need everyone wondering where Robin had gotten a Gotham Academy uniform.
He swung the broom at her next, barely grazing the phone with the broom’s bristles. He desperately needed better balance. At least it was enough to send the phone clattering to the floor. Harley put her hands on her hips, her posture the twisted parody of a disappointed teacher. “Well, that was rude.”
He could hear Steph talking to Jason behind him, so he didn’t wait before swinging again, this time towards the syringe the Joker was still holding. He missed, the broom head too low, and the Joker cackled.
“Aim a bit off, little Tweety? Still recovering from my last beating?”
Tim saw red, but instead of swinging wildly again, he slammed the broom head to the floor and stomped on it as he spun the handle to unscrew it. The second it came loose, he swung again, this time hitting the Joker’s hand square on. He kept his grip on the syringe, but his wide grin morphed into a snarl.
“As I recall, this fight didn’t go well for you last time.”
“Which time was that?” Tim asked. “The time when I escaped your attempts to kill me or the time before that when I escaped your attempts to kill me?”
“You are very good at running away, aren’t you?” the Joker drawled. Which… was a weird thing to say. Jason hadn’t exactly run away from their last fight. “Maybe I should clip your wings.”
The Joker lunged forward, stretching the syringe towards him, and Tim stumbled backwards. He swung the broom handle, this time making contact with the syringe and sending it flying. Yes! He held his breath in gleeful anticipation as it arced through the air, but then it hit the ground with a tinkle and skittered a little further into the kitchen, still in one piece. Why couldn’t medical equipment be a bit more crap?
“I’ve got it!” Harley said, diving after where it had landed. Tim risked a glance towards the main hallway. No Steph or Jason. He had no idea how far they’d gone. Was it enough? It was going to have to be.
He jabbed the sharper end of the broom handle towards the Joker’s stomach, wishing it were more of a spear. The Joker jumped backwards, easily avoiding the hit, but Tim didn’t wait for his crack about how broken the Joker had left him. Instead he turned and ran.
Jason’s crutches were still on the ground near the doorway, so Tim leaned down to grab them as he ran past. His brain hadn’t fully settled on why—whether it was because Jason would need them or because Tim didn’t want to there to be any identifying evidence for the Joker to pick up—but he was absolutely certain he shouldn’t leave them behind.
“That’s right. Fly away, little birdy!” the Joker yelled after him. “It’s the only thing you’re good at, after all.”
The sound of laughter faded behind him as he ran.
What. The. Hell.
“Oh, hey, there you are,” Steph said, because that was definitely Steph. That was one hundred percent Steph. Except she was wearing a vigilante mask and… was that the Robin symbol? What the hell?!
And, hadn’t they just… he swore he saw the Joker, but now they were... He pushed himself up and looked around the room, trying to orient himself. The room was dark other than a dim red light. He dug the flashlight the nurse had given him out of his pocket and flicked it on. They were surrounded by plastic tubs on counters, pictures strung up on strings, and containers of chemicals he didn’t know the names of. Had he imagined seeing the Joker? He didn’t think he’d imagine something like that, but he also didn’t remember anything about how he’d gotten into what was apparently the school’s darkroom, so clearly his mind wasn’t as great as he’d thought.
“Jason?”
“Why are we here?” Jason asked carefully. The flashlight beam shook as his arm trembled. It wasn’t even that large of a flashlight, but his arm strained with the weight. “How did we get here? Why are you wearing that?”
Steph pushed away from the door. “That is a lot of questions with a lot of answer, and we don’t really have a lot of time to just hang out and chat.” She cracked the door open an inch and peeked out before closing it again. “The Joker is here, the school is in lockdown, Tim gave me some Robin gear to protect myself after he got bit by a zombie clown, we ran into the Joker, you showed up and had some kind of mental breakdown, and Tim told me to get you away while he fought the Joker.”
“Tim is fighting the Joker?” Jason asked, trying to push himself to his feet and slipping back down when his legs failed to support him. Where were his crutches? He scanned the darkroom again, but didn’t see them. Fucking great. “We need to go help him.” What the hell was Tim thinking? He’d been Robin for all of ten minutes. Did he really think he was so much better than Jason that he could face the Joker all by himself when Jason had nearly been killed by the asshole just a few months earlier?
“Oh, ho, no,” Steph said. She quietly peeked out the door and closed it again. “I might go try to rescue Tim if the idiot doesn’t get here soon, but you took one look at the Joker and collapsed, so there is no freakin’ way I’m letting you go anywhere near him.”
Jason was about ready to start throwing canisters of chemicals on the ground out of sheer frustration, but with his luck, and Gotham being the way it was, that would just turn him into a photography-themed villain.
“I am not letting you go fight the Joker!” There were actual fucking tears in his eyes. He refused to acknowledge them enough to wipe them away. With any luck it was too dark for Steph to notice.
“I’m not planning on fighting the Joker either,” Steph said. “Tim probably isn’t even fighting the Joker anymore. He was just distracting him long enough for us to get away.”
She opened the door to peek out again. He waited until it was closed to hiss, “Why do you keep doing that? Someone’s going to see us.”
“I’m looking for Tim,” she said. “We didn’t exactly make a plan of where to meet up. For all we know he’s long since escaped the Joker but we just can’t tell.”
Jason pulled on his hair hard enough that he could feel a few strands breaking lose. Why was this happening? Did Bruce know that Steph was running around in Robin gear? Did Tim just hand out Robin stuff to anyone willy nilly? Did he, what, just immediately tell Steph he was Robin the moment he put on the costume? It wasn’t fair. Jason had had to keep this secret from his best friend for over a year, and Tim just gave it all away in two seconds? And immediately put her in danger? What was wrong with him?
And he couldn’t even be that angry at Tim right now because he was too damn worried about the idiot!
His traitorous heart missed Chirp. Chirp would be able to see where Tim was. Chirp would be able to tell them if he was okay, if he’d gotten away from the Joker, where to find him. Sure, all their tech was down right now, but Chirp would probably be able to fix that.
But he knew damn well not to count on Chirp anymore. Jason had called for him when he was dying, after Chirp had promised he’d be there for him if he was in trouble, and he hadn’t gotten a single response.
“I’m going after him,” he said, keeping his voice as steady as he could manage. “I don’t care whether or not you think it’s safe.”
“Jason,” Steph said, frustration leaking into her voice.
“Robin,” he corrected stiffly.
“Second Robin,” she amended with rolled eyes. He bristled. Second? Because Tim was First Robin? Tim had no freakin’ right to the title at all, let alone the number one. “Tim only attacked the Joker so I could get you away safely. You going back out there completely ruins the point!”
“I’m not going to let him die for me!” Jason yelled, his frustration exploding outward.
“Neither am I!” Steph yelled back.
A small, hesitant knock interrupted them and both of their heads snapped to the door. Steph very slowly reached out and creaked the door open while Jason groped the counter behind him for a weapon. The best he could find was an old fashioned camera.
The door opened to Tim standing there like an uncomfortable door-to-door salesman who’d accidentally interrupted a murder. Jason’s crutches and what looked like a long, wooden pole were under one arm. “You guys are kind of being really loud,” he said.
“Tim!” Steph exclaimed, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him into the room. Tim kicked the door shut behind him once he was in. “How’d you get away?”
“I just ran as soon as you guys were gone,” he said, face looking bright red in the dim light. “I don’t think they even tried to chase me. It was kind of weird.”
That was weird. It wasn’t like the Joker to let anyone dressed as Robin go so easily. Robins were his favorite cannon fodder. “He must have something big planned,” Jason muttered. It was the only explanation.
“Yeah,” Tim agreed, his brow creased in thought, and Jason’s anger flared. Like Tim knew anything. Like he could act like he was some kind of expert when he became Robin yesterday.
“What do you know?” he spat out. He hadn’t actually meant to say anything. He’d meant to let it go so they could focus on more important things like the villain holding the school hostage, but apparently his mind and mouth had different ideas.
Tim crossed his arms, hunching defensively. “I have a decent understanding of how the Joker works.”
“You think you know better than me?” Jason asked. He was shaking, and he wasn’t sure if it was anger or exhaustion. His body wasn’t used to all this strain, and that just made him more angry. He’d lost months of his life to the Joker’s madness, and here Tim was acting like his little stint as an understudy made him all knowing.
“I didn’t say that,” Tim ground out. “I’m sure you also know a lot about the Joker.”
Jason might actually punch him. His hand curled into a fist at his side.
“Hey, hey,” Steph said, inserting herself between them. He’d almost forgotten she was there. “What are we fighting about? Shouldn’t we be, I don’t know, trying to stop the Joker or something?”
Jason let his fist relax and took a step away from Tim, looking further into the darkened room. “Did you two actually have a plan or were you just running around in costume like idiots looking to be murdered?”
“We were trying to get out of the building to call Batman, but the doors are locked,” Tim said tightly. “We put on the body armor because a rabid clown bit me.”
“Zombie clown,” Steph… corrected? Confirmed? They must have run into another victim like CJ. CJ hadn’t exactly tried to bite him, but Jason honestly wouldn’t have been surprised if he had.
“What are you wearing?” Tim asked.
“Unlike some people,” Jason spat, “I didn’t break protocol and bring equipment to school.”
Tim had the grace to at least look abashed, turning his reddened face away from Jason.
“I made a makeshift costume from some stuff I found in the office,” he finished.
“Oh!” Steph said, perking up suddenly. “You’re the one who stopped the broadcast.”
Something clicked in Jason’s mind at the same time. “And you’re the ones who bled all over Hallway D.”
“Yep!” Steph agreed, way too cheerfully.
“What the hell, even?” Jason asked, motioning to Steph but looking at Tim. “You put on the costume for a few days and immediately give away all our secrets? It wasn’t your business to tell her my identity.”
“I didn’t,” Tim said stiffly, arms tightly crossed over his chest.
“He didn’t,” Steph agreed, looking at Jason. “You did.”
Jason’s thoughts stuttered to a stop. What? But…
“A few minutes ago,” Steph clarified. “I mean, I already suspected ‘cause of the whole you-getting-injured-at-the-same-time-as-Robin-disappearing thing, plus some rumors that were going around, and I started to put together some other pieces like how maybe you weren’t actually kidnapped when we first met, but Tim refused to tell me anything. Even though I asked. A lot.”
Jason lowered his face into his hands, remembering how he corrected her with ‘Robin’ a few minutes earlier. He was an idiot. He just assumed she knew. She was wearing half a Robin costume, for Christ’s sake. “But,” he stuttered, trying to regain his dignity, “he did tell you about him.”
“Tim didn’t tell me nothin’,” Steph said. “I caught him in the act.”
“Twice,” Tim muttered.
“Yeah, he’s, like, really bad at keeping his identity secret.”
“Only from you!” Tim exclaimed. “Nobody else ever figured me out.”
Jason felt a rush of vicious vindication. He’d kept his identity secret for over a year, and Tim couldn’t even manage a couple of months. He was way better at being Robin than Tim. Not that he’d actually thought Tim could easily replace him, but… Still.
“Okay, fine,” he said. “Steph’s right. We need to get moving.”
“Do you have a way out?” Tim asked.
“I have something better,” Jason replied, swinging the purse around from his back so that it faced them and unzipping it. “A broken radio.” Which didn’t actually sound that much better when he said it out loud, but he soldiered on. “We just need to find some equipment to fix it.”
Tim was already stepping forward and inspecting the cracked metal before he finished speaking.
“Can you fix it?” Steph asked. Jason was annoyed to see she was asking Tim, not him. He could fix a radio. Why would she think Tim was better at fixing radios than him?
“Yes,” Tim said, with a certainty that Jason found just as annoying. “It’s a Cobra 29 LTD. These things are extremely durable. It probably looks worse than it is.” Okay, so maybe Tim knew a few things about CB radios. That still didn’t mean he’d be better at fixing them than Jason. Jason had thought basically the same thing, just without the model name.
“I was trying to get to the metal shop, but I guess that’s out,” Jason muttered. Even if the Joker had moved, it would be suicidal to attempt going down that hallway again. He was pretty sure the whole thing was a dead end. Emphasis on the dead.
“Computer lab?” Tim suggested. “We’re more likely to need wiring than table saws anyway.”
Jason scowled at him and Tim frowned back, but Steph just clapped her hands and cheerfully said “Great!” like the room wasn’t full of aggression. “Computer lab it is. Assuming you can both stop being dumb for a few minutes.”
The staredown continued a couple more seconds, but Tim broke first. “I’m not the one upset about nothing,” he muttered as he turned away, leaving Jason’s crutches propped up against a table.
Jason’s hand curled into a fist again, but he forced it to relax. “Let’s just get this done so we can radio for help.” He could see Steph’s concerned glance, but he ignored it. The sooner they could contact Batman, the sooner he could stop working with Tim.