Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tim sat quietly as he watched the TV, he wasn't paying any real attention to it, though m. His mind instead raced with thoughts. Too many

His school was demanding to see his parents, saying that they would need to call someone otherwise, and he didn't want to cause more trouble for his parents, so he needed to figure something out. 

The food was running low, and he didn't know how to cook. Mrs Mac wasn't due for another four days and he wasn't quite sure when the previous lot of food had been eaten. He didn't even rember eating most of it. One day it was there, then the next it wasn't. 

That led to another concern he had. His memory. He had been having a lot of trouble with it, and he was often confused. The other day, he had been doing homework, and the next moment, he was on top of the kitchen counter. Honestly, he was rather distressed, but he daren't tell his mother all of this. She call him crazy. Cart him away to Akham Asylum. That's where dad said the crazies belonged.

Tim would figure this out on his own. He always did.

Janet knew her roles, she knew what she needed to do. They needed to survive, and she made sure they would.

She felt the hunger rumbling in their stomach, making her feel sick.
Without delay, she stumbled around the kitchen in the body of a small, seven year old, black-haired boy. Finally, her hands grabbed onto the item she was trying to find - a stall. She dragged it over to the large opened silver fridge and grabbed some eggs.

Timmy had tried to find something to eat, hence the open fridge, but the boy wasn't very good at that stuff (why would a five year old in the lap of luxury need to be?). A pile of raw potatoes was on the floor, and one had a chunk bitten out of it. She could still feel the gritty, slimey, crunchy texture and the soapy cardboard taste still lingering in her mouth. Potatoes were odd.

Once she had secured two eggs and an orange juice box, she wobbled down of the stall and placed them on the floor, then moved to a cupboard across the kitchen.

She had often seen Janet... the real Janet makes scrambled eggs. It was typically when she was in a bad mood and took pain pills when she made this.

She roked out a small sauce pan, then wandered back to the eggs and cracked them into it. She whined in frustration when bits of eggshell got in it but couldn't fish it out. She continued, resigning herself to crunchy eggs.

She mixed the mixture together with a spoon, then left it in the pan as she picked up the pan itself in one hand and dragged to stall over to the hobb. She then clambered up and placed the pan down. Next, she started up the gas and created a spark to start the hobb. She flinched as it caught fire but felt proud at starting it.

She hummed a tune she'd heard real-Janet sing when cooking and gently stired the cooking eggs.

Tomorrow, Mrs Mac would be dropping off a few real meals, which made her exited. She knew she wouldn't be the one eating them, but it at least meant they wouldn't be hungry. The only issue was that boys didn't space out the food well. They just ate till they were full. Hopefully, Tim will be in control when they eat, he was slightly better at it. Athena had it in control, though. She had to. Otherwise, Janet would have fronted sooner.

Finally, the eggs were done, so she turned the hob off and brung the pan with her to the table, then grabbed a fork and tomato ketchup and the juice that was still on the floor. The eggs were dry and crunchy, but tomato sauce always made things better.

Timmy was alone. He was scared and sad. It was all dark and cold, and mummy was nowhere to be seen.

Mummy had told him to be a big boy, though, so he tried his best not to cry. He always tried, though, and always failed.

Why did mummy and daddy hate him? 

He hugged his pillow tightly and sobbed.

Athena felt her heart wrench as she pulled forward an Unnamed Alter. 

Mother had passed him off to a middle-aged man. Tim had been highly confused and became panic as lips pressed against his.

Tim would forget this. He had every other time. He'd break if he didn't.

She couldn't understand why her mum let this happen to them or why the "customers" enjoyed it. It hurt them so much.

He had been so young when it had started. At least it didn't happen too often, but mother said it was because they were too young for many of them. That sentence alone had them fearing for their future. Was this life, if so, she wasn't even sure if like was worth it.

It felt rough lips brush against its own. It was confused and tried to move away only for a rough hand to grab hard enough for it to bruise.

It couldn't help but cry as the lips continued to assult it and scream as the assult progress. The man hurting it seemed to revel in its misery.

It should be used to this by now, afterall it remembered this happening before, even if it was hazy. It was all it remeberedm

Tim awoke feeling groggy and sore. He didn't know why. He hadn't any reason to be. It was particularly painful on his bottom but couldn't recall falling on it, but that wasn't saying much with his memory issues.

He pushed himself out of bed and got dressed. He snuggled into his favourite jumper and settled into a seat and began to read a book.

The book was called Harry Potter, and the main character was somewhat relatable. He was disliked and alone. He hoped he would also find a loving family.

Timmy was really happy! Mommy was tucking him into bed. She was even praising him. He wasn't sure why, though, he'd even cried earlier.

He snuggled against her and smelt her perfume. It was sweet comforting and safe. Maybe mummy did love him.

"Night night mummy." He said in a sleepy, happy voice.

Chapter Text

Timothy observed the Gala noting attendees. He knew who to avoid, who to charm, who had drama and what it was. He knew his parents' opinions on them, and most importantly, he knew how to manipulate them.

Mother was a wonderful teacher. 'Gala Speak' became a second language, and etiquette came naturally to him now. His mother was pleased by his progress with these life skills and his father seemed to be as well. 

He followed his mother around the room and flashed his smiles and spoke sweetly. Mother's perfect little hier. 

He didn't particularly enjoy Galas, but he didn't hate them either, which was weird. He always seemed to dread the Galas, but as soon as he got ready, he felt calmer and knew just what to do. Sometimes he felt like there were two of them. But that was ridiculous.

Timmy couldn't help but jump around and flap his his arms. Mummy and Daddy were home. He was so happy.

His joy blinded him from his father's scowl and mother's sigh. Athena saw it all, though. She could get Tim to front, but she never interfered unless it was an emergency, and besides, Timmy seemed happy. 

Their parents knew something was 'wrong' with Tim but didn't know or care what it was. Sometimes it was a nuesence but he always behaved in public.

"Quiet hands, Tim." His mother requested.

Timmy behaved, his joy slipped a little but was still glad to see his parents.

Athena was definitely glad that Janet would always treat Timmy kindly, even if she wasn't to the others.

She believed the others were called Alters from Tim's research. Unfortunately, Tim had pushed away the memories of research, unable to comprehend having DID. To acknowledge that would be to acknowledge the abuse they suffer. Did it count as abuse? She knew it did but she still found herself doubting.

Athena had remembered, though, and she was certain that this was the right label.

Timmy clung onto his mother's leg and soaked up all the attention he could. He was a sweet kid, always so loving, caring, and open. Athena had a soft spot for Timmy, and it made her so sad whenever Timmy was upset.

She wished she could keep Tim safe and bundled up underneath her wing in the headspace. She'd never let anyone harm him. 

But alas, she couldn't do that.

Hypnos yawned widely and snuggled into his soft, warm bed. He felt calm and happy today, which always made sleeping easier. He wasn't sure when he would wake up, but he was always happy to fall back asleep.

He always got upset and stressed when something prevented him. He wished he could always sleep, dreams where always nice and floaty, the real world was harsh.

It knew what its place was now. It leaned into the kisses aswell as often initiating them. It knew how to move in pleasing ways and make the right sound. It knew not to speak, just to moan and scream, cry, and when whimper and whine. 

The men could be nice as well when it behaved right. If it sucked right or acted enthusiastic, it might get soft kissed or hair ruffles. 

It hated the people who hurt it, though, but it was used to it now.

This was its place.

Robin was confused as to the way he was in charge of the body until he realised that a gun was pointed at him.

Who the hell attempts to mug a kid?

He took a few seconds until he remembered how he got into this situation. Tim had been out doing his photography. It was stupidly dangerous but made him happy so he wouldn't stop him. Unfortunately, tonight, a low life thug had seen him and, most likely, in need of money, money that could be gained from pawning of his pricey camara.

Now Robin had to get out of this situation. 

He took a deep breath, walked over, camera in hand, then, when close enough, slammed the gun out of the man's shaking hand and fled.

He ran until he felt like he could breathe and was relieved to see he was no longer being followed.

it was stupid, dangerous, and reckless, but the camera was not only Tim's prised possession but had close-up photos of Batman and Robin. If the wrong person got thier hands on these photos, their identities may be compramised.

He sank to the the ground and took deep breaths, and rested.

Tim was going to be so confused once he took control again.

Janet was a good cook now. She even enjoyed it (no, she didn't). It was relaxing and peaceful, thats what she was told. She also could care for the others, allowing herself to feel good and content.

Cleaning was not fun, but it wasn't horrible. If the house stayed clean, the body wouldn't get hurt needlessly. 

But she hated fronting after having seen to a 'client'. The body was always sticky and sore and often bloody. She wasn't quite sure what it was that the people did, but they enjoyed it and her parents always seemed happy with their performance. It would be selfish to get someone to make it stop. Besides, if she hurt to much, she was taken to the doctors.

Chapter Text

Timothy was currently making a public appearance with his parents on a woman's shelter opening. He knew just how important this event was for his parents. His best behaviour was absolutely nessasary, and Timothy refused to let his parents down even if he was tired and soar.

His parents were great, and he loved them dearly, but they were harsh when it came to punishment. He darn't see what the consequences of tarnishing thier reputation would be.

So here he was, pleasant smile on his face, excellent posture, and a silver tongue.

Hopefully, his parents would be proud.

Hynos found himself sitting in the living room with a wierd looking machine in his hand. A camera, maybe? It's one of those weird old ones.

His eyes were sore, and his body felt heavy. He wasn't sure how he got here, but he knew where he was going.

Bed.

John Watson knew he wasn't actually John Watson, but yet he still was. At times, it was confusing and distressing, but most days, it wasn't something he thought about.

He knew that the body had many personalities, some to protect the body, and others just existed. He was here to help the body with first aid. At least, that's when Athena would get him to front.

Tim was honestly stupidly reckless. Children should not be jumping across rooftops stalking vigilantes. But was that why he existed? Would he exist if it weren't from the injuries this reckless behaviour caused? He liked to think so, but he was still worried about it.

His main purpose may be First Aid, but he0 still has a life outside of that. He loved reading, was fascinated by true crime, and so much more. Janet was his best friend and loved spending time in the headspace with her.

He often co-hosted with her to. Sometimes, just because and sometimes....well, he didn't like to think of that, even less, what it must have experienced.

He felt real. He felt whole. He wanted to exist, but he didn't know if everyone felt that way. If Timoth Jackson Drake had been less traumatised, he might not even exist. 

Robin grits his teeth as his father's belt lands on his back. Apparently, he was now old enough to take such punishments. Tim and Timothy just used to experience just spanking and slaps. But then he hit the double didgets.... well, Rob fronted during punishments now. At least Tim and Timothy thought they were well-behaved (more or less). Robin knew better.

Robin was good at taking the punishments, but it seemed unfair. He wasn't the one to misbehave. He knew that his parents' punishments were harsh, would even count as abuse, and he knew the others couldn't handle it as well, but it still felt unfair.

The only positive was the days his mum was feeling merciful. She would tend to his wounds and hug him as he had hot coco. Soft words were accompanied by her disappointment, but that was fine. He loved his mum and wouldn't give this time up for the world.

He loved his dad as well, but enjoyable times with him were even less than those with his mum. Still, he lived for moments when his dad gave him a proud smile or practiced soccer with him. He wasn't a fan of sports but loved those hours he spent with him.

Timmy sobbed, he felt as though he couldn't breathe, and the tears stung his eyes. His back burned in pain, and his stomach seemed to be eating itself alive. He wasn't sure why this was happening, and all he wanted was his mummy.

Why was he always alone? Did mummy hate him? What was so bad about him?

Tim tried to focus on photographing his heroes, but how could when he kept getting mystery injuries. They weren't mild either. Right now, on his back were wounds that were striped. It looked like belt marks, but that made no sense whatsoever. Had he fallen asleep in something weird?

Then there was the other day he woke up to find his bottom bleeding. His bottom often hurt, but he'd never woken up with that much blood. The Internet said it was a period, but only women had that, and he wasn't one. He'd asked Mum over the phone, and she'd gone quiet. His mum had booked a flight home and took him to the doctors.  He doesn't remember what happened then. But he had a feeling he didn't want to.

It lent into the kiss and roamed its hands down to the man's cock and began touching it. The man moaned into his mouth and he pulled it onto the bed.

It continued to reciprocate and play along. It hated it but it knew no different. Sometimes... sometimes it enjoyed it if it played along. It felt ashamed by it, but it made it more bearable.

"That's it slut," the man moaned unto its ear, "Stay quiet and take it. I promise you'll love my big cock, it'll feel so good, ye?"

It whimpered but nodded in agreement. It hoped he would use lube.

Janet scrubbed at her skin. It felt dirty and sticky. It never went away.

Janet cleaned the house, but it was never clean enough.

She tried to feed herself, but she only ever woke up hungry.

She knew this was why she existed but she wished she could experience more than just this.

Chapter Text

Robin surveyed the scene in front of him. In the batcave in front of the Batcomputer was a drunk Bruce Wanyne. He wished he could say it was the first time, but that would be a lie. 

With a sigh, he walked over to him and prepared himself for whatever mood he could be in.

"Bruce?" He said softly as he placed a hand on his shoulder.

Bruce looked over at him. "Jason?"

Without out any intention or control, a "Yea Old Man" came out, and to make it worse, it was in Jason's distinctive Crime Alley Drawl.

He felt incredibly guilty at pretending to be a dead boy, but... but he could have sworn he didn't say it. He swears he wasn't in control.

Robin persevered through and got a sleepy, 'out of it' Bruce to his feet and tucked into bed. But the ghost of Jason seemed to possess him.

It was honestly a rather distressing situation. A thought occurred to him, thought. Maybe it was another Alter. He sometimes cohosted with Tim and Timothy. Was this a new one?

"Bingo." Thier was that voice again, but in his head?

"Jason?" 

The Alter laughed just like Jason's once had.

"If only, nah, it's just me, a little cookoo." The sounded sad but tried to disguise it with nochulance.

"Why did you manipulate Bruce?"

"Cause B needed Jason. You're not Jason. We'll never be him..." He trailed off, clearly upset but then spoke with a falsely chipper tone." 'Sides was drunk 'sa who cares. Don't wanna suicidal Bruce on our hands. You don't wanna pry the gun from his shaking hands again, do you?"

"No, no, we don't.. "

Tim lept across the rooftops in the iconic traffic light colours of Robin. He felt so free as Robin and wished he could stay there forever. 

"Status report?" Batman commanded through the coms.

"All clear."

"Gang activity by the docks."

Tim was disappointed his moment of freedom was over, but he had a job.

"On my way."

The proceeding fight went smooth. At least until a knife slashed his thigh. He continued to fight, but by the end, he found it hard to even stand. Bloodless. Fantastic.

Tim's consioness faded into blissfully nothingness.

Bruce held Tim close to his chest as he carried the boy to the batmobile. The kid stared into thin air and didn't respond to Bruce. He would be concerned if he didn't already know what was happening.

He was proven right when in the cave Tim cane to. 

"Papa?" He said in a small face. "Hurting."

"I know, kiddo, just getting you some pain relievers now." Bruce softly spoke back.

This wasn't the first time Tim had acted this way. Bruce knew how to act now, but it always felt odd. 

Age Regression. A coping mechanism that is sometimes voluntary other times not. Tim seemed to Age Regress when hurt, tired, and sometimes without any obvious triggers. Alfred and Dick both knew and were great with Tim, thankfully. He himself had tried to broach the topic with Tim, but he seemed to have no memories of his regressions as well as showing signs of distress when he spoke about it.

Alfred came down the stairs and grabbed the medical supplies nessasary.

Alfred was caring and spoke softly to crying boy, and once he was stitched up, he went upstairs. 10 minutes later, he returned with hot coco and Zitka. Zitka was Dick's plush elephant. He had given it to Tim during one of his Age Regressions with him present. Little Tim adored it.

Tim was now wrapped up in blankets in the hospital ward bed, hotchoco in one hand, and Zitka in the other. 

Bruce smiled as the boy giggled at one of Alfred's jokes. It was nice to see the boy so innocent and carefree, but it hurt in comparison to how Tim normally was. 

Bruce had let the poor kid down so much, the worst of it being the JJ Situation. It was definitely something he should think about and get therapy for, but it hurt both of them too much. As long a JJ didn't rear his head, it was fine, right?

JJ stiffled his giggles by biting into his hand while hidden in Tim's closet. Blood was filling his mouth, and his hand shook with pain. He didn't really know how to feel about it, ut felt nice and horrible, but Tim would not like it. He hated holding back the laughter, though. He would do it anyway. He needed to for his family.

Daddy Bats always looked sad and angry when he took control of the body and Dickie, Babs, and Alfie were always sad and avoided him.

He loved them and wished they'd love him back. He knew that to be impossible though, he was little more than an extion of Daddy J. 

He suspected they also hated him because he like hurting people. He didn't like upsetting them which causing them pain did. It didn't make alot of sense to him, Mummy and Daddy J showed him that pain was love. Pain was meant to make you laugh. Still, they didn't like it, so JJ tried to refrain from it.

Hypnos yawned and and snuggled up in his blankets and head rested in pillow. His body felt felt heavy and sore, his eyepuffy. It was ok though, sleep would be here soon.

Tim was honestly scared at this point. Memory lapses happened so much more and JJ was always in his head. Injuries he didn't remember receiving littered his body and Bruce kept trying to talk about Age Regression.  

Was somthing really wrong with him. Why? Nothing bad had happened, other than the JJ Situation, but it wasn't that causing it. He had these concerning things for as long as he remebered but never this bad.

It smiled as it slowly undressed. If it undressed this way the other tended to let it have a little more control. The days where it had more control was so much easier.

It had started to have more female clients as a result of 'getting turned on' as they put it. It always felt wierd and wrong but it's just the way things are.

Janet honestly couldn't help but cry as she cleaned up thier sore body. She didn't understand why the people who were meant to love them sold them. She should be used to the aftermath by now, but yet she never was.

Her main concern though was Tim and Robin when they went on patrol with Batman. How Bruce hadn't noticed was odd to her, but it was possible he had and didn't care.

After cleaning up, she heated up tomato soup and drunk it. Next she curled up in bed and let herself drift out of the front. She hoped little Timmy wouldn't front, but he fronted alot more these days. Poor kid.

Chapter Text

Frustration increased as fake Robin fought back. The brat kept insisting he was better, acted as though he wasn't handed everything on a silver plater and born with a silver fucking spoon in his mouth. He hated him so much that it boiled his blood, bubbling under his skin, and craved his blood.

Jason kept going, kicking, punching, and cutting until Tim was a whimpering bloody mess. It felt so good, and he couldn't help the grin spread across his blood splattered face.

"Do you still think you're better than me?" He taunted.

"Yes," Tim replied, but he sounded strange.

"Crying? Don't be so pathetic, pretender." He snarled.

The crying became louder except it wasn't crying... he was laughing. Jason stumbled back. Small giggles incread to full-on manic Joker laughing. He felt incredibly sick and even angrier.

His joy had utterly disappeared, and his ears were ringing.

"Shut up! Just shut up. Stop messin' with me ya son of a bitch." He punctuated each word with a kick to his ribs.

This only pulled more laughs out of the kid. The kid acted as though he was on Joker Toxin despite Jason knowing he very much hadn't been dosed. There was no way the kid was this good of an actor, this was beyond what Jason had prepared for. 

Fuck that. He left. Not before writing on the wall, though.

John crawled towards the infirmary. Pain was everywhere, mucsles burned, and oxygen seemed to barely make its way to the body's lungs. He doesn't think he's ever been in this much pain, the others, sure, but not him. 

Jason had done this. Jason had beaten up a small child and written on the wall in his blood. JJ laughter and sobs still echo in their head, and the poor kid idolised him. John didn't. He hated the man. Jason was a monster.

A trail of blood was left as he crawled inch by inch. It was painfully slow, but he finally made it there.

Once there, the first thing he did was hit the emergency button, glad the power was back on. Once that was done, he crawled towards the medical equipment, staying on the floor leaning against the wall and began patching up the body. 

Bullet wounds were currently the priority, so that's what he focused on. They were annoying and painful to deal with, but nothing he hadn't done before. Once he was satisfied with the bullet wounds, he moved on to the shallow slice on his throat. It wasn't going to be fun to heal, but it wasn't too bad.

By the time he had disinfected the body's throat, Bruce had arrived. He sighed in relief and collapsed against the wall. He allowed himself to then drift away from the pain.

Hypnos faded in and out of consciousness. When he was awake, all he felt was pain and was only able to whimper and cry until a dark-haired man stuck a needle in his arm, taking away the pain. 

During one point of consciousness, he heard an elderly man speak to two dark-haired men whom he recalled as being those who gave him injections.

"...out for 4 days," said the old men.

"Will he - he's awake." The youngest of them spoke and rushed to his bedside.

He felt hazy and wanted to sleep, and he wanted to be back into its warm embrace. He settled for the man's instead. 

Dick smiled as Timmy, with Zitka clasped in his hands, snuggled into his arms. 

Tim was incredibly sweet when he age regressed, and he loved just hugging him and watching a film with him, but hated that Tim needed to regress.

From the research he'd done, age regression was usually a coping mechanism for those with trauma, typicaly childhood trauma. He wished he knew if that was caused by Tim's parents, but Tim had always seemed exited when his parents were coming home and had never said anything for him to believe they were abusive. 

"You OK Timmy?" He asked the boy when he heard a whimper. "You need more meds?"

Tim shook his head. "Want mummy."

Dick swalled a lump in his throat and then spoke again, trying not to let him feel a show. "She's not here right now, but I'm sure she'll be back in a few days."

Dick wished he could yell at Janet for not being in Gotham and not able to comfort Tim, but she was away on work buissness and Tim was able to look after himself so she didnt really deserve Dick's wrath. He was mainly mad at himself. He wished he was enough for Tim, that he could provide all comfort nessasary, but he wasn't. 

Tim started to cry and clung to Zitka tighter and snuggled closer to Dick's chest. It was hard for Tim to accomplish due to the broken ribs, but if he put his mind to something, he succeeded.

"How about I ask Alfie to make some hot coco and we watch some TV? Sound good?" He offered in attempts to help the boy feel better.

Tim looked up with his big blue eyes shining with tears, blinked a couple of times. "Bluey?"

"Sure thing, kiddo." He gave Tim a beaming smile.

"And ice cream?"

"Definitely!"

JJ was alone. So Alone. He wanted his family there. He wanted to play with them, hug them, hurt them, but they didn't like him. In fact, they hated him.

He knew he was wrong, oh so wrong, but he was still a human. He needed love and family, but the closest he got was Daddy Joker and Mummy, but they didn't like him, not anymore.

His Daddy had been so annoyed and disappointed when JJ shot a bullet through his chest. His last words were "Thats not funny." It hurt. He'd failed his daddy.

His mummy had left before that failed joke, and Daddy said it was JJ's fault. He missed her. He wished he knew what he did wrong.

JJ had also learned that his new family did not like how he expressed his love. It confused him. After all, that's how Daddy showed love. Apparently, that wasn't how you showed love, but... but everyone hurts him. Daddy Joker, Mummy, Tim's parents, Jason, and people that don't even know him.

He wasn't a huge fan of Daddy and his games, but he wished he could go back. It was safe. He was loved, and he knew his place.

His eyes watered, and giggles started. He slapped his hand over his face and did his best to stop the sounds. It proved innafective so he moved to biting his hand. Blood began to coat his tongue and make its way down his throat. It was almost addictive. his laughter stopped. He kept biting till his eyes landed on a cupboard. The cupboard with the 'medical' tools.

He slowly limped over there on his broken leg (a gift from the second Robin!) and was glad to find it unlocked. He flung the doors wide open and grinned upon seeing the array of sharps. Without hesitation, he picked up a scalpel and sliced his left arm. It felt good.

He kept going enjoying the flow of blood and the woozy feeling. The scalpel dripped with crimson, and JJ couldn't resist licking it. Once it was in his mouth, though, an idea struck. A great idea. Daddy's smile. The one Daddy gifted him and Tim tried to erase with plastic surgery. If he did it, if he recreated it, he would feel Daddy's love forever. He could feel love once again.

With two slashes, his mouth wounds gaped open blood freely flowing and rewarding him with more of that addictive taste. True laughter now emerged, and it felt so good. 

He was happy.

He was loved.

Janet was forced to the front and met with so much blood. She could barely cling to consciousness and knew she would surely bleed to death.

Fear clouded her mind her mind and she wanted to scream for help but ot hurt too much. She didn't want to die. She wanted to live. 

Her eyes frantically searched the room for help. She couldn't reach the batcomputer or the alerts on their suits. A thought occurred, though, trackers. If she could destroy the tracker embedded in their arm, then an automatic alarm would be sent.

She took deep, shakey breath, grabbed the scalpel that had clattered to the ground, and made an insission in her upper hand. With a shakey hand, she then stuck her fingers into the wound feel for the tracker. She hissed pain and bile rose up in her trhoar but she had to continue. Relief flooded her as she clasped it in her shaking fingers and crushed it. She didn't have the energy to remove it first. This would have to do.

She only clung to consioness for a few more seconds before everything went black.

Alfred had seen a lot in his life. He'd served his country and seen his fellow men be shot, stabbed, and killed. He'd seen endless photos of crime. Bruce and his Robins had sustained an array or injuries, which he had to patch up. He'd treated Tim after the Titan's Tower incident just a week and a half ago. Worst of all, the photos of Martha, Thomas, and poor Jason's corpses, but nothing prepared him for this. Those he could blame others, were unpreventable, or at the very least,  something he could prepare himself for. This was different.

An alert had come through notifying them of Tim's tracker being destroyed. As protocol called for, he headed to the batcave, knowing that Batman would join soon and maybe Nightwing. 

Upon entry, he smelt blood, lots of it. He found the source of it being the infirmary, and even with his iron stomach, he hurled. 

The kid lay on the ground covered in his own blood, wounds all over his left arm, and a gory sickening Cheshire Grin.

He did his best to push past the nausea and dizziness and rushed into action.

Bruce trusted Alfred to deal with Tim's broken tracker while he finished up taking down some skilled bank robbers.

It didn't take him too long, maybe 40 minutes. It was a little longer than he'd normally take,  but he'd gained some handy information just by waiting and lining in. Two Faces had been in charge and somehow still committing crimes while in Arkham. He'd go their tomorrow and figure this out.

He drove back to the cave in the Batmobile. While he drove, he tried to contact Alfred but had no response. Naturally, this made him concerned. He tried again, and upon another failure, he contacted Nightwing, who agreed to come back to Gotham despite having just gone back to Bludhaven two days ago.

Upon arrival, he quickly exited the viechle. Blood overwhelmed his senses and triggered extreme concern. 

It didn't take long for him to find Tim and Alfred both covered in blood. It was clear the blood was Tim's. It really didn't take a detective. It also looked astoundingly like a suicide attempt if it weren't for the Cheshire Grin.

It truly was a sickening sight that brought tears to his eyes. The boy in his care was not okay, so clearly not. He had always been so strong and reliable. Then the Joker happened. He'd destroyed Tim. Created the monster JJ who plagued his poor boy.

He knew he was looking at JJ's work. It was so obvious, he thought he had gone, that Tim was better. 

He wasn't.

His eyes met Alfred's, and the message was clear. Bruce took his cowl, Cape, and gloves of then stood on standby with the medical tools providing everything Alfie needed. He also contacted Leslie and Dick and stood anxiously, praying Tim would survive.

Tim scrolled through his current case file on the computer, and he had convinced Dick to sneak him. He'd been banned from working on cases but didn't care. He needed to put his mind to something. If he didn't, his thoughts got louder, the louder his thoughts, more JJ spoke, and well, the less he interacted with JJ, the better. He was why he was in this situation.

It was honestly a miracle that he had survived JJ's attack, but he certainly hadn't come out unscathed. Talking only served in tearing his mouth back open, annemia, and he could barely move his left arm. Leslie had told him he would most likely have nerve damage in his arms and face that could greatly affect his performance on the field, that was if he was aloud to be Robin again.

It had been 2 weeks since JJ and a month since Red Hood... since Jason.

Think about it hurt too much, and the all to familiar hazy feeling became present. It felt like someone else other than JJ was present when this happened, and today was no different.

Robin had been present a lot these two weeks, and he hated it. The mouth wound brung back unwanted memories, JJ was all too present, and he was trapped. 

A computer was on his lap with one of Tim's cases open, but Robin couldn't care less. 

Nothing mattered anymore. He didn't matter. Jason hated him. He wanted him dead.

"Sure does," chirped JJ

Bruce loved Jason. He wanted him back home, wanted his son.

"Duh."

Jason wouldn't come back with him alive.

Robin needed to die. Tim needed to die.

"I don't want to die." JJ suddenly sounded scared. "Please don't let us die."

Robin couldn't help but chuckle and then let it morph into sobs.

"Me either." He whispered.

Chapter Text

Robin was a mystery Kon hadn't been able to solve. His personality was all over the place but not only that, his heart beat and breath patterns changed with these personalities. He seemed out of ot alot of the time as well these days. 

None of this was probably noticiable to many people until recently, though. Kon found it confusing but that was Tim.

Tim was his best friend, he loved the guy so much, but he was incredibly wierd and something was most certainly wrong with him.

Joker had made him more unstable and made Kon downright terrified. Red Hood had been the last straw. Kon had been allowed to visit him but it hurt to see him like that and didn't visit often. He knew it was wrong of him and Tim needed a friend but he just couldn't.

Not even a few days ago JJ had cut Tim to bits and it trueley made Kon sick to his stomach. Seeing the gruesome smile carved into his face, and his pale skin caused but blood loss, and the pain he was in so obvious just with his breath.

Where had his Tim gone? The one who was so incredibly smart and brave, always had answers, was kind and compassionate, the funny sassy one. Where had his Tim gone. 

Impulse missed Tim. Sure, he was odd, but who did he know who wasn't. Besides normal is boring.

He hadn't seen Tim since Red Hood's attack, and Gotham was a no meta zone, Barry had made that incredibly clear. He didn't exactly want to be on Batman badside. 

He hoped Tim would recover soon and he could see his friend. YJ and TT was also in desperate need of Robin back. Everything felt wrong without him.

Tim needed time to recover though, and Bart needed to push down his own wants.

Jason hadn't seen Tim back on the streets. He had succeeded, Robin was gone, his wings broken. He may often been tough on the kid but it was his own good.

Still, he couldn't shake the feeling something was wrong. Tim's laughter still rang in his ears leaving him haunted.

Batman and Nightwing had also be a lot less active, probably smothering the brat with love. That hurt but he wouldn't admit it. It's not like they'd been cold back when he'd been Robin, but Dick was rarely around due to his arguments with Bruce. Bruce was one of the most emotionally represented people he had met and as a result, found it difficult to provide the reassurance and love that he needed. He should be glad they were both better at this now but he just wishes he'd stayed alive and relieved what Tim probably did. 

Unless he just wasn't worth changing for? Or maybe his death just triggered the change.

Harley awoke from a Knight Terrors but couldn't push away the images and sounds.

A small boy confusing while stapped to a table. 

The Joker carving a smile on crying child calling to her. Mummy. Her kid. No not her kid, she'd kidnapped him.

A small pale back covered in whip marks.

Laughter echoing in the halls. 

They wouldn't stop, and she only had herself to blame. She was the one to kidnap the boy, to partake in his brainwashing and torture. 

oh haw she wished to change the past.

Chapter Text

Janet's ears buzzed, her body felt numb, and shivers shuddered through her body. She was dead. No Janet was dead. Her mum was dead, but she herself was also dead. The duality was never something she'd had to truly concieve before, and right now, she couldn't.

She knew she wasn't Janet. But she felt like it. She had some of her 'memories' l. Was she dead to?

And her dad/husband (it was truly confusing and disturbing, so yet another thing she never thought about) was in a coma. They didn't know if he would wake. She didn't know she wanted him to.

She knew she should do something, anything but she couldn't. 

Her brain seemed to lag, the world distorted, and dizziness plagued her head while her muscled felt weak and shakey.

Life faded in an out, scenery changing, but she never interacted. People tried to talk to her, but the words sounded distant and nonsensical.

Robin did his best. He really tried.  He wasn't built to be the host. His world seemed to crumble, but he wouldn't let anyone else's. 

A fake uncle later, he was living alone. He was barely scraping by having never learnt to cook or cope with wound aftercare.

He was overwhelmed and wished he'd accepted Bruce's offer, but he knew he'd made the right choice.  He would most likely die, but Bruce was burden free. 

Bruce's main concern about Tim living with his uncle was the resurgence of JJ, but since moving out, he seemed to simply stay in the headspace. Even then, he seemed subdued. 

They all seemed in shock, and he seemed to ever be the only one fronting. He hated it.

Tim had only fronted for their mum's funeral,  for the occasional patrol, visiting their father and nothing else. Timothy wasn't needed, so he didn't front. Timmy was a wreck. He cried, screamed, wailed, clawed his skin, and wrecked the room he was in. 

Thankfully, he was given a break from school to adjust to his new life. Unfortunately, everything remains near enough the same.

Worryingly, a few new habits had developed. He didn't eat, sleep tool up a great portion of his day, and, most concerning, he woke up in random beds with strange people or alone. He knew he must sleep around and expose them all to dangerous situations.

He began to regularly test for STDs and hated himself for having to do it. He didn't know why he was such a slut.

It was in bed with so many people. Some were meant, some nice, but all of them used it. In a wierd way, it found it comforting and safe. It was all it knew; all it was good at.

John had been forced to front now that thier father was awake. He needed constant care which seemed to fall to him. It didn't seem fair, but when did anything?

If he had kept Sherlock alive, he can keep Jack alive. 

Day in, day out, his life was consumed with Jack. Cook, clean the house, calm Jack's temper where the trickiest parts, thoughhe wasn't meant for it.

It wasn't long till Jack found out about Robin and had forbade them from that role. John was happy about that bit and knew Tim wouldn't be, so he argued their case but ultimately lost.

No longer being Robin moved a great deal of weight of his shoulders and reduced overall stress in the system. 

Tim started to front more as time went went on, and Robin frontented when Jack turned violent. This at least provided John some relief.

JJ seemed to be more himself, laughter now often rattling in his skull. But it was a good sign. The system was recovering slowly.

The biggest relief, though, came when Jack died. He felt guilty about being so relieved. The bruises faded and the tension in the house disapated, and, with time, was able to decrease his time fronting.

Tim soon became the host again, but anger seemed to be a leading emotion.

Tim had lost everything. His mom was. His dad was dead. He'd missed months of his life in what he assumed was some type of dissociation.

He'd lost Robin.

And Steph.

Not long after he came to he had found out that Bruce had given her the Robin mantle and let her die. He understood Jason now. The anger he felt, the rage directed at Bruce. But Steph had only tried to help people and she'd been tortured to death. He wasn't mad at her.

Black Mask was dead but his fathers killer wasn't. He'd planned it out, was going to fix the problem, lead the bastard to his grave and let him rot but he didn't go through with.

Maybe he was a coward or finally understood what Bruce had said about not being able to stop. Either way, it didn't matter.

He took the Robin mantle on once again, but this time, it wasn't to save Bruce.

Chapter Text

Why did everyone die? Was he cursed? Tim thought he must be.
Bruce was now dead. It didn't feel real. It couldn't be.

Bruce. The one he'd given his childhood up for. The reason he did not kill boomerang. The reason he didn't avenge his father. And what was he left with? Nothing. Not even Robin.

It wasn't fucking fair.

Are you sure, Jason died.

The voice always startled him but it want the first time it had spoken to him. Auditory hallucination were annoying.

He isnt dead and you know it. 

JJ's sing song voice felt grating today, maybe because Tim was concerned that he was on the same side as the lunitic this time.

The pictures and notes and everything screamed he was right. But Dick.... Dick didnt believe him. Thought he was crazy (and he's right, Timmy Boy) Told him to see someone. He could read behind the lines, Dick thought he belonged in Arkham, that's why he'd taken Robin. So kicked up that an ex assassin was more suitable for the job.

Still, what if he was right. He had to try.

Robin felt his spine shiver as Ra's grinned and agreed to help. He was terrified but he couldn't let it show. 

He couldn't let it show when working with the LOA made him slowly crumble.

He wasn't sure when he disappeared and Drake took over. If he was honest with himself, he was glad. He nor Tim could of coped. It was hard enough coming to, drenched in blood, and on the worst occasions, mutilated corpses infront of them.

Backing down was not option. Even if he had been willing to abandon Bruce, the league had Tam as a "guest". The woman who he would not be able to run WE without. The one who covered up his episodes from public and understood his sparadic work hours.

Tim knew he needed to stay.

His memory was incredibly fractured though. Days would pass by without him realising and doing nothing yet progress happened. 

Drake wasn't sure when he came about, but he didn't really care. All that mattered was the fight. 

More than the fight though, he felt a sick sense of pride at his body count, he felt fuzzy when Ra's praised him, and he felt powerful.

Drake was good at his job, one of the best, and he knew it. So why did he feel like he was doing something wrong?

 They were alive. They were succeeding. That's all that should matter.

Why did he feel so empty, so used, so... guilty?

A gentle hand carved the inner part of his thigh as as Ra's's lips peppered kisses over his naked chest.

"My beautiful boy..." Ra's voice was low and filled with lust.

Beloved wasnt sure he agreed. His chest was more muscled than he felt it should be and his hips to straight. His body felt wrong but these thoughts vanished once Ra's touched his 'clit'.

Moans escaped his lips as he gave into the extacy Ra's always provided. He used to hesitate and cry but he's not sure why anymore.

Ra's was always so gentle and kind. He gave as much pleasure as he recieved, if not more, and spoiled him with gifts. Beautiful ilk robes, roses and luxuries were so willingly given.

Ra's loved him.

Drake had mezzed up. It was unacceptable and would recieved his well deserved punishment. If he survived. 

Two of his group members had been killed and the others Larynx had been destroyed and would most likely join them. Him to.

His abdomen had be stabbed leaving him Incapasitated and vleeding out, blood mixing with the sand, and flies buzzing around his wound.

at the very least the mission had be successful. The League of Spiders no longer much of a threat. But he was a failure.

with his weakness prooved, he let himself slip away.

Pain. So much 

Spider only felt pain. Its vision was blurred and its breath laboured. 

It didnt know how long it had been, and it didnt care. 

It would survive. 

Tim knew it! He fucking knew it! He was right and he had the proof. He knew how to get Bruce back.

Only one thing was preventing him from carrying it out. The LoA. 

Oh Timmy. You silly. Make it go boom!

As much as he hated it, JJ was right. It was  definitely an option but he didn't want to kill anyone. 

He could initiate an evacuation through the system but there was a risk of being caught.

But Tam. He didn't have much of a choice.

My turn then?

It was to be expected if he was honest with himself. Ofcource Ra's would seek Revenge. Ofcource he'd be kicked out of a building.

But his brother caught him. 

Maybe he was safe. Maybe he was wanted. 

Maybe.