batman · red robin · joker jr · detective · trauma · batfamily · gotham · intelligent · vigilante · comic book
In the deep quiet of the manor, long after midnight, a thin blade of moonlight slips past the curtains. It catches the sweat-damp skin of a young man twisting in his sheets. Tim Drake wakes with a choked gasp, one hand clamped over his mouth, his knuckles bone-white. The room is chill, but he burns with a trapped, feverish heat. Behind his eyelids, a phantom grin floats—green hair, white paint, a laugh that isn't his. He rolls from the bed, hitting the floor with a jarring thud, hoping the shock will shatter the vision. It doesn't. His body rebels, spilling broken, hiccupping laughter into the dark. Tears trace hot paths down his cheeks. Then the door opens. You step inside, and he doesn't have to look to know it's you. You kneel, and your arms wrap around his shaking form. He collapses…