Archive of Our Own ^beta

Janet Drake was a storyteller. She loved narrating different tales to Tim. 

There were children's classics like Little Red Riding Hood and Jack and the Beanstalk. There were changed classics like Rapunzel the handsome prince and Hansel and Gretel: the children who ate a witch. She also narrated classic books to him, like The Hobbit and To Kill A Mockingbird. She never read out loud from books, which was why Tim hated reading, but she recalled tales from memory. 

Every night without fail, before little Tim went to bed, she would tell him a story. Tim loved hearing all of them, they took him to places he could never imagine. He loved every single story that spilled from his mom's lips. 

Except for The Adventures of The Naughty Boy Who Had No Name.

Whenever Tim misbehaved, Janet would make him sit down on his knees, then she would sit in front of him, sometimes on a chair, sometimes on the floor, and she would tell him stories of a boy who was a bad child. A boy who never listened to his parents. A boy who was arrogant and selfish. And in every story, the boy always ended up dead. 

Even in The Tale of the Boy And the Button-Eyed Parents, when he was so close to escaping the spider's web, the Other Mother caught him and ate him. The name of the boy was never mentioned, but it didn't need to be. 

Tim was smart. He knew when the stories were about him. 

Janet always loved visuals. She described in detailed length the many different ways the boy died. Gruesome, painful, disgusting ways. 

Janet was an excellent storyteller. And Tim was afraid of those stories coming to life.

Tim was eight when his parents left him alone in the manor for their first trip. 

"You'll behave, won't you, Tim?" Janet said before they went out the door. 

"Yes, mom." 

"Our boy's smart, Jane," Jack drawled, checking himself in the mirror. "He'll be alright." 

"Still," Janet pursed her lips and turned to Tim. "I worry about you, sweetie." 

"I'll be okay, mom. You can count on me. I am the man of the house." 

"That's my boy!" Jack chuckled, clapping Tim on the shoulder. 

Janet smiled tightly and kissed Tim on the cheek before straightening up. "Take care of yourself, darling." 

"And don't forget about the house too. Don't want those purple-eyed elves cleaning it instead, do you?"

Fear enclosed itself around Tim’s heart, but he gave a tight smile and a nod. 

"Bye, Tim! Love you, darling." 

"Bye!" Tim waved.

The door closed, leaving Tim at home. All alone. 

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Tim wasn’t afraid of the dark. 

He was afraid of what was in the dark. 

The lost ghosts with terrible headaches, the shadows with fangs, the huge snakes that were as wide as his height…

His mother hated it when Tim didn’t keep his room clean. His maid would often complain to her about his messes, and instead of cleaning it herself, she would go to Janet instead. After quite a few complaints, Janet had finally sat Tim down and told him the story of the button-eyed girl that liked to hide in messes and the Naughty Boy With No Name who had neglected his room one day and caused the button-eyed girl to appear and eat the mess along with him. 

She fired the maid the next day, saying that Tim should be responsible enough to look after himself since he was older now. It was the first story of the Naughty Boy With No Name that she had ever told him.

So when he saw his first Horror, it was the little button-eyed girl with a smile made of thread. Tim passed out. It was only a couple weeks after his parents had started leaving him at home by himself, so no one had been there to check up on him. When he woke up, he immediately ran to his room to make sure that it was spick and span with no discarded wrappers or tangled blankets for the button-eyed girl to hide in.

Since then, with every passing week he spent alone in a giant, creaky, empty manor, Tim met more and more of the Horrors. He met Rasma the man made of strings, Tispy the giant floating white head, Juno the hungry snake with caterpillar feet, Dolly the doll whose eyes and tongue popped out of her head every few minutes, and many more. 

After a few months, Tim stopped passing out. After a year, he stopped having panic attacks every time he saw them. 

Two years passed this way, since he saw the first Horror. He almost got used to them. 

The Horrors only ever appeared in the darkness, they hated sunlight and loved the shadows. They also avoided his parents, so they were never there when Jack and Janet were home, which wasn’t very often. They never spoke, but always listened. Never touched things and didn’t like being touched either. And they never ever came more than two feet close to Tim. Once he realized that, he wasn’t too bothered by their presence. 

He still was, don’t get him wrong. He was terrified of the monsters that followed him like shadows. Goosebumps never failed to break out all over his skin every time they came. They appeared often enough that he didn’t pass out of fear, but sparse enough to make his heart jump and race every time. 

One thing that Tim found interesting though, was that just like his parents, the Horrors seemed to avoid Gotham’s vigilantes too. Every time he spotted Robin or Batman or Batgirl during his Gotham night outings, they disappeared in a blink. Then as soon as they were gone, they apparated back just as quickly. It made him love Gotham night outings even more. 

One of his key memories was when one of the Horrors had actually helped him figure out the vigilantes’ identity. 

He was out, fiddling with his camera, when Pan the red boy who could fly appeared out of nowhere on the rooftop across from him. It waved at him, the blood on his hand flying everywhere. It laughed without sound at his horrorstruck face with a pointing finger. Then it started walking on its hands, more blood dripping from his feet and coating the rooftop ledge. He did a couple cartwheels, then stood at the edge of the roof, preparing to jump. 

At the same time, Robin appeared on the rooftop next to it. Tim hadn’t noticed him because of Batman’s cape covering his bright colors. 

Suddenly, when Pan jumped, Robin jumped with him. 

Pan’s body synced with Robin’s, their movements becoming one. Pan faded, but Robin stayed, spinning one… two.. three… four times, before firing his grappling gun and sailing to the next rooftop. 

Tim watched with his mouth ajar under the water tower, the dots connecting in his head and his gears firing at all cylinders at lightning speed. 

“Robin…” Tim breathed out, “is Dick Grayson. That makes Batman—”

Batman shot his own grapple gun, landing on the next rooftop next to Robin.

“...Bruce Wayne, my next door neighbour.” 

He watched in awe as Dick and Bruce disappeared from view. And to think he would have missed this, being too busy fiddling with his camera. 

Pan glided down beside him, grinning. “You’re welcome,” it mouthed. 

Tim swallowed nervously at it, but smiled.

------------------------------------------------------------

Dick Grayson quit being Robin a few weeks after that. Some time later, a new Robin hit the streets. 

Tim was curious about this one. He knew the boy behind the mask was Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne’s newly adopted ward. He had never met him in person, but knew from the newspapers that he had been a street kid. It was clear in his fighting style too, more bruteness and street-style quickness than Dick’s fluid and performative tricks.

He was good as Robin though. Dick would always be his favorite, but Jason as Robin was like watching someone magical. He loved the banter Jason held with Batman, the cops and the criminals, more quick-witted and teasing than Dick’s cheesiness (though that was pretty funny too). 

One night, Tim was climbing the water tower ladder, camera strapped to his neck. He was scampering up as quickly as possible. Batman and Robin were due to stop by in the area as part of their patrol route. 

His hands were sweaty with excitement and he moved up the rungs as fast as he could go. When he got to the top, another sight met him. 

Penny the cat with no eyes and a hole for a mouth. 

His heart skipped a few beats and his foot slipped on the next rung. Tim tipped backwards, eyes widening in fear as his hands let go of the ladder. 

He closed his eyes, waiting to hit the ground. 

Several moments passed and nothing happened. 

“Damn, kid! What the hell were you thinking?” 

Tim snapped his eyes open. 

Robin was holding the hood of his jacket, swinging from his grapple through the air. Tim gasped as they approached the building up ahead. 

“Hang tight,” Robin said. He pressed a button on his grapple and the line started retracting quickly, pulling them both up and safe to the next roof. 

They landed, with Tim sliding across the building stone and Jason tucking and rolling. Tim sat up, rubbing the side of his arm and watched as Robin wound his grapple back in and attached it back to his belt. He turned to face him.

“The hell, kid?! Do you know how dangerous climbing high places like that is? What made you pull off that reckless stunt?” 

Tim continued gaping. 

Robin was scolding him. Robin was scolding him. 

“Well?” Jason tapped his foot impatiently, hands on his hips. 

“S— sorry,” Tim whispered. 

“What?”

He shook his head. “Sorry,” he repeated. “I— I didn’t mean to slip. I just saw Penny and got scared.” 

Jason frowned. “Who’s Penny?” 

“Penny the cat with no eyes and a hole for a mouth? The one that scratched the Naughty Boy With No Name to death when he threw his dinner away?” 

Robin’s frown deepened in confusion. “Never heard of that story. Hell, I don’t think you’re supposed to be reading those kinds of stories either. How old are you? Five?” 

Tim bristled. “I’m ten.” 

“Not that it’s any better.” 

Tim huffed, crossing his arms. “How old are you then?” he asked, knowing full well that Jason was only older than him by two years. 

Robin opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again when he realized he didn’t have a good response for that. “Okay, fine. You win that one, but there’s no excuse for why you’re out here climbing dangerous structures alone. At least I’m supervised by Batman.”

“Then where is he?” Tim raised an eyebrow. 

“He’s… around. Again, not the point.” 

Tim tilted his head to the side. “Did you have a fight with him?”

Robin opened his mouth, paused, then closed it back again. “Damn it,” he muttered under his breath. “Okay look. Point is, you can’t be out here. It’s too dangerous.” 

Tim shrugged. “My Horrors protect me. They point out if someone dangerous is about to spot me.” 

“I’m sorry, your what?”

“My Horrors,” Tim dutifully replied, bouncing on his heels. “They’re these monsters that appear from my mom’s stories and kind of follow me around. Penny is one of them. I haven’t seen her before, so that’s why I got scared.” After the first sighting of a Horror, he wasn’t as scared of them the second time they appeared.

Robin stared at him. “Kid, have you been checked out by a psychologist yet?”

“No, why?” 

Robin rubbed his temple tiredly. “I’m going to say this as nicely as possible, but kid, I think you’re being haunted by hallucinations.” 

Tim blinked. Hallucinations. Huh. He… supposed they did make sense. Horrors had a better ring to it though. “I didn’t think of them that way. I thought hallucinations were like, seeing talking pineapples and stuff. My Horrors are… scarier than that.” 

Robin hummed, rubbing his chin inquisitively. “Scary how?” 

“Well, Penny’s eyes look like two gaping black holes that suck out all the light around them. Her mouth is basically a hole with these teeth like spikes and she uses them to replace her claws when they break while scratching people.”

Robin listened to him, a blank expression on his face. 

“She’s pretty scary but nothing like Rasma. I know he’s just strings, but he scared me a lot more than Penny did when he first appeared. Anyways, that’s just an example of one of the Horrors.”

Robin didn’t speak. He just stared.

Several moments passed by and Tim was starting to wonder if he had said something wrong.

“What,” Robin finally spoke. He placed a hand on his head. “Are you feeling okay, kid?”

“I’m fine.” Tim batted his hand away. 

“Kid, what you just described is very absolutely not “fine”. What the fuck?”

Tim chewed his bottom lip anxiously. “Sorry,” he muttered. “They just… appear. I can’t help it.”

Robin’s expression changed, softening. “You don’t have anything to apologize for, I’m just… concerned.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his head. He smiled sadly at him. “It must be really scary being in your head. You’re really brave. If I were you, I’d be kicking and screaming like crazy.”

Tim’s jaw dropped open. 

Him? Brave? 

This might just be the greatest night of his life!

Something beeped from Robin’s suit and Jason uttered a long-suffering sigh. “I gotta go,” he said to him. “It was nice meeting you, kid.” He ruffled his hair. “Do me a favor though? Don’t sneak out without an adult?”

Tim nodded. “Okay!” he lied.

Robin shot his grapple gun. He gave him a salute with a grin. With a “Take care, kid!”, he got pulled by the grapple line retracting and left. 

Tim grinned widely and quickly lifted his camera and shot a picture of the sight. “Bye, Jason,” he whispered. 

Penny the cat appeared again, sitting still on the ledge and watching him with her light-sucking eyes. But Tim didn’t even jump at her sight anymore. Sure it could be because the Horrors weren’t that scary after he had seen them once, but he believed that it was more than that.

Robin called him brave. Jason thought he was brave. And Tim would be damned if he didn’t try his hardest to be just that. 

-----------------------------------------------------------

After the encounter, Tim knew that he had to try extra hard to hide himself when going on his Gotham night outings. Robin knew what he looked like, and he probably told Batman too. So Tim trained up his sneaking skills, improving his abilities to sneak using the shadows and finding small places to hide into. 

Those weren’t the only skills he improved. Every time a Horror (or hallucination, but he preferred Horror) appeared next to him, he took a slow deep breath in and a slow deep breath out, and again when he turned to fully look at them. It helped calm his too-quick heart a little. 

A couple months passed in this way, Tim growing braver and braver each week. 

One night, he was waiting on a spot he had chosen because of its excellent shadow cover and maximum visibility for picture-taking. Batman and Robin were due to arrive any minute now. 

Crayon the nurse made of needles stuck with clay sat next to him. She had an uncomfortable habit of staring at him continuously for hours, but after the first three times, Tim had gotten used to it. He even deluded himself into believing that she was watching him to keep him safe (ignoring the fact that she only existed to stab the Naughty Boy With No Name in his orifices every time he said a rude word, so probably she was watching him to make sure he didn’t swear…). 

He waited for an hour, but the duo still hadn’t appeared. It was likely they were just delayed by a crime, they usually went back to their routes once the crime was solved. 

Another hour passed by and Tim was getting impatient. Crayon was too, because she had given up staring at him and was staring ahead in the distance instead. 

Tim tapped his fingers on his camera. Something must have gone wrong. Maybe Robin and Batman were stuck in a long fight with a gang? Or maybe they decided to solve a case instead of doing their rounds tonight? Maybe they were in a stakeout? Or maybe… they were captured. 

Tim fumbled to get his phone out, drawing Crayon’s attention back to him with his jerky movements. He unlocked his phone and went to Batwatchers, a forum dedicated to posting updates, stories, pictures and videos of Gotham’s vigilantes. It wasn’t terribly reliable since people liked posting fake stuff for clout and attention, but sometimes it did hold grains of truth here and there. 

He scrolled past the ones he knew to be fake (like come one, saying that Batman was openly making out with Catwoman on their fire escape was stretching it too far). His eyes darted across the screen, reading every post. 

Just then, he spotted a video. Videos were really rare in the forum because catching the Bats on camera was a talent solely attributed to Tim. And people could immediately peg down which ones were fake because the real ones were always shaky or facing random spots on Gotham with the Bats never on camera. 

This one was the latter. The person who took this must have been filming from their room. The camera showed a dark alley blocked by a fire escape. Sounds of a fight could be heard. 

“Robin, watch out!” Batman, presumably, yelled. The call was followed by a faint groan. 

“Too late, Batman. I now have both of you in my grasp!” 

Tim gasped when he recognized the voice. That was Scarecrow! He remembered him from when he ended up following a couple escaped Scarecrow goons to their secret hideout underground after a fight with Nightwing. 

The video stopped at a cut-off scream. 

Tim chewed on his bottom lip. This was bad. This was really bad. Batman and Robin were captured by Scarecrow! Chances were that he was the only one who knew where they could have been taken. 

The goons Tim had followed weren’t very careful hiding their tracks that night. He had been able to follow them all the way into the old Gotham underground train station, past the centuries-old unused train tracks and into a hidden tunnel at the end of the rail-line that smelled like it led to the sewers. 

He high-tailed out of there before he could be spotted. He tried warning the GCPD about it, but the officer at the front desk had just kicked him out. Uloo was with him that night, his gleaming white needle-teeth stretching his lips wider and his wrinkled and melted prune-finger wagging at his face, warning him from going back into the Police Department. 

He regretted listening to Uloo now. 

“I gotta go save them,” he said to himself. 

Determined, he packed away his gear into his backpack. Having his camera around his neck would just interrupt him if a fight happened. 

Just then, he paused and turned to Crayon. 

The nurse’s eyes had narrowed, her teethless mouth drooping downward in displeasure. 

Tim scowled at her. “I know what I’m doing. I’m at the top of my Wing Chun Kung Fu and Judo classes. Stop looking at me like that, heck, it would be better if you stopped looking at me at all.” 

Crayon’s eyes narrowed further, her hands with needle fingers slowly raising towards his ears.

Tim rolled his eyes. “I said heck. That’s not classified as a swear word. Check the dictionary.” 

Deciding not to dilly-dally around anymore, he hefted his backpack on his back and marched towards the fire escape.

------------------------------------------------------------

After an insanely long trek through the train station where even Crayon had given up and abandoned him halfway, Tim was left alone to face the sewers. 

He flashed his torch down at the murky brown water filled with God knew what. “Wish Crayon was here,” he muttered. “If she slipped and fell in there, it would sure lift my mood enough to make facing Scarecrow bareable.” 

He followed the ridge that was a foot higher than the gunky sewer waters. It was a long way with a lot of twists and turns, but thankfully, this sewer had no extra tunnels to confuse him. 

Tim was considering taking a break when he heard voices. 

He stifled a gasp and ran closer to the source as silently as possible. 

“Ah, I see you’re awake.” Tim pegged down that voice as Scarecrow’s. “I was hoping that Robin would be awake too by now so the experiment could start as soon as possible, but I suppose we can’t have everything.” 

“You will pay for this, Scarecrow!” That was probably Batman. 

Tim saw the end of the sewer’s ridge, a wall blocked it while the waterway on his right continued on through a metal grate. A light shone out of the left side. He switched off his torch and walked carefully till he reached the light. It was a broken wall entrance, leading to Scarecrow’s experimentation room. 

He peeked through the entrance, taking in the giant room. It had tables full of liquids of various colors, textures and labels. Needles and syringes cluttered around the beakers and vials along with papers and papers of notes and writings. A blackboard was at the far end of the room, drawings, formulae and scribbles covering it top to bottom. 

In the middle of the dim room were two vertical stretcher beds, to which Batman and Robin were tied to with strong leather straps. 

Robin’s head lolled to the side, still unconscious. Batman was glaring at Scarecrow, straining against the bindings. 

“I have an idea.” Scarecrow rummaged around one of the tables, opening the second top drawer and grabbing a syringe. “Why wait for Robin to wake up? His nightmares will be just as interesting as his day ones.”

“No!” 

Scarecrow’s eyes shot to Tim. 

Tim covered his mouth with his hands. Uh oh. He wasn’t supposed to speak. 

“Who the hell are you?” Scarecrow snarled, storming towards him. 

Tim yelped and turned on his heel, running the other way. 

He ran as fast as his little legs could take him, but it wasn’t enough. Scarecrow was faster and had longer legs than him. And with all the walking Tim had done, he was too sore. 

“Gotcha.” Scarecrow grabbed his collar and dragged him to his experimentation room. 

He threw him in front of Batman and Robin. Tim landed on the ground with a pained oomph. 

“Kid!” Robin shouted worriedly.

“What?” Scarecrow frowned at Robin. “You were awake this whole time?” 

Robin glared. “Let him go, you two-bit wannabe doctor!” 

Scarecrow growled. “I see Batman fails to educate his Robins on the subject of respecting his elders.”

“Psh. You’re an elder alright. Isn’t it way past your expiry date?” 

“Insolent welp!” 

Scarecrow moved forward with the syringe. But instead of jabbing Robin, he grabbed Tim and pierced him instead. 

Tim cried out in surprise. He touched the syringe on the side of his neck and pulled it out. 

“No!” Robin screamed. 

“Crane, he’s just a child!” Batman yelled. 

Tim groaned as he slowly got on all fours. His vision doubled, swaying and tilting in every direction. His heart started rabbiting in his chest and his body shook in trembles. The voices around him were muffled. He could hear people arguing and shouting, but couldn’t quite make out the words. 

Tim looked up. 

Right in front of him, was the button-eyed girl. 

Tim gasped and scrambled back till he hit a desk. 

The button-eyed girl stared at him, looking more horrific than before. Her features didn’t look like a doll’s anymore, they looked real. Like a real person who had buttons stitched into her eyes and a thread sewed above her chin. 

Beside her, appeared another monster. Uloo grinned at him. His lips stretched and stretched and stretched till they reached his ears. His eyes, dark as night, blinked slowly. His skin got more and more wrinkled by the second, turning a deep purple. 

One by one, the Horrors emerged in front of him, crowding the room. The man with one leg instead of two, the woman that had no skin or flesh to cover her organs, the Dalmatian dog with lidless eyeballs instead of spots over his body, the girl with clockfaces for eyes, the boy who was covered in beehive-clump holes. 

Every single monster he had ever seen all gathered around him. Staring. Looking. Watching. 

Their bodies were humanoids, living, but stretched, melted, scratched, wrinkled and distorted beyond understanding. 

Tim whimpered, curling into himself. 

The misshapen blue alien with a human face and tendrils that wriggled like worms for limbs reached out to him. Its wriggling thin tendril of blue flesh moved closer and closer to his face. 

Tim cried out and moved back, but the hair at the back of his neck stood on edge and he whipped around to see the old man with unnaturally elongated limbs and exaggeratingly sagging skin. 

“S— stay away,” he called out meekly. “Stay away!” He buried his head in his hands, drawing his knees close. 

He had seen all these monsters before, but never all at once. 

His chest was tightening around his heart, trapping the organ like a frantic caged animal. His hands shook like crazy, and tears welled up in his eyes. 

“Help,” he whispered, not knowing if anyone could hear him. “Please.”

As if in response, a voice surfaced to his head, “You’re really brave. If I were you, I’d be kicking and screaming like crazy.”

Tim stopped. 

“You’re really brave.” 

Brave. 

Robin thought he was brave. 

Was he, though? His mother always said that the Naughty Boy didn’t have a name, but he knew it was him. She didn’t think he was brave.

…But when has she ever stayed around long enough to even see him be brave, let alone scared?

Tim lifted his head, looking at the monsters. 

That was right. His parents had never bothered to watch him grow the past two years. They were on their great trips, hunting treasures and going on adventures. They didn’t even call except occasionally. 

Tim had no regular adult figure to look after him, help him, cheer for him from the audience, celebrate his consistent grades, listen to him when he got excited about something. 

He just had his Horrors, his hallucinations to rely upon for company. 

Maybe… maybe the real monsters weren’t the Horrors at all. Maybe it was his parents. His dad, for barely giving him the time of day, and his mom for relying on her stories to do the parenting. 

Tim closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He held it in for five seconds, then let it out. He repeated, holding for five seconds, then slowly letting it out. 

Once his heart calmed down, and his chest stopped crushing him again, he opened them back up. 

The Horrors were there, watching, looking, staring. But not maliciously. They had never been malevolent to him. They never hurt him or even made fun of him. In fact, they had even helped him at times. 

Like how Uloo didn’t want him to go back to the police station because he would have been taken under suspicion if he showed up again. Rasma always pointed at unassuming corners, giving him enough time to hide before people came. Tispy liked gliding over to rooftops where Batman and Robin would suddenly appear. Juno and Dolly stood on top of puddles and garbage and things so Tim would see them and avoid them. And Pan… Pan had helped him figure out Robin and Batman’s identity. 

Each Horror his mom talked about corresponded with a good manner. Being clean, never being mean, using polite language in front of others. 

Maybe the Horrors were real and only Tim could see them, maybe they weren’t and they were a hallucination like Jason had said. Either way, they had been there for him when his own parents had not. 

And they were here now. 

For the first time since seeing the Horrors, he wasn’t afraid. He felt brave. He felt courageous. 

Like Robin said he was. 

Right now, he and Batman were in trouble, and Tim was the only one around to save them. Through his blurry vision, he could make out rough figures of them and Scarecrow. The latter seemed to be monologuing. He was distracted, Tim could use that. 

He got up on slightly wobbly feet, holding on to the desk for support. 

“I know all of you helped me before,” he addressed his Horrors, whispering just in case. “I’m sorry I didn’t acknowledge it. Thank you for looking out for me. I need your help again right now. Do you have a way to defeat Scarecrow and free Batman and Robin?” 

His Horrors didn’t respond immediately. They were all slower than average human speed, so Tim gave them a moment. 

Gradually, as one, they held up their fingers—or equivalents—and pointed at a drawer of the desk at the back wall of the room, beside the blackboard. 

Tim walked towards it, steps shaky but steady. His Horrors parted to let him through. 

He got to the desk and pulled open the drawer. In it, were a collection of syringes labelled ‘Fear Toxin - Extreme’. Tim grinned. 

He grabbed one from the drawer and turned around to where Scarecrow was, still distracted with his monologue. 

Tim puffed up his chest, determination on his face. “You’ve got a lot of nerve to dredge up all my fears, you cheap Temu Horror,” he hissed, “But I’m a brave kid, and my fear will be your downfall!” 

With a yell, he charged forward and leapt as high as he could. He stabbed the needle into the back of Scarecrow’s neck and pressed down the plunger, draining the liquid into his body. 

He was immediately thrown, and his back hit the floor. He stirred, a hand rubbing his head, and flitted his eyes over to Scarecrow. 

Through his blurry vision, he saw the villain contort and thrash in pain and fear. He dropped to the floor, curling into a fetal position and twitching. 

Dolly waved him over, grabbing his attention. Her tongue popped out, landing on a table with a knife. 

Right! Batman and Robin were still tied up. 

He ran over and grabbed the knife. Crouching near the vertical beds, he stared at the bindings. His eyes were still unfocused. He might accidentally cut them instead of the bindings. 

“Here,” he said, holding the knife near Batman’s hand. “You cut yourself out. I still can’t see because of the fear toxin and might nick you by accident.”

The knife was taken from his hand and he stepped back, swaying heavily. A few moments later, the blurry figure of Batman jumped off the experiment bed and rushed towards him. 

He held his shoulders and said something. 

Tim tried making out the words, but failed. It was all too muffled. 

Batman reached into his belt and pulled out something that resembled another syringe. He was getting really tired of needles now. He had seen enough with Crayon anyway. 

As if she could hear his thoughts (they all probably could), she waggled her needle fingers light-heartedly. 

Tim waggled his fingers back. 

Something pricked his neck, and Tim yelped, hand shooting to it. Batman pulled out the needle and moved back. 

Tim clutched his head as it abruptly doubled in pain. He grunted, falling to his knees. His eyes watered and he blinked to clear them. 

One at a time, his Horrors started disappearing. 

Batman must have administered the antidote for the fear toxin, so now, his Horrors who had been summoned by it must be going. 

They each waved goodbye with their hand or hand-equivalent before vanishing. Tim watched them go, feeling something like affection settle in his chest. 

He hoped they wouldn’t be gone forever, though something in his heart told him that they would be back. One by one, each week, like a roster work shift. It probably was a roster. He wondered where they actually lived and if looking after him was a job that they took on in their world. 

Before he could wonder anymore, someone attacked him. In a hug.

“Kid! I was so fucking worried about you!” 

Crayon pouted in displeasure at Jason’s swear before giving him a wave and disappearing. 

“You upset Crayon,” Tim said. 

Jason broke apart from the hug. “Crayon? Is that one of your hallucinations?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Can you still see them? Did the antidote work?” 

“Calm down, Jason. Yes, it worked. She just disappeared right now, along with the others.” 

Robin sighed in relief. “Okay good. You got me so worried there! What happened to that promise about sneaking out without— Hold on, what did you just call me?!”

Tim froze. Oops. 

“Kid.” Robin shook him slightly. “Kid, what did you just call me?” 

“Um…” Tim ducked his head. “I called you Jason. I know who you are. I know who you are too.” He glanced up at Batman sheepishly. “You’re Bruce Wayne. And Nightwing is Dick Grayson and Batgirl might be Barbara Gordon because she and Dick hang out a lot and she also has bright red hair like Batgirl.” 

Jason’s jaw dropped open. Conversely, Bruce’s jaw clenched tight, that seemed to be how he showed surprise. 

“H— how?”

Tim cleared his throat. “I’ll tell you only if you promise to not tell my parents about me going out at night.” 

“Who are your parents? Are they even real at this point or just hallucinations like your freaky cat?” Jason asked. 

Tim blushed. “My parents are real, I can touch them and everything. I can’t touch my Horrors. Their names are Jack and Janet Drake.”

“The next door neighbours?” Batman sounded dumbfounded. “Wait, you’re Tim Drake?” 

Tim nodded. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be with your parents in Thailand?” 

Tim averted his gaze. “I don’t want to talk about it.” He had a lot of thinking to do on that subject. 

“...Alright.” Batman sighed. “Tim, is it okay if we take you to the Batcave after GCPD arrives to take Scarecrow away?”

Tim’s eyes nearly popped out of his skill like Dolly. “I get to see the Batcave? For real?”

“As real as your hallucinations.”

“Jason,” Batman warned.

“What? It’s funny.” Jason shrugged.

Tim squealed, bouncing in excitement. “Yes, please! I’d love to! Do we get to ride in the Batmobile too?”

“Think of it as a reward for being so brave.” 

Tim could explode with happiness right there and then. “Yes!”

“I would like to check and see if you’re completely okay, Tim.” Bruce put a hand on his shoulder. “That toxin was a new strand.” 

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about me being scared anymore.” Tim waved him away. “My Horrors are scarier than whatever life or fiction has to offer. I’m pretty sure I’m immune to fear now that I’m not scared of them anymore.”

Jason and Bruce gaped at him. 

“What?” 

“Kid, what does that mean? What do you mean you’re immune to fear now? Huh?” 

Tim turned red. “It’s a long story.” 

Batman sighed, pinching the bridge of his noise. “Okay. One at a time. We’ll deal with this one at a time. For now, Robin, can you call Commissioner Gordon while I tie up Scarecrow?” 

Robin saluted in answer. 

He flung an arm around Tim as they walked out of the room. “So, Tim. I got a question, how do you feel about testing those fear skills with horror movies?” 

“Jason… No.”

“Have you seen the Conjuring yet?”

“Robin.”

“I’d like to give it a try, actually.”

“Suck it, B!” Jason stuck his tongue out at the man. He turned back to Tim. “We’re going to have so much fun together, Timmy.” 

Tim beamed. “Sounds great.”