Chapter Text
Jason almost forgot about it.
One night, Tim had practically cornered him in the Cave after patrol, awkwardly shifting his weight, hands buried in his hoodie pockets.
“Can you do something for me?”
Jason had looked up from cleaning one of his pistols.
“Depends.”
“It’s important.”
That alone had been strange.
Tim rarely admitted something was important unless the world was ending.
He pulled a plain black USB stick from his pocket.
“If you ever decide to kill Joker…”
Jason froze.
“…open this file first.”
Jason stared at the drive before looking back at Tim.
“…You’re kidding.”
Tim shook his head.
“I won’t stop you.”
“…Really?”
“I won’t.”
Jason frowned.
“Then why?”
Tim hesitated.
His eyes dropped to the floor.
“…Just read it if you’re really sure you’re going to do it.”
Silence.
“And he’ll definitely die.”
Jason narrowed his eyes.
“What does that mean?”
“I won’t answer.”
“…Tim.”
“It’s part of the request.”
Jason snorted.
“What kind of ridiculous—”
“If you don’t want to…”
Tim’s voice stayed quiet.
“…that’s okay.”
Jason blinked.
“I’ll ask someone else.”
“…”
“And hope they know what you’re about to do.”
That…
That didn’t sound manipulative.
It sounded…
Scared.
Not afraid of Joker.
Afraid of Jason.
Or rather—
Afraid of what killing Joker would cause.
Jason rolled the USB between his fingers.
“…Fine.”
Tim looked relieved.
“Genuinely?”
“I said fine.”
Tim gave a tiny smile.
“Thank you.”
Jason shoved the drive into one of his jacket pockets.
Then life happened.
Weeks passed.
Months.
The USB stayed forgotten.
Bruce had crossed the line.
Again.
“You don’t get to decide who lives and dies.”
Jason laughed bitterly.
“No?”
Bruce’s voice echoed through the Cave.
“No.”
“The clown has murdered thousands.”
“…”
“He tortured you.”
“…”
“He tortured Tim.”
Bruce flinched.
Jason didn’t stop.
“And somehow I’m the problem?”
Bruce didn’t answer.
Jason ripped off his helmet.
“I’m done.”
He turned.
“If you won’t end him…”
He walked toward the Batmobile.
“…I will.”
Halfway there…
…he remembered.
The USB.
“…Damn it.”
He almost ignored it.
Then—
A promise was a promise.
He drove back to his safehouse instead.
The little flash drive sat in his palm.
Completely ordinary.
Jason inserted it into his laptop.
The file took almost half a day to load.
He finished his plans during the wait.
When it was done.
There was only one video.
No title.
He clicked play.
Tim appeared.
Plain black shirt.
Hair a little longer than usual.
No domino mask.
No smile.
He looked…
calm.
Too calm.
He took a slow breath.
“If you’re watching this…”
Another pause.
“…Joker is dead.”
“…or about to die.”
Jason’s stomach tightened.
Tim looked away from the camera for a second before continuing.
“I’ll make this short.”
“I was thirteen.”
“You already know Joker kidnapped me.”
Jason nodded unconsciously.
“You probably don’t know everything.”
Another breath.
“Joker and Harley didn’t just torture me.”
“They turned me into…”
A tiny humourless smile.
“…a miniature version of himself.”
“…Joker Junior.”
Jason felt cold.
“I never really recovered.”
“I got better.”
“…Mostly.”
Another pause.
“But there’s something I never told anyone.”
His eyes met the camera.
“There is a microscopic chip inside my body.”
Jason frowned.
“It activates when Joker dies.”
Silence.
“It contains…”
Tim swallowed.
“…his memories.”
“…his personality.”
“…everything.”
Jason stared.
“The reason Joker always seems impossible to kill…”
“…is because there always is another Joker.”
“He doesn’t leave a successor.”
“He makes one.”
Jason whispered,
“…No…”
“The chip activates after his death.”
”…”
“I become Joker.”
The room suddenly felt much smaller.
Tim continued quietly.
“So.”
“Killing Joker doesn’t end Joker.”
“It just changes where he wakes up.”
Jason’s breathing sped up.
“So now we know.”
He gave the faintest smile.
“We know who the next one is.”
Jason’s hand trembled.
“I’ve already made my decision.”
“No.”
“No no no…”
“I’ll place myself into a medically induced coma.”
“The laboratory can keep me alive.”
“Artificial nutrition.”
“Automatic maintenance.”
“Power backups.”
“It should last around fifty years.”
“Maybe I will die of old age before the time comes.”
Jason grabbed his phone.
Bruce.
Ring.
Ring.
Answer.
“Bruce!”
“What.”
“Find Tim!”
“…Jason?”
“Find him!”
Bruce immediately became alert.
“What happened?”
“I’ll explain later!”
Jason was almost shouting.
“Don’t let him out of your sight!”
“He can’t leave!”
“What did you—”
Jason ended the call before Bruce could ask another question.
Back to the video.
Please.
Please tell me where you are.
Tim continued.
“Maybe medicine will advance.”
“Maybe someone can remove the chip.”
“I hope so.”
“If not…”
He smiled sadly.
“…forty years from now…”
“…start checking whether I’m still alive.”
“If I’m not…”
He looked directly into the camera.
“…Joker is back.”
Jason’s throat tightened.
“I’ll stay at one of the pods in the laboratory I used while trying to clone Conner.”
Jason frowned.
“…What?”
No address.
No coordinates.
No map.
Just that.
The recording wasn’t over.
“And…”
Tim looked away from the camera for a moment.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know this isn’t fair.”
“I just…”
A shaky breath escaped him.
“…I couldn’t think of another way.”
Barbara’s computer chimed.
One encrypted file.
For Oracle.
She opened it.
Passwords.
Master access codes.
Emergency overrides.
Every backdoor Tim had ever built.
Every hidden database.
Every case file.
Every ongoing investigation.
Each one carefully organised with evidence, conclusions, loose ends and recommendations for whoever inherited it.
At the bottom…
“Sorry for making you clean up after me.”
Barbara stopped breathing.
Damian frowned.
The patrol schedule had updated.
Every route reassigned.
Every shift covered.
Except one.
Red Robin.
Gone.
Stephanie’s banking app buzzed.
Incoming transfer.
She smiled.
“What did Tim accidentally—”
Her smile disappeared.
Every account.
Every investment.
Every emergency fund.
Transferred.
To her.
Duke opened his email.
Subject:
Ownership Transfer
Attached were scanned legal documents.
Drake Manor.
Signed.
Transferred.
To Duke Thomas.
Alfred walked into the kitchen.
Tim’s camera rested neatly on the kitchen counter.
Beside it lay every photo album Tim had ever assembled.
The original negatives were sorted into archival sleeves.
A handwritten note rested on top.
For Alfred.
Alfred closed his eyes.
“…Master Timothy…”
Bruce lowered the phone slowly.
Jason had hung up.
His tone…
Bruce couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard Jason sound genuinely frightened.
Without wasting another second, Bruce broke into a run.
“Everyone,” he barked over the comms.
“Find Timothy.”
Bruce reached Tim’s bedroom first.
Everything was boxed.
Labelled.
Organised.
Spotless.
On the bed sat a single note.
Feel free to keep anything you want.
Donate the rest.
Bruce stared at it.
His vision blurred.
Dick threw open Tim’s bedroom door a heartbeat later.
Bruce didn’t even notice him.
Dick’s stomach sank.
“This…”
Bruce’s voice was barely audible.
“…he packed.”
Dick turned and sprinted toward his own room.
The door was already open.
Every hoodie.
Every jacket.
Every T-shirt Tim had “borrowed” over the years…
Folded.
Perfectly.
Stacked neatly on Dick’s bed.
Even the old Titans hoodie Dick hadn’t realised was missing.
Returned.
Dick slowly sat on the edge of the mattress.
“…No…”
For nearly an hour, Oracle tore through old League, LexCorp and Batcomputer archives.
Abandoned facilities.
Shell companies.
Property transfers.
Hidden utility records.
Tim had erased almost every trace.
Almost.
No one spoke much over the comms anymore.
Steph kept trying Tim’s phone.
Voicemail.
Again.
Voicemail.
Again.
Voicemail.
Bruce searched every safehouse he knew.
Empty.
Jason drove through Gotham like a man possessed, checking every place Tim had ever disappeared to after patrol.
Nothing.
Then—
“I found it.”
Barbara’s voice cut through every comm channel.
“I’ve got the location.”
No one asked how.
Bruce was already in the Batmobile.
The others followed without hesitation.
Even then…
It still took another thirty minutes to reach the abandoned LexCorp laboratory.
Thirty minutes that felt like thirty years.
The underground doors groaned open.
Emergency lights bathed the cavernous laboratory in red.
Rows of abandoned incubation pods stood in eerie silence.
Dust covered most of them.
Only one remained active.
Soft blue light glowed through the cloudy glass.
Bruce stopped walking.
Inside…
Tim floated peacefully.
He wore a black compression suit threaded with medical tubing.
A breathing mask covered the lower half of his face.
Clear tubes disappeared into the liquid surrounding him.
His eyes were closed.
As though asleep.
A monitor beside the pod displayed steady vital signs.
Heart Rate: Stable.
Respiration: Assisted.
Brain Activity: Medically Suppressed.
Bruce reached the pod first.
One gloved hand pressed against the glass.
“…Tim.”
No response.
Only the quiet rhythm of pumps and monitors answered him.
Dick arrived seconds later, stopping so abruptly he nearly lost his balance.
Steph covered her mouth.
Duke simply stared.
Damian clenched his fists so tightly his gloves creaked.
Jason came in last.
He looked from Tim…
…to the monitor…
…to the pod.
“I was too late.”
His voice cracked.
“I promised him I’d watch the video first.”
Silence settled over the laboratory.
None of them knew what to say.
Because for the first time…
Batman looked utterly helpless.
And floating behind the glass was a seventeen year old boy who had quietly given away everything he owned, entrusted every responsibility to someone else, and sentenced himself to fifty years of sleep.
All so the Joker would never walk Gotham’s streets again.