[OPEN] When the cure's as bad as the cold.

[mostdangerousbird]

Who: Tim Drakemostdangerousbird
What: Robin is lovingly and semi-willingly forced to get out of Central City to get the fuck out of Joker's way recuperate in Little Love
When: Approximately July 4-20ish
Where: In and around Little Love, and the guild residence of Bart Allen
Content Warnings: Possible discussion of the Joker, assault, and mental health.



[ OOC: These are meant to be loose scenarios rather than absolutely precise starters. If you can't figure out a way to bounce off one of them, please let me know and I'll do something more direct for you. ]

The First 72 Hours

[ He is a predictably bad patient, made worse by the fact that his body's newfound ability to heal has him semi-mobile even before he's even brought to Little Love. Tim isn't trying to consciously self-sabotage the healing process, but he hasn't let himself fall asleep since he got here, although he knows that he'd heal more if he did. The ibuprofen and caffeine supplies are going down quickly, when no one's looking.

Retreats to the guestroom are strategic, and Tim doesn't bother to pretend otherwise to friends. Any excuses would result in offerings of alternative solutions or arguments, and he wants neither.

What he wants is distraction or escape from his own head. When all else fails, he wants to curl up where he can't be observed. For the first few days, Tim swings unpredictably between the two.

If it's the former, he can be found anywhere on the grounds of Bart's little farm at all hours. While he'll stick close to the house, he won't run inside if someone drops by for a visit. He won't run anywhere, actually, because Tim's trying to mask the limp, but he also won't resist any idea or hug. He's using up all of his spoons on covering up the worst of the damage: everything else is pliant drifting through the day. ]

Day 3-10

[ Tim is increasingly feeling cooped up. Yes, worse than the chickens. Yes, he gets it - he's a birdie too, ha ha.

(Ha^HAhaHA_hA)

He can't sit still, and so spends a lot of time walking around Little Love, now that he's healed enough to not limp. Most of the time, there's at least one friend with him, but not always. The town is fine, in a stereotypically small Midwest town sort of way. He's never lived anywhere where the downtown was practically one intersection, and the houses are all singles. The tall building is 5 stories, and a bunch of side streets don't have a sidewalk.

Really, he feels a bit like Spock on an away mission, especially when he encounters a buckeye at the local greasy spoon, or that the bakery is closed on the weekends. Huh. The library, too, is so much smaller than he's used to, although the librarian is kind enough to offer to get the books in from the big branch in the nearest city.

Maybe you find him looking perplexed, as a farmer tries to explain why the cornfield on the right side of the street is superior to the left side.

Maybe you find him reading and re-reading a flier for a kegger on the riverbank with an increasingly furrowed brow.

Maybe you try to forcibly piggy-back him home because he hasn't slept in 32 hours over his protests that, really, this is not necessary. ]

Day 11-14

[ But after awhile, Tim is just done with this town and desperately seeking a signal that it's safe to go back to Central City, where he can get espresso at 2 am and no one will judge him.

He's still venturing out, but more time is spent aggressively typing away at something on his laptop rather than making friends with the locales. Back to the wall, privacy film on the screen, one key window-swapping sort of typing. His conversations increasingly revolve around when he gets home and how he's starting to feel like taking this much vacation will lead more work when he returns. ]

Comments

First days

[kid_flash_found]

Bart knows Tim needs to relax and let his body heal. That he didn't need to be hospitalized is wonderful, but there's only so much pushing one should do. So he's tried to urge his best friend to relax, to slow down, as hypocritical as that feels sometimes. Others, he's just trying to help with the mood.

Like now. He's in the kitchen, pretending to ignore the Robin-shaped lump on the couch with a tablet compulsively researching everything he can find about recent events as he simmers milk in a saucepan, making cocoa in what clearly the slowest way imaginable. But it also means it's rich and creamy, and not powdery and gross like the instant. He'd made an effort to learn for these moments.

"So, do you want me to add anything flavor-wise? I've got a bunch of spices that could work for something more like mexican chocolate, or raspberry or..." Well, he was mostly pretending to ignore what Tim was doing, not that he was there.

[mostdangerousbird]

The Robin-sized lump is fine with being ignored, honestly. It means there's less eyes on the articles that he's reading or, at this particular moment, the full downloaded video of the livestream that Tim dug off of the equivalent of 8chan. OurPowers may have pulled it down, but nothing is ever gone from the internet.

Tim's watching it on mute, pausing and rewinding and zooming to look for something - anything that one of the others missed. That says where else the Joker might be. Because no one's telling Tim anything about that, and it's driving him crazy.

"Uh..." Cocoa comes in flavors? Chocolate, white chocolate, dark chocolate... Tim's missed half of what was said to him, and that feels like yet another thing to cover up. He has to answer like he's been paying attention. "I prefer plain cocoa, thanks."

[kid_flash_found]

"That's fine. Just a few minutes, then," Bart responded. Tim's out of it, but he's used to that. The hyperfocus is normal, but Bart is mildly concerned about the direction.

Yes, they absolutely need to find the Joker, hopefully before his next plan, but that's not a given, not in Gotham, and definitely not here. Besides, there's enough of them keeping an eye on things.

"It's okay to not be okay right now, you know that, right? You don't have to pretend you're fine." The sounds in the kitchen are simple ones, and soon the rich smell of chocolate infuses the air. Bart fills two mugs and turns down the heat, just enough to keep the remaining cocoa, enough for another cup or two warm without reducing too far, then comes over, sitting next to Tim without much regard for his space.

And sees what he's watching. "I don't think you'll see anything you didn't the first hundred times. Take a moment for this."

[mostdangerousbird]

"I'm not pretending that I'm fine. I am fine," Tim points out without looking up from what he's doing. His expression and tone stay perfectly neutral. It... doesn't really matter if it's true or not. There's nothing else he feels comfortable saying after having been involuntarily, publicly vulnerable.

It's not something he can ignore when he's currently studying the video. Everyone saw exactly how much he screwed up - and they can still see it. He's always felt like he has to prove himself as being able to hold his own, on a team, as Robin... and now it's like he's never proved anything. The video reaches the end, and Tim locks the screen and sets the tablet to the side.

"Thanks for this," Tim says as he relieves Bart of a mug. "The cocoa and letting me stay here."

[kid_flash_found]

"Tell that to someone who isn't aware you're limping," Bart retorts, but lets that part drop. He doesn't want to fight. Doesn't want to ruin things.

"That shithole you and Kon call an apartment isn't the kind of place that screams rest and relaxation," he teases. But it's their choice, and he doesn't blame it. "I figure the least I can do is let you have a little space that is fairly secure and off the general radar. Even if Joker knew we were all here, what would be in it for him to attack a place so...American Gothic?"

There wasn't an drama in it, no pizazz. It was probably about as safe as they could get without falling off the grid entirely.

"I remember what it was like when Deathstroke shot me. When Bedlam tried to use me to rewrite the universe. And you...you're a lot stronger than I've ever been. Better at this."

The first 72 hours

[lowercase_el]

[The fields are beautiful at this time of day, with the gentle orange and pink glow of the sunset catching on waves of golden wheat flowing into the distance.]

[Kon sees him outside. He's been watching a lot from the window, and listening a lot when Tim's out on the property and needs time to himself, constantly keeping a bead on him. He wants to wrap him in cotton but also knows Tim would take a few hits to the self-esteem and self-concept if he does.]

[So he gives him some space and remembers the time Kal taught him to milk a cow, how to approach it carefully, and gently, how to back off when needed. Then he'd applied the same lesson to himself, made it clear he wanted to let Kon get closer to Clark Kent but also needed to go slow.]

[In some ways it'd hurt, but in retrospect he understands. He'd been afraid of outside things encroaching the space on the farm where he could just be himself, where it was safe to stop being someone made of steel. And he'd probably been scared about Kon being made without his consent to hurt him or Lois or Ma and Pa somehow.]

[And he'd been right all along. Kon counts his blessings every day that the control programming hadn't somehow been triggered on the farm or that he'd been directed there while it was active.]

[So, Tim needs space, and Kon knows how to give it, but Tim also doesn't know he needs comfort and to let his guard down. He never does. He also needs the basics of self-care like sleep.]

[He needs for Kon to walk over slowly and carefully, making himself known before getting close so he doesn't surprise him. He hops up and sits on the broken rung of the low fence near him, the fence he's pacing along. It's definitely pretty low. He's still in a good position to hug easily.]

Hey. C'mere. And before you say you don't need a hug, keep in mind it's for me, too.

[It's quiet and direct and gentle and also not that different from the usual. He didn't used to be like this, the type to hug easily, but he is now after the world almost ended (again) with all that craziness with the Batman-Who-Laughs and everyone remembering their other past selves. Kon had nothing to remember because he'd missed all the reality reboots, but he has learned something from the soft goodbyes he and his friends had offered each other when they thought it was close to the end.]

[He's learned how stupid it was to hold back when it all could end in a heartbeat.]

[He's offered the occasional hug since and asked for the occasional hug, even if he doesn't do it all the time.]

[mostdangerousbird]

[ Between Bart’s speed and Kon’s senses, Tim has been struggling to micromanage everything from his expression to how to hide the need to blow his nose after crying out of what he can only assume is delayed shock. Once he figured out that he needed to treat it like a nosebleed, he was fine.

He’s not surprised when Kon turns up. It’s probably his turn to mind Tim. Which… isn’t a fair way to view what Kon and Bart have been doing. But it’s hard to just openly embrace the kid gloves. Passive acceptance is easier.

Blinking at the request and clarification, Tim does head over to the fence after a few moments. He manages to hoist himself up on the flat-topped fence post to the left of Kon - that rung that Kon’s balanced on doesn’t look like it will hold the combined weight without Kon telekinetically reinforcing it. And Tim is trying to minimize the amount of effort made on his behalf.

He opens his mouth to say that it’s somehow cheating to say it’s for Kon, too, but the memory of bear-hugging a resurrected Kon swims to the surface. That hug had been purely for Tim.

Tim looks away. ]

It’s going to be okay.

[lowercase_el]

[Kon throws a big strong arm around Tim's shoulders and says something that contradicts all the kid gloves a little.]

I know you'll eventually be okay. You're one of the strongest people I know, and you've dealt with this kind of crazy evil since you started out. You got through it no matter how many times it's messed with you.

[He turns to look at him, expression gentle but also full of the same faith as usual. It may take time to heal, and it may take work, but he knows Tim won't let this ruin him, and he won't let this change him into something he's not.]

[Especially with people that love him there to keep him safe - physically and emotionally - as he picks up the pieces.]

[That's where gradually becoming okay starts, even if it has far to go before it's finished.]

But you're allowed to not be okay for a little while first. And you need to rest. You'll heal faster and it'll help rev down your brain. Which I know is probably going a million miles a minute right now.

Especially after all that coffee.

[He heard the rustling of him quietly scooping out the grounds to make it when he and Bart weren't in the kitchen.]

[mostdangerousbird]

[ Tim just lets the side hug happen. And keep happening. Maybe he doesn’t lean into it, but he sinks into a more relaxed, slouched position under the weight of it as if the weight on his shoulders revealed the weight on his shoulders. ]

I don’t want to be not okay here. I wouldn’t want to be not okay anywhere, but putting this on you and Bart?

[ It’s not right. They’ve been through enough - Bart’s been here alone for nearly as long as Kon was in Gemworld - this was nothing. This was just a few days. And like Kon said, Tim’s gotten through it so many times before. ]

I hate that you saw it. I’m used to handling it on my own, in Gotham, and you and Bart get to hear what I want to say.

[ While the live stream was but a fraction of the time he was kidnapped, it’s enough that no amount of careful word choice will all-low Tim to steer their reactions and feel in control. ]

I only had a few cups.

[ In the sense that he only filled the drinking vessel three times. It was pretty big, though, and he’s had significantly more than 24 ounces at this point. ]

Farms are very restful.

[ He doesn’t want to sleep and heal. That meta ability is a sick joke, and it got used against him over and over again. And he kept jerking awake to the Joker laughing. Looming. Preening. Dropping his voice into a true threat. Or worse - not being in the room at all and anything could be about to happen because Tim didn’t know where the Joker was. Oh god, they still don’t know where he is.

Tim braces his hands on the fence to steady himself, but his pulse has jumped up by 20. ]

… got all the rest you can stand.

The first 72 hours

[chin_godzilla]

(Fortunately for Tim, a distraction is exactly what he gets. It starts out as impact tremors that grow in intensity, something large closing in on the farm. Spotting Godzilla is easy; watching him approach is easier. He stops before he's too close to the house, reaching for a charm in his possession that shifts him from thirty stories tall to a much more reasonable six feet of height.

Bart may have clued Tim in about Godzilla, a friendly kaiju who comes by once in a while to watch over the chickens while they're free ranging. He can't speak, but he can understand people and learn their gestures. As proof, he tilts his head in interest towards Tim, a new face for the reptile, and offers a wave of greeting.)

[mostdangerousbird]

[ How is this fortunate? This is not a fortunate distraction. Impact tremors are never a fortunate distraction.

Tim feels them. Tries to tell himself it's someone with a ton of speakers in the trunk and the bass cranked - cities haven't cornered the market on over-the-top sound systems.

Sees them rippling a nearby puddle. No, that's not a subwoofer bigger than he is. That's. Something else. A lot bigger than he is.

It doesn't take long to spot Godzilla after that, even with perspective issues. Tim gets an eyeful of him at full height. Calculates the rough distance and thereby the height.

Holy giant lizards. He could sink a grappling hook in the space between scales.

Tim reaches for his belt instinctively - no, it's gone. Bruce has it, and his bo, and everything else he would find useful against a kaiju. Even having been warned, he would feel better with a weapon in his hand. He's tempted to call for Kon and Bart, honestly, because this doesn't feel like equal footing.

Shrinking down does make Tim relax, though. He's smaller than Killer Croc. That's very manageable. And he's waving, so, that's ... nice? Tim weakly waves back at the now-miniature kaiju.

This is very normal. ]

[chin_godzilla]

(A perfectly normal meeting between perfectly normal people. Nothing to worry about, right?

With greetings exchanged, Godzilla steps ahead and makes his way over to the chicken coops. Opening them one by one, he greets the chickens with a honk. The hens are unbothered by the fact that the big lizard is coming by to take them out. They're pretty calm, actually, and know to stay relatively close to him while walking around and grazing. Godzilla himself seems proud and pleased; they're healthy and not skipping a beat.

And not nearly as alarmed by Godzilla as Tim, but the lizard doesn't blame him. He's used to that kinda look.

Gathering the hens together, he's prepared to take them out for their walk, but gives Tim a curious look and a nudge of his head. Wanna come along? It won't be exciting at all and that's exactly the point.)

[mostdangerousbird]

[ Tim shakes his head subtly. This is, in fact, a very hard pass. If anything happens, Bart will be sad about the chickens, but he'll survive. Tim may be curious, but his curiosity can be sated from a significant distance.

Ugh, Tim is already feeling guilty about this. Bart's named the chicken. They're his pets. This is exactly why barnyard animals shouldn't be pets. If they get a name, it should be something like "Dinner." This isn't like not trying to save Titus or Krypto. They're chickens, not dogs. It's not worth going into a field with a shrunken kaiju that could grow back and squish Tim before he could even run. ]

beep beep bitch

[eggplanting]

[The conversation with Tim had gone... fine, in the grand scheme of things, even if it left her with more questions than she'd syatyed with. He seemed in reasonably good spirits, not that he couldn't be faking it, especially over text.

Seeing him in person will make it easier to tell exactly how he's doing.

In the interest of fostering good relations, she brings a triple shot espresso from the boujiest café she can find in Central City, keeping it safe on the trip over.

She even knocks on the front door, like an actual polite human being, instead of just letting herself in through the nearest window.]

Your strip-o-gram is here!

[Yes that's obviously what she is.]

[mostdangerousbird]

[ Oh, Tim is doing his damnedest to fake it in person as well. Granted, everyone's been calling him out on the masquerade, but that hasn't stopped him so far. The plan has been refined based on previous failures, not abandoned.

Step 1 is beating the others to the door. Tim wants to leave as little opportunity as possible for any additional discussion about him where he can't hear it. He trusts them with his life - he also knows them, and he's very much trying to avoid the three or four most important people in his life ganging up on him for an intervention.

Tim pulls the door open hurriedly. ]

We don't want any! The Chicken Ranch is a clean establishment.

[eggplanting]

[It takes a small amount of restraint not to immediately drag him into a hug, but she manages, knowing he likely won't appreciate it, never mind that she doesn't want to risk upsetting any injuries.

She does pout, though, even while holding out the coffee as an offering.]

Aw, are you telling me I shaved my legs for nothing?

[mostdangerousbird]

[ Tim does hang back, because this reunion is complicated from where he’s standing. He doesn’t want Steph to be here, but he’s glad she is. The more allies they have, the better their chances at getting home… and she’s a potentially welcome distraction from his babysitters.

And if his eyes flick down towards her legs, it’s reflexive. She brought them up. Tim does catch himself quickly and shift his glance to the offered cup. ]

You bought me coffee? I guess we can make an exception. For the coffee.

[ He holds the door open wide for her to come in, but does grab for the cup. The espresso will not be held hostage to make him talk. ]

The Escape

[louder_than_words]

[It's the middle of the night a few days after Stephanie arrived. There's light cloud cover, meaning that the moon is a haze and the sky is dark.

There's a soft tap tap tap coming from Tim's window. At first glance, nothing is there, just an overview of Bart's farm. Then there's another set of gentle taps against the glass.]

[mostdangerousbird]

[ Tim's in bed, but not asleep, and there isn't supposed to be anyone at his window in the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere. If his name was Juliet, and Romeo wanted to throw some pebbles at his window, fine, but he would know if an idiot boy was going to do that.

He slides out from under the covers on the far side of the bed, dropping softly to the floor. Slips under the bed, grabbing the knife he's borrowed from the kitchen along the way - he keeps it under the bed rather than under the pillow, it's not worrying - and comes out the other side. Tim presses his back to the wall besides the window and keeps himself flattened to the plaster as he stands, letting his back drag upwards.

And waits. ]

[louder_than_words]

[There's one more set of taps, more insistent this time. After that there's nothing.

Then, in the darkest corner of Tim's room, the shadows begin to silently... shift. They warp unnaturally until they start coming together. A shape forms, amorphous at first, before becoming more and more humanoid. Any features are impossible to see but its silhouette is barely visible in the meager light of the moon.

Some sort of pitch-black creature, shorter than Tim, with horns on its head and some sort of... tattered wings dragging behind its back. He can't make out anything more than that.

The thing takes a silent step forward.]

[mostdangerousbird]

[ The difference between the deep grey black of the unlit bedroom and the pure black of the thing is apparent.

Think. Darkness is likely not an advantage. Is light? Indeterminate. Kon and Bart wouldn’t come in like this. Handle it? Warn them? Too dark to be the Joker. Disable and warn.

The thought process is rapid, and Tim’s free hand grabs the nearest thing it can - the alarm clock and whips it at the wall where he knows the light switch is while lunging at the figure. It will all happen at once, getting within strike range, the lights kicking on, and the intended warning cry of “Breach!” to the other occupants if he isn’t silenced. ]

Shortly before both Robins flew the coop

[robintohood]

[The last couple of weeks have been... difficult on many levels. So far, Jason has spent most of his time brooding and plotting in his room. Eventually he did have a couple of conversations with Bart and Kon and even helped out with some of the chores around farm.

But every night it's a struggle to sleep. Every night he hears that damn laugh. Every night his mind goes back to that warehouse.

After talking to Bart and Kon and having somewhat cooled off over being kidnapped to Little Love, Jason finally realizes he should at least attempt to talk to Tim.

Jason knows Tim's hurting. Sure, physically he's fine but Jason knows there are other forms of damage that can linger for a long time.

He trusts that Bart and Kon have been doing their best to support Tim however they can. That trust was also Jason's excuse to just keep focusing on his own problems.

It's a little before midnight when Jason stands in front of Tim's door. He takes a deep breath and slowly exhales, trying to ease his nerves. He should've done this sooner. He's been so wrapped up in his rage, angst, and need for vengeance that he hasn't talked to Tim since they both got here.

For a moment, Jason wonders if a difference would've been made if Dick had somehow found him and talked to him shortly after his resurrection.

Forcing his hand to be steady, he gently knocks on the door]

Tim?

[mostdangerousbird]

[ Starting at the knock, Tim can tell he's still overreacting to the unexpected. He smiles to himself, the sort of grin that's a stressed-out grimace, and lets it wipe the burst of panic away as it smooths out into something neutral.

He musses his own hair as he crosses the room to the door, unlocks and opens the door with a solid faux yawn. It's hours before his bedtime, but Tim wants to start this conversation with a solid escape route planned. ]

Jason?

[ Acting like he's getting ready for bed will excuse the sweatpants and too big t-shirt. He can blame the warm clothes on a disproportionately large air conditioning duct for the size of the room. Too strong of an air current. Something. He'll work it into the conversation as needed. ]

... I haven't been avoiding you.

[ Well - not more than anyone else. ]

[robintohood]

I know.

[Jason tries to keep his tone not too serious. He's not sure where the conversation is going to go or if it'll even last. Best to ease into it]

It was more like the other way around. Didn't help your buddies kidnapping me kinda soured me wanting to be chatty for a while.

[mostdangerousbird]

That... might be my fault, too.

[ Tim steps to the side and lets Jason decide if he wants to come into the room to talk "privately". There's a super- in the area, so actual private conversations might be hard to come by. ]

I know he was streaming. I was -

[ Worried.]

Concerned.