Jonathan took the next day off. It was convenient that Tim hadn't come to the research center when he went there after his therapy session; otherwise, the boy would have bombarded him with questions about the accident.

He knew his colleagues had questions, too, about why he turned up with blood staining his coat and a bunny band-aid on his nose. But none of them asked except Isaac who told him he could have Gladys look after any injury that needed tending to. However, Jonathan politely refused and went to his desk, busying himself with his tasks.

After that tiring day at work, he returned home, avoiding Miguel's kids, who were waiting for him by the stairs. He soaked his coat in water and detergent, knowing the blood stain wouldn't come off easily. But he was too tired to do anything else, so he simply collapsed on the bed, texting Isaac that he would take an off for the next day.

Time seemed to have ticked by in a breeze, with Jonathan still in bed. His stomach grumbled in hunger, but he didn't have the strength to get up and cook something for himself. Living alone had its fair share of disadvantages.

He didn't remember whether he fell asleep or not. His exhausted stupor was deep enough to be confused with sleep, though he didn't have any nightmares for once.

The night sky faded into light when his hunger reached extremes, and quite reluctantly, he got up at last. He had just stepped into the kitchen when the doorbell started ringing repeatedly.

He sighed, his hands resting against the counter and his head dropping low. The bell rang again, so he straightened and trudged out to check.

"Who's there?" He asked, his voice sounding no louder than a tired rasp.

"Timothy."

He lifted the lock and opened the door, seeing Tim and Miguel standing outside. Miguel was at the moment talking to Billy and Mandy, telling them to go inside their apartment.

"Hi, Uncle Jon!" The twins greeted him brightly. As a reflex, Jonathan was about to close the door to escape from the double trouble, but Tim came to his aid.

"Hey, Billy," Tim called out, taking something out of his pocket. "I've got something for you two."

He took the boy aside, knowing Mandy would follow. Jonathan and Miguel watched as Tim gave them some money, patted Billy's back, and then returned, his eyes shining in mischief.

The twins delightfully accepted his offer and vanished down the stairs to go and buy sweets from the nearby confectionery.

"You spoil them," Miguel remarked, his face creasing with a frown. "Next time, don't do anything like that."

"Oh, come on, if I hadn't sent them away, they would have smothered poor Doc," Tim replied, turning to face Jonathan. "And for the time being, only I get to smother him with all my concern."

"No thanks," Jonathan shrugged, leaving the door open for them to step in. "I've been smothered enough to last me a lifetime."

He would have returned to the kitchen, but Miguel made him sit down on the couch.

"Have you had breakfast?" He asked but noticed that the kitchen's bare state indicated he hadn't even had dinner.

"No..."

"I'll fix something up. You look like you need to rest."

"Yeah, you are in quite a state," Tim also added, taking the seat across from him. "What happened?"

"I hate this question."

"Okay, I'll ask another then. Why didn't you tell me you got injured?"

"I didn't think it was necessary," he rested his head back exhaustively, "And I'm not obliged to tell you everything."

"Excuse you?"

"Don't take his words to heart," Miguel remarked, noticing how Tim's expression dropped instantly. "He's hungry; that's why he's in such a mood. As soon as he eats something, he'll be back to normal."

"Interesting choice of words, Miguel," Jonathan mumbled, closing his eyes to avoid seeing them, but the latter heard him clearly enough.

"See, he'll snap at everyone until he gets food," Miguel added, indicating that he was quite familiar with his habits. And, of course, he could be; after all, he had known him for fifteen years.

"Alright, I'll let it slide just this once," Tim remarked, cautiously observing the cut on his nose.

After a while, Jonathan peeled open his eyes to see the boy still focused on him. He looked quite concerned, and it made him feel bad for telling him off earlier. "I'm fine, Timothy. It's not that big of a deal."

"But I warned you to be on your guard."

"I know, it just... Happened. A little reminder that people despise me, and perhaps I should have stayed in Arkham," he mumbled.

Tim launched a thorough explanation in protest, stating about a million reasons why he shouldn't think like that. But all those words were white noise, blending into the background and not really registering in his head. He was lost in thought, replaying the scene of how the man had cornered him and later ran for his life.

Some things never really change.

Jonathan wasn't eager to tell his current companions anything about how he handled the situation.

He had been so close to giving the charge to Scarecrow. One word and all those months of effort would have crumbled.

However, the smell of fresh toast and scrambled eggs roused him out of his spiraling thoughts. Miguel set down the breakfast he just made on the table in front of him.

"Come on, eat up. There's no need to starve yourself," he remarked, then turned to Timothy, who was still in the mood for another hour-long lecture. "And you. Cool yourself down with your poison."

Tim's eyes sparkled in delight when Miguel brought out freshly brewed coffee for the three of them. He quickly took the cup, forgetting that he had been sulking earlier due to Jonathan's cold remark.

"Poison? This is heaven... Thanks, Migs. You're the best!"

While Jonathan was having breakfast, Miguel revealed that Charlize told him about the incident. He wanted to come earlier but couldn't get free from the asylum. When he came at night, Jonathan had gone to bed and didn't open up. So, in the morning, he waited for Tim and then showed up.

Of course, it was Miguel who told Tim about his current predicament.

With the food in his system, Jonathan felt somewhat better. The coffee also woke his numb senses.

Miguel had to leave shortly as his kids were causing a riot next door, and he also had to return to the asylum. On the other hand, Tim declared that he would stay as he didn't just come to check up on Jonathan.

"You didn't come to the labs yesterday," Jonathan remarked at last, knowing he had been too silent and somewhat snappy ever since the two came.

"Yeah, long story," he sighed wearily. All the enthusiasm from consuming coffee seemed to have faded at the memory.

"Let me guess, you got into an argument with someone?"

Tim's eyes widened, "Doc, you don't have to play psychiatrist with me all the time. It's unsettling how you always guess right."

"You are intentionally as readable as a book when you're around me. Otherwise, I don't think you let on what you feel."

"Well, that's because I trust you and don't feel the need to put on a façade."

Tim said that without even missing a beat, Jonathan noticed. The fact that he trusted him even though he didn't trust anyone at all made him feel awkward. He wasn't used to sincerity, so each time he realized someone genuinely cared for him, it flustered him.

"Anyways, I couldn't come yesterday because I nearly got abducted," he came to the topic without further prompting.

Jonathan put down his coffee cup, staring at him with an unfathomable expression, "Abducted...?"

"Yes, but listen to me first. It's not like it seems!" He protested, eager to explain his side of the story. "The issue isn't that I got abducted, it's how Bruce reacted to it."

He raised an eyebrow skeptically, knowing Tim was clearly hiding something. "Did you or did you not get abducted?"

The boy grimaced, "Almost?"

"Specify what exactly you mean by almost."

"Doc, you're investigating me like I was the kidnapper," he folded his arms defiantly.

"I'm worried," the words were out before he could think, and then he had to quickly add, "I mean, I'm worried about the consequences of you in such a situation."

"For me or my kidnappers?" He asked, his eyes sparkling mischievously, "You do know I have a lot up my sleeves."

On cue, he showed the multiple syringes and chemical tubes in his pockets.

"Don't try to change the topic," he warned, "tell me what happened."

Tim explained that he almost got abducted on his way to the research center because he didn't leave with Richard and went on his own. Someone ambushed him, but he escaped after using his tricks. Then he went straight to the nearby coffee shop, from where Jason picked him up a few hours later.

"But you know when I got home, Bruce had a whole sermon prepared for me," his lips pursed together into a petulant frown. "I faced quite a talking down even though I returned safe and sound."

Jonathan listened attentively without saying a word. He subconsciously dissected each word, trying to decipher Tim and Bruce's perspectives.

"So you got into an argument with Mister Wayne."

"Exactly," he folded his arms, leaning back into the couch. "I don't understand why he got so worked up. It's not like I actually got hurt..."

Tim looked at Jonathan as if waiting for him to say something. However, the former psychiatrist was busy thinking.

"Hey, what is it? Why are you not saying anything?"

He paused, "You want my opinion?"

"Of course!"

"I'm unlicensed."

Tim rolled his eyes, "Oh, come on, why do you always have to bring that up? I'm sure if you apply for a renewal, you'll get it back."

"I don't want to talk about my license."

"You started it!"

Jonathan knew bickering with him could last for hours. So he gave in, telling him what he thought about the entire situation, as he was too tired to keep arguing. "Mister Wayne cares for you. That's why he got so worked up."

Tim was about to protest but shut his mouth, seeing that he hadn't finished yet.

"To my knowledge, he has an avoidant attachment style. He cares, but he doesn't show it and ends up pushing people away from him," he resumed. "He probably gave you a lecture because he knows that out of all his children, you're the most likely to get hurt if you get abducted."

"What do you mean to say? That I'm weak?"

"Fragile," he interjected without hesitation. But before Tim could fire up, he resumed explaining. "Also because it's easier to haul you away. All anyone needs is a sack of coffee beans. So he was just warning you to be careful, and he must have been a little rough so that you would pay heed to his words rather than toss them away as a joke."

Tim looked like a goldfish, his mouth opening and then shutting multiple times.

"He must be aware of the fact that you disregard authority until or unless you feel threatened. So he's only treating you according to your nature. And you should treat him according to his."

"Why does it feel like you have an evaluation report hidden somewhere in your journals about every person you've met?" Tim asked, at last, realizing that Jonathan must have evaluated them enough to answer so confidently.

"I don't keep my reports in black and white," he shrugged, "at least not after I was convicted."

"So you have evaluated us!"

"Force of habit," he remarked, slightly amused at Tim's unease, "Why? Are you afraid I'll misuse the information?"

"No, I'm just afraid you know me too well, and I'm sure Bruce would think the same if he found out. He has too much on stake to let you evaluate him closely."

His eyes glazed over in a thoughtful look. "But I do know him well enough... I know he is Batman."

Tim almost spat out the coffee he was drinking, mouth agape as he stared at Jonathan Crane.

"You know I set him on fire once? Pushed him right off the window over there... Sprayed him with my toxin, too. Yet he still chose to help me out... It takes a different kind of lunatic to go to such extremes for people he should despise."

Tim couldn't be certain whether Jonathan was praising Bruce or dissing him. He was quite confused and slightly taken aback at how calm the former psychiatrist was.

"You set him on fire and not Scarecrow?"

He stiffened but answered nevertheless, "Yes. That was all me, I'm afraid. I set him on fire."

Tim's goldfish mode returned as he sat there in shock, processing that new information.

"But the point here is that, even then, he helped me out. Even though I am in no way connected to him or on the list of people he should care for. But as an extension of his concern for you, he became instrumental in helping me get treatment that eventually pulled me out of Arkham."

"Did you know he was Bruce Wayne when you set him on fire?"

He shook his head, "No."

Tim's curiosity seemed to have piqued as he leaned closer, "When did you find out then?

"When he came to Arkham after you were hospitalized. I had never met him out of his vigilante suit back then. But talking to him made me realize that it was him." His eyes glazed over yet again as he spoke, "Batman. Bruce Wayne. The only difference between them is the mask."

Silence engulfed them until Tim spoke up, "That's impressive, Doc. You never fail to surprise me."

"I didn't tell you all this to surprise you," he started gathering the cups and the plates from the table. The breakfast gave him enough energy to return to his routine. "I told you everything so that you understand him as well."

The boy raised an eyebrow skeptically, following him into the kitchen. "And why do you want me to understand him?"

"So that you don't suspect his motives and overreact when he says something for your own benefit," Jonathan replied as if it was the simplest thing ever. "Now stop sulking and go home."

He folded his arms defiantly, "If you wanted me out of here, you could have just said so earlier."

"I don't want you out of here. I want you to acknowledge your mistake and act accordingly," he pointed out, dismissing the thought that, once again, he was acting like a parental figure to Tim.

The resemblance didn't go unnoticed by Tim, who winced, "Yikes, Doc. You talk as if you're my dad."

He chose not to reply to that remark.

"But I didn't mean it as an insult, y'know," Tim added, a smile playing upon his lips. "I meant like a good father figure, someone who looks out for me and makes sure I don't end up doing anything stupid."

"I believe Mister Wayne fulfills that role much better than I do," he mumbled, a slight trace of uncertainty evident in his voice. But he quickly added to mask that insecurity, "Besides, I have told you multiple times that I am not old enough to be your father."

"You're just as old as Bruce, if not more," Tim quipped brightly.

"We were not talking about my age," he interjected.

"You started it! Again!"

Jonathan sighed softly, reaching out to ruffle his head, which took him by alarm, "Timothy, the point is that you shouldn't put yourself in situations that will get you hurt. None of us want that. The only reason Mister Wayne was harsh on you was that he wanted you to be safe. Don't hold that against him."

It was surprising for Tim to see Jonathan take a stand for Bruce and explain gently about his behavior. In other words, it was an improvement that he was using his analytical skills for something positive.

But he appreciated the improvement on his part. That meant the therapy and the medication were working, and Jonathan was indeed on the road to recovery.

Despite Tim's sour mood earlier, that realization brightened his demeanor. Jonathan Crane was proving that he deserved his second chance. That was all the young boy wanted from him.

***