The extensive laboratory at Seton Hall University's Department of Toxicology should have been empty after eight in the night. 

However, it was secretly occupied by a young man with messy curls put up in a bun, a lab coat hanging over his tall but lean frame, and thick round spectacles resting on his nose.

Tim hunched over the workbench, his face illuminated by the dim lights of the bulbs he had carefully set up over his table. The light was barely enough for him to continue working, but he had to take that precaution as he knew sometimes the guards took a late night round, and he couldn't afford to be found outside his dorm after curfew.

He carefully measured a white crystalline substance in a petri dish and ground it into an even finer powder. His face was covered with a mask, and his hands were concealed in white gloves.

The usually bustling university halls were silent at night, save for the occasional muffled echo of distant footsteps. Tim found a strange sense of solace in the solitude, the weight of the world fading away as he immersed himself in his research.

At last, he straightened, and his spine snapped back in place. He suppressed a slight wince of discomfort and resumed working, eyes skimming over the notebook that held the research findings on his thesis topic.

He paused as his bony hand reached for the flask of concentrated sulfuric acid, knowing that if he messed up, he would have to face severe consequences.

So, before doing anything risky, he decided to call Jonathan and ask his opinion.

He dialed the number and waited, checking that his apparatus was securely kept and there was no risk of chemicals spilling over.

Finally, Jonathan picked up, but Tim couldn't register his voice coming through the noise. It seemed he was surrounded by a lot of people, which in itself was unexpected.

"Why is it so noisy? Where are you?" Tim asked, balancing the phone between his cheek and shoulder.

At first, the voice was incoherent, but then Jonathan spoke louder, "I'm at a birthday party."

"Really, at Miguel's place? Because I heard Billy and Mandy squealing in the background. Explains all this noise though."

"No, at Doctor Fischer's place but Miguel's spawns were invited too."

He smiled, imagining Jonathan all flustered in the chaotic company, "Aw cute, wish her a very happy birthday from me."

"It's not her birthday."

"Then? Cuz it can't be yours even though that would have been even more adorable... Migs' family and Doctor Fischer throwing you a birthday party."

Tim was hundred percent sure that he must have gotten red in the face at that implication. The slight pause as the elder man recollected his thoughts confirmed it.

"No, it's her daughter Gabriella's birthday. Right now they're wrestling with something they call a piñata."

He chuckled, "Adorable."

There was a momentary silence on the other end of the line then an uproar of children cheering and then silence again.

"They're being wild, I had to step out," Jonathan's voice sounded at last, a bit exasperated from all the commotion he left behind. "So why did you call?"

"Yeah, um, I was wondering what would happen if I add thermally decomposed sulfuric acid to exactly 500 milligrams of powdered ketamine?"

A pause and then a somewhat frantic question followed shortly after. "Timothy, what the hell are you doing?"

"I'm researching for my thesis," he replied vaguely.

"Theoretically, or...?"

"I'm in a lab, Doc, and I'm mixing chemicals as we speak. Hope that answers your question."

"Someday you'll give me a heart attack!" Jonathan swore under his breath but then regained composure. "Walk me through what you've done so far. I can't just answer a question without knowing its premise."

"Kinda short on time here but well, I can summarize. So I was researching on why certain drugs were banned and found a very interesting connection."

Jonathan did not like the direction their conversation was headed in but did not interrupt, letting him finish.

"Most of the drugs that have ever really shown potential in altering brain chemistry are unstable. Volatile, in other words. Somehow stimulating the neurons to react one way or another once introduced to the subject," Tim resumed eagerly, his voice slightly hushed but excited nevertheless. "The more volatile the drug, the higher the results. It's true for the fear gas, too, in a sense... But let's not talk about that."

Of course, he did not want to talk about that. "Timothy, I'm concerned..."

"No, no, just hear me out. So forget the fear toxin but ketamine, y'know, almost banned for its hallucinogenic effects... Yet still having extreme potential to be explored as a therapeutic agent. So I was wondering, if we were to destabilize ketamine by breaking its formula with... Say nascent oxygen or some other reactive element... It might produce a very potent drug that could effectively stimulate neurons and introduce states that could counter psychosis."

Tim was reeling like a cassette in a player on fast forward mode. But the former psychiatrist had been silent for a long time, his throat dried up and his body stiff in anticipation.

"And just imagine, if this hypothesis is correct, then we could have a shot at finding the cure for neurodevelopmental diseases like schizophrenia even... Genius, isn't it?"

Jonathan sighed softly, shaking his head as he spoke at last, "In a sense, yes... But you'll finish your career before it has even started and confiscate my license as a psychopharmacologist too."

"What, no, that's not what I meant!"

He took in a deep breath, considering how to explain it to the overenthusiastic boy. "Timothy, this isn't safe for a college thesis. There's a difference between researching on your own and researching under an institution."

"But you've worked with hallucinogens, too, and..."

"And look where that got me," he interrupted him in a firm tone. "I'll not let you repeat the mistakes I made. This is dangerous and you should stop before it goes further. You must."

"But, Doc..."

"No buts. Even if you don't want to change your thesis topic at this stage, at least modify it to not be this... Explosive." Tim's silence indicated that he was disappointed. So Jonathan added to somewhat cheer him up and not let him feel that dejected. "When you come to Gotham, we can sit together and work this out."

The boy sighed, his lips pursed into a thoughtful little pout. "Alright since you insist. I'll wrap this up then..."

"And don't add sulfuric acid to powered ketamine. Your apparatus will explode and you'll have to pay a fine for damage to lab property," he warned, fully aware that Tim had a tendency to still go forth with his chemical experiments even if he was prohibited.

The enthusiasm was near zero in his voice by that point. "Ah... Right, thanks for the heads up. It's a good thing I didn't add it yet... Don't worry, I won't. I have put the jar back."

"Good." He was about to hang up but Jonathan stopped him at the last moment, "Wait. Before you go, I have to tell you something."

"Oh... What is it?"

"I am sure you will do great things, Timothy," his voice was warm and Tim was genuinely surprised to hear the full trust and confidence Jonathan's words held for him. "I am never doubtful of this fact. But with every genius idea, there comes a hell lot of responsibility. I trust that you will use your skills and knowledge in the best possible way and not end up taking a route that could endanger you and the people around you."

He was silent as he listened to him, blanking out on how to respond. He knew Jonathan cared for him but having it expressed like that was still overwhelming.

"Doc... Thank you," he breathed at last, that weight of disappointment lifting off his shoulders as a happy feeling settled in his heart. "I am so glad I have you to guide me and keep me out of trouble."

There was silence on the other end for some time until Jonathan mumbled, "Take care, good night."

His voice was heavy and Tim smiled, knowing it would be just as overwhelming for him to hear that as his concern and solid trust had been for him. 

"Sure thing. Good night."

***