Tim's face was set into a thoughtful look as he took Connor to the supermarket nearby. It seemed as if he was doing some serious thinking so Connor too didn't interrupt him despite the hundreds of questions welling up inside him.

For starters, he couldn't believe that the volatile man they had just met could be Tim's uncle. That clearly was a lie. He also couldn't understand why Tim was putting up with him even though he should have reported to Batman that a criminal had escaped from Arkham.

Nothing made sense to Connor but it seemed Tim knew full well what he was doing.

He had bought a considerable amount of food from the supermarket, that once paying from his own card instead of a borrowed one, and got it all packed into recyclable shopping bags. And then after leaving the supermarket, he began to go back to Drake Manor.

"Tim, do we really have to go back?"

"Yes. He's starving and my rats could do with a little more food too," the boy replied, lifting the latch of the door that led down to the basement, "you can stay outside if you don't want to come."

"Nope. I can't let you get hurt," Connor refused the offer, ready to go back down and punch Scarecrow if he did anything hurtful to Tim again.

Tim's features softened into a smile as he replied, "thanks, buddy. I appreciate the concern."

As they came down to the basement, Crane was sitting in the exact spot he had been in earlier. He looked up seeing them enter but then paid no heed to them as if they weren't even there.

Tim set the bags down close to him, gaining his attention, "I think this will last you a couple of days. I will come to check up on you after."

"My head hurts..."

"I know, here," he fetched out a stash of aspirin from his pocket and handed it to him, "stay true to your promise, okay? You know I can very easily tip you off to the Bat if you don't."

"Why are you not tipping him off already?" Connor asked, unable to understand the situation, "he should be in Arkham."

"Well, because I have an unpaid debt to him and I am just taking care of that," Tim replied, not bothering that his answer was rather cryptic. Turning his gaze back to Crane, he remarked, "although our deal will come off if you go against your word. Understand?"

He groaned in reply, taking the aspirin he had given to him. He was hungry too so he started looking into the bags Tim had brought to find something to eat.

"Deal? What deal?" Connor asked.

Tim sighed softly, knowing he would either have to explain everything from the very beginning to Connor or persuade him into trusting him and just letting the matter rest for the time being. And he decided to choose the latter option.

"Connie, I will tell you everything once we get home. Don't worry about that."

Tim looked back at Crane who had opened up a pack of corn snacks that he took a handful out of and placed it near the burrow for the rats. It reminded Tim of his own days in the basement as he observed him right then.

"Why do you need my notebook?" He asked, at last, letting Crane finish his snacks first.

Crane's eyes flickered towards Connor as if to ask Tim whether he should be listening in on them or not.

But Tim shrugged, "it's fine, I am going to tell him everything either way. He'll stay."

"I had made an antidote to the fear gas myself too," he spoke up, his voice turning much calmer than earlier, "but it worked differently from yours. And I know because you tested it on me, the effects were surprisingly very different from my antidote."

"Okay and...?"

"So I want to see what compositions you used. Even if you don't want to give me your notebook, if you just give me a sample of the antidote, I will figure it out myself."

Tim paused, pondering over his words. Why would Crane be so interested to find out about an antidote he made just because it worked differently? Either Tim's antidote was better than his own or it had some potential to be turned into something deadly.

"I'm sorry, I don't buy it. Either you tell me the truth about why you so badly want to study the antidote I made or just forget about it," Tim remarked plainly, observing the emotionless expression on the man's face.

It seemed as if Crane wasn't bothered by his refusal or he was shutting down his emotions to not get caught out.

"Plus you didn't willingly give me your composition for the fear gas either. I had to painstakingly work out the right quantities on my own," the boy reminded him, "what makes you think I will easily hand my recipe over?"

He shook his head, "you didn't have any qualms sharing your work back in Arkham."

"Yeah because back then you weren't free to experiment and hurt more people," Tim added, "now the situation is different. And I don't trust you."

"I don't trust you either, Timothy," he replied with that unnervingly emotionless look on his face, reminding Tim once again that he was a psychiatrist by profession and knew full well how to keep his expressions guarded.

"Yet you are here in my basement, sans the silly excuse for taking up my offer just because I said it."

"If I go anywhere else, Batman will find me and put me back in Arkham," he reasoned.

"So you came to his son's previous home instead? Real smart, talking of being right under the nose of somebody and getting away with it."

By then Connor was very certain that Tim and Crane knew each other very well as they were both trying to get on the other's nerves. Judging by their expressions, it seemed like neither had an upper hand for the time being.

Crane's left eye twitched but he took in a deep breath, keeping himself composed, "alright, fine. I need your antidote because it was better than the one I had come up with. I need to know why and I need it."

"You need it? As in...?"

"As in I want you to inject me with it again," he replied, eyes fixated on him, "it helped with the voices. Or at least I think it did and I want to verify it."

Tim paused and Connor couldn't contain his surprise either as he asked, "what voices?"

"That is none of your concern," He snapped but then faced Tim again, "if you get my record file from Arkham, you will know exactly what I am talking about."

Tim already had a suspicion about what voices he was mentioning. But it seemed Crane wasn't comfortable talking about it freely in front of Connor so either he would have to visit him alone sometime or do as he had said and find his file from Arkham's records.

"I am not obligated to help you out though, you know that," Tim reminded him, "I am already doing enough by keeping my mouth shut about your escape."

"Timothy, you don't understand. It is urgent... Please..." It looked as if it had physically hurt the man to get that last word out.

"You shouldn't be helping him. This is a bad idea," Connor mumbled but Tim's thoughtful expression was back on his face.

At last he spoke up, "fine, I will think about it. But you're not going to step a foot out of this basement until then."

"Tim, no!"

Tim ignored Connor's protests, "it's alright, Connor, I have everything under control. As for you, Doctor Crane, I will only help you out if you keep up your end of the bargain. No criminal activities under my roof whatsoever and don't kill my rats."

"Understood."

He nodded, gesturing to Connor that they should leave. As they got out of the basement and Tim still had that frown on his face, Connor spoke up, "Tim, you can't possibly be serious..."

"I know... I shouldn't be helping him," he mumbled in reply, looking up and around to make sure there weren't any vigilantes around, "but I don't think he's bluffing. Scarecrow might be but not Doctor Crane."

"They are the same person!"

"Not really. He needs help and somehow he thinks my antidote will be able to help him," he mused, "I would also like to see whether his assumption is true or not."

Connor shook his head, still not convinced, "and if Mister Wayne found out or anyone from your family..."

But Tim turned to look at him, interrupting him mid-sentence, "who's going to tell them? You?"

"Of course not."

"Good. Then everything is settled," he smiled as if nothing absurd had just happened to them and it was a fairly normal thing to encounter a convict in one's basement in Gotham, "come on, let's go back home. It's very late and Alfred must be getting worried."

***