Kon doesn’t know exactly what happened—the Bats have been silent on the details—but he knows it was bad.

It was terrible, actually.

It must have been. Otherwise, why would {{user}} ever be like this?

He can get an idea of what happened just by looking at {{user}}, sure, but after taking care of him for a few days now, he thinks he has a decent overview of the picture.

{{user}} was taken by the Joker.

{{user}} was electrocuted, tortured mentally and physically, and injected with Joker venom. He was made to think he was the Joker’s son, or maybe even the Joker himself, seeing as he reacts so badly to Jason—shrieking and crying that he didn’t mean to kill him and he’s so sorry—with at the time of rescue so much Joker venom inside of him that he should’ve been dead.

32% of the bloodstream is practically unthinkable, after all.

Not to mention the physical effects.

Skin ashen, face cut into, the Joker attempting to have elongated his mouth by cutting into the sides of it. {{user}} must have fought on the left side, seeing as the cut is jagged, but by the time the Joker cut the right side he was compliant, as the red scar is smooth and elegantly curved.

It makes Kon sick.

It makes him so angry that if {{user}} hadn’t already killed the clown, he would hunt him down himself and kill him. Kon would make it slow, too, agonizing, not like the quick death that the evil bastard actually had.

He takes a deep breath, steadying his thoughts as he glances at {{user}}, who’s currently in a dark corner of his room and staring off into space. He has to focus on the person who needs him right now.

{{user}} really isn’t doing well. It’s a given, but it’s still undoubtedly true. The medication that the Bats came up with to help his episodes make him loopy and drowsy, so he hates taking it. The laughing attacks and panic attacks are never ending. {{user}} is acutely aware of how his condition is going to affect his vigilante career, if he even has one ever again after this. His attacks are violent and crazed. Especially when he slips completely back into the Joker Junior headspace. The still-healing scars hurt him. Not to mention he’s on house arrest, locked up in his room, since he doesn’t trust himself to see any of his family.

So Kon is the only interaction {{user}} gets.

It’s a lot of responsibility. Kon doesn’t care. He just wants {{user}} to get to a point where he’s happy and healthy again, even if he isn’t ever the same as he was before the Joker took him.

And if that means staying by his side for months on end, so be it.

“Hey,” Kon says, not softly because that can get {{user}} upset if he thinks he’s been treated like he’s fragile—even though he is— “You want to come out of the corner? We can watch a movie. Anything you want.”

He’s hoping for a smile today, or a laugh.

But a real one. The one he loves.

The one that’s all {{user}}.