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Even Bats Fall	By : BlueBastard Category: DC Verse Movies > The Dark Knight Views: 6333 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own The Dark Knight or Batman Begins and I do not make a profit from writing this piece of fiction

Chapter List
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"You were right, Alfred." Bruce Wayne lay stretched in his own bed, an IV drip and an odd assortment of medical equipment hooked into him to speed up the healing process, "I should've done this a looong time ago."
"What sir? Actually allowing me to get you medical care as soon as possible? Or ridding yourself of the suit once and for all?" The Englishman asked with a quirk of a brow.
Bruce grinned at his old friend's dry wit, "Both, I guess."
"Indeed." That cracked a smile on the old man's face, though he turned to retrieve Wayne's finished glass as he asked, "But tell me, sir. Was it necessary or wise to provoke the caged monster before your hasty escape?"
"Neither, Alfred. But I was feeling generous. That madman molested me-"
"I *don't* require details, sir."
"-and he deserved it. Besides, it's his own damn fault I can't patrol the streets anymore."
"So, this is just temporary? Throwing down the cape and cowl?" Alfred questioned, focused on the young Master on the bed. Part of him wished it was. But more of him hoped it wasn't. A good deed was a good deed, but the Batman business was far riskier than he could have ever perceived.
What would Bruce's father say?
Then again, Bruce's great-great grandfather DID assist in the whole underground railroad era. It seemed noble aspirations to help the truly unfortunate ran thick through the Wayne bloodline. But that did not mean Alfred would stop worrying.
After all, he only agreed to the whole thing in the first place because he did not want the young Master running off for seven years to the corners of the world. Again.
That, and the way Bruce Wayne's entire soul thrummed vibrant and full of life during the construction stage of the bat character was just... how could Alfred possibly say no?
"No. Yes. I mean, ugh! I don't know, Alfred!" When those confused brown eyes turned up to him, the butler felt his heart wrench. Master Wayne was a young boy once more, that look on his face more than familiar.
Bruce was lost.
"What do you think I should do, Alfred?" The question was barely audible, as if the answer was one to be feared.
Why did men fall?
So they can learn to pick themselves back up again.
But repeating the same expression would not help the poor chap out this time. Alfred could tell. This one was deep. Maybe even too deep for Alfred's frail hands to reach.
"I cannot even *begin* to fathom which path is best for you, Master Bruce. This is a decision I feel I should not influence. Only you can choose." Alfred stated calmly, gazing out the elaborate glass window of the Wayne Manor.
A silence descended then.
Bruce fiddling with his blankets while Alfred stood patiently.
"I know one thing at least," Bruce Wayne murmured, a small smile tracing his lips, "the Joker isn't laughing now."
-o-o-o-
When he came to, the Joker wasn't hysterical. Wasn't upset. Furious. Angry. Didn't go calmly through all the stages of denial. No, not the Joker.
He shot past all of them.
He was *livid*.
Even with the straight jacket, the chains, the cuffs, it had taken twenty guards, five bruised staff, and a good two hours before they had the raging lunatic locked safe and sound in his cell. The only coherent word they could get through all the spittle and gnashing teeth was a name.
Batman.
They did not think the vigilante's escape would affect the clown like it did. But they had prepared just in case. Something that, in hindsight, was an absolute godsend. Who knows what might've gone down otherwise.
Joker rocked back and forth, oblivious to the stark stares and worried glances he aspired.
He had him.
He HAD the Bat RIGHT where he wanted him, all according to plan.
Then he had to- had to *ruin* it! By escaping! And those dreaded words.
Batman didn't want to play. Didn't want the Joker to find him.
The constant mantra of /you won't you won't you won't/ buzzing through his painted head.
He'd show him. Oh he would.
Joker felt one of the buckles loose, grinning madly as his mind whirred to hatch another brilliant escape.
-o-o-o-
"Sir, I think you should see this." Alfred murmured, switching on the television set as Bruce glanced up at him over his toast and crinkled newspaper.
He was comfortable in his plush, royal blue bathrobe, detached from the monitors and IV drips far too early for Alfred's liking, but down in the kitchen all the same. Bruce's brown gaze flickered over to the plasma tv that spanned the wall above the marble counters, the steady buzz of news filling the content silence.
::-reports have been coming in throughout the day, Commissioner! Commissioner Gordon, what do you have to say about the recent escape?-::
The video panned to a shot of the haggard police officer's face, his brow creased deep under his thick frames, ::There is not much to say. The ten armor truck transport was attacked on Joker's short trip from the department to Arkham. His whereabouts at this time are unknown, and no threats have come in. I'm sorry, but that's all I have on the matter.::
Bruce swallowed the hard piece of toast like it was a rock in his throat.
"Well..." He cleared his throat, but just set the newspaper down and stared at the counter top.
"I... just thought you should know, Master Wayne." Alfred spoke softly, turning to head out of the room, "Once again, sir, I would like to inform you that my opinions on the matter have not changed. Though I do advise maybe, a change of scenery...?"
"Thank you Alfred..." Bruce Wayne replied, tone equally quiet.
When the Englishman had stepped out, Bruce quickly raised his head, "Oh, and Alfred-?"
"I know, Master Wayne." The butler came back in the room with two large suitcases, "I have taken the liberty of purchasing myself a ticket to the Bahamas. No supermodels or a whole cast of Russian ballet dancers to cater to on fancy yachts, just me, myself, and some fine English wine."
When the billionaire opened his mouth to protest, Alfred beat him to it by stating, "And no, sir, I did not book a travel arrangement for you yet. I had a feeling you might want to mull this whole affair for a while yourself. Perhaps come to terms with certain things."
The smile that graced the playboy's lips was the first real one in a while. It was disturbing the old man knew him so well, while coming off as incredibly comforting. Would his father have known the same? Probably not. Alfred meant the world to Bruce, and the old man was proving once again, that the feeling was mutual.
"Try not to get swept off your feet to become a servant for some multibillionaire heiress." Bruce grinned playfully, "Remember, they can't possibly pay you what I do."
"Wouldn't dream of it, sir." Alfred smirked. Though they both knew, it was not about the money.
Not at all.
-o-o-o-
Where is he, where is he, where is he, where IS HE????
Joker killed another one of his goons in his current warehouse hideout. Suffice to say the rest of them stayed safely out of the way.
He couldn't take it.
He had thought a couple robberies, a couple killing sprees, and some good old explosions would bring the bat out of hiding. And that was all just in the first two days of his escape. But he was a no show.
No no no no NO!
This was NOT how it's supposed to go.
There was no one to dance with, now that the Bat was making good on his promise. The citizens were a joke. The cops were so easy to read that they were oh-so-predictable.
Even the Mob bosses were afraid of him.
Batman was the only worthy adversary. The only one who could truly catch him, beat his plans. As he had proved time and time again. Even his ace-in-the-hole Harvey Dent had failed him. Even in death, Batman had been able to twist the truth in the public's eye. At his own cost.
That man truly was incorruptible.
Helluva way to take one for the team. For the Gotham residents, Batman had sacrificed his reputation. His livelihood. The ability to show up at night and pound some bad guys without constantly watching his back for cops. Joker growled. He gave it all up. For *them*. THEY didn't deserve him.
Slamming his fist through a window, Joker relished in the pain. Imagined it was from his Bat, even as droplets of blood formed on his knuckles. He turned his clenched hand, allowing the deceptively pretty shards to tinkle onto the cold floor, sprinkling it like so much fairy dust.
He recalled the most recent heist. Blew the south wall of the mob bank to high heavens. Wasn't subtle about it. Didn't make any elaborate plans. Just stood near the entrance, his favorite Dopey clown mask pulled over his painted face, as his men scrambled like dogs to pull off the robbery in the five minutes he allotted them. He had cackled.
Had been SO sure his favorite Bat would show.
But for the seventh time... NOTHING.
Just stupid pigs in blue. When he saw their irritating lights, he just blew the whole damn street up with rigged explosives. He had another small twinge of hope that maybe THIS would bring out the vigilante.
Only to be faced with disappointment to his very core, his shards of hope shriveling and twisting in the raging fire.
Angry once more, he stormed downstairs, where a group of his cronies were busying themselves with a game of poker.
"Going out." He declared to no one in particular.
"You... Uh, want one of us to come with ya boss?" One of the crew, a tough guy that exchanged fearful glances with the others before standing, asked hesitantly. Some shook their head, others shrugged, but most looked pointedly at the ground or the table beneath their quivering chins. The Joker was good to 'em. Paid them more than their fair share of the loot. Didn't even keep much, if any of it, himself. The ones that stayed the longest figured out long ago that the boss did it for the thrill. The pure high that kicked in during the rush and danger and excitement.
But then there were dangerous lows. You did NOT wanna mess with the boss during these times. Sometimes it was not safe to even LOOK at him.
And THIS.... was one of those times.
The green-haired man did not even turn. Didn't stop in his warpath. The speaker just fell, knife protruding his thick skull as the Joker closed the door, a nasal grunt of "No," left behind in the silent room.
Unaware, or uncaring, of the tense warehouse he had left behind, Joker muttered darkly, "...So hard to find good help these days..."
But his mind was elsewhere. His posture sullen and dejected as he stuck gloved hands in purple pockets, hearing the clank of homemade grenades and throwing knives as he jostled them pensively while he walked.
He *could* just give up.
Ignore the Bat ever existed-
NO.
He couldn't even finish the thought, much less follow through with it. Letting out a large gush of air between clenched teeth, the Joker snarled and shouted, throwing fists in the air and kicking at nothing. How could he do this? How could Batman DO THIS TO HIM?!?!
Didn't he realize what the Joker did?
They were meant to be. All the Joker did, everything... was for him. For his special brand of Kevlar attention. That deep voice, those eyes. That righteous anger. Joker shivered in memory of it all. He remembered what it was like to be pinned against the wall by his collar, the Bat flush against him to keep the clown there, and it sent a jolt of excitement through him. Joker audibly moaned. He needed to feel that again.
Needed someone who wasn't afraid.
Needed HIM.
Joker cursed, turning to pick up a garbage lid, throwing it into the nearest window. As the glass shattered beautifully, the tin lid making a resounding thud with a fizzed explosion, the clown realized this was an electronics store. He picked up a rock, about to toss it at the annoying broadcaster on the set when he paused, listening curiously as the camera focused on a handsomely dark-haired man, eyes as sharp as his features, though it only enhanced his rugged good looks. The suit, Joker noted, was a crisp name brand. Armani, or some such expensive thing.
::-just moments away from the multibillionaire Bruce Wayne of Wayne Industries, here on Park Avenue and Sixth Street, from revealing his generous donation to our Gotham City Police Division. Let's take a-::
Joker frowned.
Bruce, huh? Sounds familiar.
No matter, this just could not stand. He chucked the rock at the screen, knifing the owner that rushed him with a shotgun, before turning easily back to the street.
He hailed a cab.
Though... his methods may have been a little unorthodox. If you count standing in the middle of the road, waving around a gun, then shooting the first cab driver you see, a little different. He pulled the cabby out with a grimace and a muttering of, "E-yuck, heh eheh, *that's* gonna stain..." before dumping the body unceremoniously on the curb. But NOW the shopkeeper's dead body had some company. It was a fuckin' party.
He peeled out instantly, cackling a little as he ran over part of the dead cabby's leg that must've been hanging off the curb. Cars honked at him at his intrusion into the road, their tiny brains too single-tracked to notice that Joker had done at least three counts of crime before their pathetic faces. Joker honked back, not enough time to make 'em regret making such bland noises at him. He had a public meeting to make.
Honking once more, Joker started cackling maniacally as he swerved around traffic and sped past red lights to get to his destination.
Couldn't miss it, now could he?
-o-o-o-
Bruce felt the guilt flowing in his veins. It has been two weeks, and crime has run rampant on the streets of Gotham. A particular painted clown doing most of the damage. The mob bosses, knowing the Joker was the probable cause of the Batman's disappearance, were too afraid to cross the man. If he could be called that. His insane, killing tendencies and lack of fear for his own well-being were hard qualities to forget. They were too afraid to even notice Joker wasn't paying them any attention, apart from the occasional robbery at one of their banks. Probably a cry for attention from Bruce's alter ego.
And it almost worked. At so many instances.
Bruce Wayne couldn't even count the number of times he found himself rushing to the hidden elevator, his hand stopping just short of closing the doors and pushing the button to descend. He would stand there for what seemed like hours, before forcing himself out. It had been driving him nuts.
So he had moved out to his pent house in the city. Of course that had its own little hidden alcove as well, but it wasn't habit to rush to the masked thumb scanner that would swing open half the wall in one of the guest bedrooms. It had been slightly easier to stop the constant racing to don the Batsuit. But he made himself step out every morning, to watch the city burn from his pent house view, to see just what kind of decision he was making. Bruce twitched every time he heard police sirens, clenched his teeth when he heard someone yelling for help, and stopped breathing altogether when the Joker's name was said on the news. He was just glad Alfred hadn't stayed to watch the neurotic mess he was slowly becoming.
Then the brilliant idea had come to him. Just because HE couldn't do anything, didn't mean he couldn't donate a good lump of money to the hardworking police force, who *could*. Especially if he entrusted the money to the newly appointed Police Commissioner, Gordon. Untainted. Uncorrupt. The true epitome of a good, honest, and hardworking man of the force. Unfortunately, good honest men wouldn't accept the money without a public spectacle. A small price for Bruce to pay, he supposed, in order for the money to go to the right places.
But he still hated these gatherings. Even before being Batman, he felt the whole debacle leaving him feeling vulnerable and exposed, a bitter taste in his tongue at the fake, incredibly happy persona he had to play off for his image. As if ANYONE was truly happy all the time. Though he supposed people figured a whole lot of money ought to do the trick. If only...
But he felt so... empty.
He couldn't believe he was even *thinking* it, but he was actually MISSING Batman. As if he were a whole other person. And not a part of himself. It felt good knowing he was doing good for the city. And he was doing it now, just... in a less... violent and satisfying manner.
"-man of the hour, Bruce Wayne himself!"
Bruce snapped out of it, nearly missing his cue right before the thunderous applause. Gordon was standing by the podium, turning to beckon the billionaire with a true grin. He had feared the boy he had rescued so many years ago was truly the scandalous playboy he appeared to the world. But his fears were proved false when he met the man, a beating heart as good as that of his father's. Wishing well towards the future of the corrupt city. Batman had been the sledgehammer to crack down the scum of the sewers. And with his forced disappearance, Bruce Wayne was more than capable of filling in those large shoes. Even if it was only in monetary value. Something seriously lacking when funds passed hands under the table.
Wayne answered the grin with a dazzling smile of his own, making more than a few ladies in the crowd swoon. He stood to walk the few steps to the microphone, shaking Gordon's hand with a warm nod, "Commissioner."
"Bruce," Gordon acknowledged, leaning in to whisper, "I knew your father very well, and he would be proud."
Wayne blinked, not expecting that. But the praise filled him with warmth, and he smiled sincerely, "Thank you, Gordon. I could never forget what you've done for me and my family."
They shared a brief smile, different from the ones shared with the crowd. For a small moment, Bruce imagined this is the look that would be passed from father to son, and surprisingly found himself fighting real tears. He hadn't cried since... well, since he was little boy. Lost and alone in the alley. It had been a hollow comfort when Gordon had informed him his parents' murderer was caught.
Chill.
The name still sparked the rage deep within him.
But Gordon's presence was what really got him through the night, just until Alfred came to pick him up. Then he had cried the whole way home and well into the night. Then...
Well, he had not cried a day since.
Gordon stepped down, giving Bruce the spot light, but not before giving him a comforting pat on the shoulder. Wayne blinked away unshed tears, turning his dazzling smile on the crowd. Bruce Wayne, playboy billionaire once more.
"Thank you, thank you very much," He just gushed gratitude, waiting for the crowd to simmer down before continuing, "But really, I don't deserve this honor. I'm just playing my part in helping out the true heroes, our boys in blue!"
He gestured grandly at the police officers behind them, all surprised at the billionaire's inclusion of them in a ceremony for his honor. They shared dumbfounded looks before nodding and smiling in approval as the crowd erupted in more applause. Gordon just smirked, shaking his head. Leave it to a Wayne to share the glory.
Little did he know Wayne was growling on the inside, his inner Bat remembering the beatings he received. Then again, they DID believe he was responsible for those murders...
So technically it had been an indirect reaction to his and Gordon's formula to save Dent's tarnished reputation, and thereby saving the city as well. For if District Attorney Harvey Dent, the city's proclaimed White Knight, had his actions brought to light, what hope would the people of Gotham have left? If they knew the BEST of them had fallen, well...
Bruce strengthened his jaw, he had chosen this. Had chosen this path. And he would follow through. No matter what. Then maybe he could join Alfred and take a trip of his own. Just relax, far far away from Gotham and psychotic clowns. The thought made him smile.
"But really though, they are the true lifeblood of our fair city." Bruce grinned, turning back to the crowd, "I am only continuing my father's work, so many years ago. Of allowing all our citizens the confidence to roam the streets in relative peace, and security!"
He smiled as they began a thunderous applause once more, cheering. He scanned the crowd, making as much eye contact as possible as he made his rounds. These were the people he had been helping to protect. The ones he was now entrusting the police force to continue protecting.
Then his gaze found familiar blue eyes. That damning smile.
And Bruce's blood froze solid in his veins.
His own smile faltered.
No.
What was HE doing here.
Shit. All these people...
Joker paused, cocking his head as he realized the billionaire caught his gaze. Recognized him, did he? He began cackling, as he realized the suave man did indeed recognize him. Out of ALL these rodents, too. Heh eheh heh.
Interesting...
And here he thought the man to be clueless to everything around him. He certainly seemed the type. Then again, all THIS... well, he didn't seem the type to give all his money away on grand schemes that helped the greater *good*. Ye-uck. The word sent a revolting taste to the back of Joker's throat. He almost gagged. Really. What a waste of energy!
Realizing he was caught, the clown shrugged and started sauntering up through the crowd. The grin on his face widened as he saw the barest flicker of panic light up those brown eyes, the man on the stage tensing. But it was gone in a matter of seconds, the Billionaire showing spine he didn't realize the man could have.
"But l-let's get on to the real reason this ceremony is being held." Bruce stumbled, tearing his gaze away, as much as instinct screamed at him NOT to. He attempted to speed up the process. Whatever the Joker had planned, whatever reason he was there, it couldn't be good. He waved at the guy holding the obscenely large billboard copy of the check, gesturing towards Gordon as he proclaimed, "A check, for Gotham's finest, of one million dollars!"
Gordon looked shocked, as did the rest of the force. The crowd was silent in awe, before erupting once more in applause. A few whistles thrown in this time.
Bruce fronted a fake smile, calming the crowd a little before saying, "All right, that's it folks!"
The clapping faltered, the crowd unsure of the playboy's meaning.
"No more to see here, we should all just head home." Bruce tried again, desperately wanting to make the shooing motion, though he doubted that would help anything at this point. He had lost track of the Joker. This was not good.
When Gordon shot him a confused look, Bruce mouthed the word 'Joker'.
But it was too late.
Someone was still clapping. And loudly at that. Bruce Wayne grimaced as he turned around, that certain someone climbing the raised platform before the police could react.
Everything happened at once.
The crowd gasped. The Commissioner cursed. Bruce frowned. And the Joker smiled widely.
"Atata ta ta." Joker tsked, waving his jacket open at the bombs within, even as some of the cops drew their weapons. It was attached loosely to a string on his thumb, which he waved menacingly beside him. Bruce got the feeling this was not the first time the painted menace pulled this kind of gag. Only the Joker would use a backup plan that involved his own death. The only problem was, it probably worked every time for the lunatic.
Otherwise he wouldn't be standing there.
Bruce Wayne groaned inwardly. This was the LAST person in the entire world that he wanted to see right now. Or ever, for that fact. The inner Bat wanted to growl the man's name, barrel into the other, and pound his face in. But there were so many witnesses, and he was sure it would tip the Joker off as well. Wait, could the Joker know? No... otherwise he would've done something much more drastic. And insane.
Because holding the whole crowd of hundreds, the forefront of the police force, and a billionaire at bomb point was not insane enough. Not for the Joker. He would be dancing in his victory.
No.
The Joker didn't know.
And if Bruce played his cards right, he never would.
The playboy slowly edged away, trying to step out of the middle ground. The podium that sat between the cops and the green-haired lunatic. It was something Bruce Wayne would do, even as Batman raged to stay and fight. He could take the clown! Even without the Kevlar.
But the painted menace noticed.
"And where do you think *you're* going...?" Joker demanded as if there was a hidden joke in his phrase, skipping forward to stand between Bruce and the officers he had tried to step behind. It was just the sort of move a man with lots of money, but no spine or muscle would do. But Joker's eyes narrowed. He was not buying it, "...Bruce, was it...?"
Batman stiffened at the casual use of his name, his original plan -to act cowed and afraid- overpowered by his anger, "Actually, it's *Wayne*."
Joker smiled.
THAT'S more like it. *There's* the backbone he had sniffed a mile away. He didn't know WHY the Billionaire was trying to play scared shitless with him. The Joker invented the game. Relished in it. Knew the star players when he saw 'em. And this Bruce Wayne was no star.
"I prefer *Bruce*..." Joker grinned, pushing his green locks out of the way to better see the irritated brunette's expression. Or was he black-haired? Joker never could tell. Either way, it paid off to see the deep frown burrow into those pristine features. The man truly was sculpted to perfection. From his styled back hair and perfect teeth, to his broad shoulders and tapered waist, down to his brand-spankin' new glossy shoes. But the WAY he held himself. So sure, so just barely in check.
There was just something about him...
Joker felt compelled to get closer, and so he did. Drawing a startled hiss from the man, the billionaire tensed as he snarled, "What do you want, Joker?"
And again it sparked at something inside, but Joker could not grasp the nagging familiarity for the life of him. He had heard this man's name here and there, crashed a few of his parties, few of his warehouses. But he had never actually *met* the billionaire.
So why...?
At the vexed look on that painted face, Bruce knew he was pushing it. He needed to calm down before he started using his gravelly Batman voice. THEN the game would be up for sure. Though Bruce could've sworn he quit the night and dagger stuff so he would NOT have to play these games.
"Look, I'm sure whatever you want can be handled just fine between you and the police..." Bruce Wayne said calmly, rationally, taking a few steps backwards. Since his route to the wall of officers was cut off, he could just step down into the crowd. The less time spent in the maniac's presence, the better.
But he didn't expect the snarled, "No!" or the hand snatching his forearm in a vice-like grip. Clearly, Batman leaving had left the painted menace with some... departure issues...
The touch had raised the hairs beneath Bruce's expensive collar, his trapped arm thrumming as his right twitched, barely stopping his body from the automatic twist and punch response. The touch brought back a flood of memories. Him writhing in the cell under the skilled ministrations of a certain painted menace. It brought a heat to his cheeks. But he played it off as anger, breathing to calm himself. As he stared at the gloved hand, then raised his head slowly to level the Joker with a questioning gaze, he could see a morbid fascination in the blue gaze, swallowed by the inky pool of grease paint.
"You *are*... Interesting..." Joker mulled aloud, as though examining an intricate puzzle. One he was dead set on solving. The smile curled slowly as the Joker sneered at the cowed Police Officers behind him, "More so than these squealing pigs in blue."
Bruce grimaced, tugging at his arm, only to find it trapped in a grip like steel. The Joker always was stronger than he looked. Unfortunately.
Joker's attention snapped back, peering into those hardened brown eyes, "So eager to get away, are we, *Brucy*?"
"No," Wayne retorted a little too quickly. Something that made that devilish grin widen. Clearing his throat at the tightness that constricted it, Bruce added more calmly, though with a hint of his underlying anger, "I just don't particularly enjoy holding hands until the second date. Maybe a drink or two. We are *barely* even acquainted."
Joker stepped closer, enjoying how the tense man didn't even flinch. He despised humanity to its very core. He didn't even LIKE the goons that bent to his every whim and died like so much obedient sheep. *This* man though... this Bruce Wayne... he was quite an, well, an anomaly. He whispered seductively, drunk on the fierce attention he was inspiring, "I could change that..."
That brown gaze solidified, harder than the cracked concrete of Gotham's unforgiving pavement, "*I'd* rather NOT..."
That wrenched a bout of laughter from the clown, as he dragged his unwilling captive to the microphone. Bruce started, having forgotten they were not alone. There was something about the Joker that made everything else just... fade into the background. The Joker licked his lips, tearing his gaze from the surprised billionaire to address the crowd, "People of Gotham, it's SO nice to see you all here today."
They were all like mesmerized lambs to the slaughter, unable to move. Unable to speak.
"I realize my surprise visit was not on the agenda today, but aren't you all asking yourselves? Just why is old Brucy here willing to give so much of his hard earned cash?" That painted face turned to the glowering playboy beside him, his own gaze narrowing, "Is there something he's not, erm, *telling* us? Do you happen to know something we do not, *Bruce* Wayne?"
"I don't know what-"
"Like where the Batman is?" Joker interrupted, noticing the billionaire visibly tense further under his close scrutiny, "You've got connections, you *must* KNOW *something*..."
The slight fear that he was discovered was negated by the Joker's last question. Reigning in his relief, Bruce said, "I don't know what makes you think I would be connected to that scum-"
It was like pulling a trigger, the Joker blowing his lid like Mount Everest, hissing loudly, "HE. IS *NOT*. SCUM!!!"
But Bruce was expecting this reaction. Was hoping for it actually, as he took the fraction of inattention at the grip, to grab the string to the Joker's thumb. In a move too quick to follow, Bruce had disarmed the string, yanked the clown out of his explosively lined jacket, and tossed it aside. Before the Joker could utilize his rage, Wayne had the man's face colliding against the floor, arms twisted behind him as Bruce pinned him in place with a hard knee to his back.
"Self defense class." Bruce explained simply, lowering his head to hiss into the surprised clown's ear, "You should think about taking it. And maybe consider going to therapy while you're at it. This obsession you have with the Bat character can't be healthy."
But the Joker wasn't shaking with rage. He was laughing. Rolling around on the floor as he cackled, "Got a little fight in you, do you? I LIKE that..."
It was a good thing the painted face was pressed into the floor, otherwise he would have seen the color drain from the billionaire's face. He could not be serious. Why was it that anything Bruce did, as billionaire or vigilante, seemed to catch the green-haired menace's attention?
As the cops rushed in to assist, Bruce gladly stepped aside, visibly shaken. He was barely able to compose himself before the cops forced the man to his feet, arms and legs cuffed. Joker turned instantly to the billionaire, wicked gleam in his eye as he snarled, "I think I *will* take you up on that second date, Brucy..."
"Don't count on it, Joker." Bruce Wayne frowned, dusting off his sleeves in an attempt to straighten his frazzled nerves. He seriously regretted his poor choice of words. But the man merely cackled in response, blue gaze eyeing him intensely. Bruce swallowed the shiver that wanted to run down his spine, shooting a burning glare in the other man's direction, "They don't give parol in the place you're headed to."
"Heh eheh, erm, well that's true Brucy boy, but I, uh, I can make time for you..." A slow smile unfurled, the painted grin stretching widely across the white expanse. The messy application always tugged at the perfectionist in Bruce Wayne, but it gave off the aura he was sure the Joker was looking for. Insane. Crazy. And not someone to be messed with.
So when the Joker made that statement, Bruce felt something clench tightly around his heart. Fear, maybe? But he was NOT afraid of the Joker. He just knew the man well enough to know he did not make idle threats or false promises. A good quality in anyone but the psychotic clown. Strangling whatever nervous feeling he had and crushing it under his expensive soles, Wayne stepped closer to the Joker, glad for the screen of police officers blocking them from view of the crowd and cameras.
"*Don't* waste your time, clown." Bruce snarled, barely fighting the clench of his vocals that would dip his tone in Batman's deeper rasped timbre. He was furious. He hated when Joker played these kind of games with him. Hated how the man could get under his skin.
"Don't worry, I *won't*..." And from the wicked gleam in those azure orbs, he could see the Joker was enjoying his frustration a little too much. Joker licked his lips, liking the way those brown eyes flickered to the flash of pink almost unconsciously. As if drawn to it the same way the Joker was mesmerized by him. Black inkiness swallowed his eyes as he blinked long, and slow. He loved the feel of that burning gaze on his person. Like a warm blanket after weeks out in the cold. He shivered.
Fuck he needed more.
Blue eyes flashed open. Bruce tensed as they locked on him, a feral sound wrenched from that painted throat. With a strength unmatched, the Joker wrenched free from the police holding him, though he couldn't possibly go far with those shackles. Unfortunately for Batman, the clown did not have to go far at all, with him standing so close.
Bruce Wayne hit the ground with a forced grunt, the back of his head knocking on the platform. But his more immediate concern was the warm body that landed right on top of him, cuffed arms and legs giving no room but to have their positions more than intimate. Legs between legs, chests pressed together. That smirking, painted face filled up his entire vision, green curls brushing his cheek bones. Wayne felt the beginnings of full force panic hit him, but he merely began to growl, "Wha-"
Then the Joker's teeth clanked against his at the sudden force, before the scarred lips swallowed his whole. Bruce's heart stopped, his breath caught up in his throat. The Joker rolled sensually, experimentally, and Bruce Wayne gave a strangled whimper at the feel of the clown's hardness pressing in between his most intimate of places. The Joker snarled delightfully, nipping the billionaire's bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.
That's what stoked the fire in Bruce, making him aware of his surroundings and of the crazed man currently taking advantage of the situation. Batman's strength heaved his arms upwards, shoving the Joker off of him the same moment his fist collided angrily with that painted face. The Joker snorted gleefully as Bruce followed the man down, straddling him as he gripped the man's vest with one fist, forcing him to sit up slightly as the other hovered, ready to strike, "Sick bastard..." Bruce's growl was guttural. Primal.
Furious.
If Joker wasn't in such nirvana right now, he would have recognized the voice for who it was. In the meantime, he merely cackled, looking forward to the next punch as he murmured, "Aw, I didn't come up with a pet name for YOU yet, Brucy..."
Bruce snarled unintelligibly, hitting the Joker once more square in the jaw before allowing the officers to pull him away. Chest heaving, he glared at the maniac as they dragged the Joker to his feet, the other cops letting go of the billionaire once they realized Wayne had himself under control.
The blood trickling down Joker's split lip matched the one bitten on Bruce's. While it made the Joker grin, it only made Bruce Wayne frown more. The air crackled with the intensity between them.
The Comissioner stepped in and the moment was broken. Blue eyes flickered to the officer, before back at Bruce. That tongue snaked out to lick his bloodied lip, "See you soon, Brucy..."
Bruce Wayne, not trusting his voice, merely glared holes into the other, jaw clenched hard enough to ache.
"Take him away." Gordon directed, shaking his head as the menace kicked his feet in the air, laughing loudly as they dragged him away. He stepped up to the Billionaire, concern in his tone as he asked, "Are you all right?"
Bruce put his game face on, letting some of his jumbled nerves show through purposefully as he replied a little shakily, "Yea... Yea I'm fine, Commissioner. Why do you think I'm investing my money in your department? To keep men like HIM off the streets."
Gordon gave into the little laugh Bruce started, scratching the back of his head as he muttered sheepishly, "You seem to have done most of the work, Bruce."
"Chalk it up to paranoid defense classes, and me chipping in to a community effort." Bruce smiled, "There were people's lives at stake."
Gordon nodded in approval, turning as both watched the mad man being forced into a patrol car. Joker shot another, shiver-inducing glance Bruce's way.
Bruce's brown eyes narrowed.
But inside, his heart pounded loudly. That was the second time the menace forced himself on him. And if Bruce had any say in it, it would be the last time.
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Even Bats Fall