Bats and Spooks
The last thing I heard was you whispering goodbye and then I heard you flatline.
Characters owned by DC and Marvel
This is pretty much unattached to the other Brooklyn stories, the attachment is only ever so extremely slight, but I wanted to write it anyway. Because it's Halloween! Perfect time for creepy!
The stench attached itself to the walls of her senses to incapacitate her ability to breathe freely. It was so strong she could taste the metal on her tongue, but perhaps the taste was from the split in her lips as well. The smell is too familiar, something that has hung onto her for well over half her life. It makes her sick, makes her want to curl into a ball and never unwind again. Nothing was ever capable of washing it way. No matter how strong or expensive the perfume she splashed on her skin, under it she could always still find the rot of death.
Alfred assured her over and over again that there was no blood left on her hands, he begged and pleaded with her to come out of the shower. It took weeks before she stopped asking him if he could smell it too, smell the blood and death. It followed her forever even if she finally stopped bringing it up. The smell got worse over the years, particularly after she became the Bat. Blood was all a part of her world after that.
People died every day and someone had to be around it in order to make it stop. Someone had to offer justice to the dead even though nothing else could be offered. Getting criminals off the street meant that there would be less death. One of her teachers long ago, a master in the arts of battle, told her to embrace death because death loomed over everyone and the only way to live was to look upon it as the great equalizer of men. Make it part of you, he told her. Perhaps he could not have known that death had gotten under her skin when she was only a child, curled over the bodies of her parents. She stopped fearing death that night and instead both envied those it touched and hated it for its theft.
All was dark around her though, the aroma of death so strong she could inhale nothing else. It was nearly enough to make that little part of her that wanted to live quiver. More than that it made her scream for what she knew had been ripped from her hands once again. Loss was another thing that had taken root under her skin, parasitic and permanent. She felt the sharp ripping claws of grief, the tear of her soul that signified pieces of her heart being cleaved away. Brooke screamed around the shards of glass in her throat for she understood acutely that there was nothing more she could do. Once death took hold it would pull until everything unraveled and broke.
"NO!" She shrieked, denying it even to herself, fisting broken fingers into her blood damp hair, "Don't leave me!"
The sobs took hold, wracked from her deadened body and soul like dark waves of the ocean. Feeling was seeping out of her very slowly, everything turning dead even as the grief destroyed what was left of her shattered remains. She was always the only one left, left alone to weather an existence of misery. She never asked to be left alive if it meant the gaping mouth of loss would be a slowly building void that swallowed her. Brooke never wanted to be the only one left. It was a misery often too great to endure but it would be worse now, all-consuming.
There was so much blood.
Brooklyn's entire body jerked when lips brushed softly at her ear and she jolted into a sitting position on the bed, flinging her arms out defensively. There was no rush of adrenaline, the lack of which she attributed to her general lifestyle. Nothing really got her heart pumping anymore, she was too used to the rush of diving off buildings or into things most people would die from.
Joker jumped away, hardly seeming to make an effort, not even really touching the ground while he simpered at her, "Did I startle you, darling?"
Yes, actually, but waking up to that white face, toxic green eyes, and an impossible smile would be a rude awakening for anyone. Wayne Manor was not intended for the likes of the clown with its tasteful decor, her dark room and muted taste in color took affront to him every day. Nothing to be done about it though. His garish charm was a fixture at this point, like a gift no one ever asked for but could not get rid of because the relative that gave it visited too often.
She licked her dry lips, blinking dazedly to try to orient her mind, "What are you doing?"
With a forceful shove, she removed the pillows from either side of her, sending one of them flying at him. He annoyingly did not bother to dodge even though they both knew it would do no damage regardless. It would have been satisfying to make him react on reflex. He never feared her anyway though.
Rolling forward with a scowl, she pulled her pajama-clad knees up to her chest. She dared not sleep in anything revealing while he was around so conservative and matching it had become. For good measure, she shoved another pillow off the side of the bed. One of her more odd quirks recently had been the addition of bracketing herself in pillows the way she had when she was significantly younger. If she went to sleep as Brooke, the pillows had to be there but if she fell asleep in her Bat costume she felt no need to do that. She could not make sense of herself sometimes lately.
"Waking you from an unpleasant dream, I would say." His smile turned almost tender, as much as she thought that Glasgow smile could be, "You know I'm always there for you, Batsy... always."
She wrinkled her nose at him, "We're linked. Right, you've said that before." Tossing her legs over the opposite side of the bed, she pushed her bare feet into the plush carpet, unsure where her slippers were when the floor was littered in fluffy pillows.
"But we really are..." he whispered like he did not expect her to hear. There were times she could swear he was actually sad but she knew it was her imagination.
At times, though, fleeting moments, he seemed almost innocent, nearly gentle. Sometimes responding the only way she knew how to deal with him, harsh and unyielding, felt like kicking a puppy. He had the potential to be more than a monster, maybe even a decent human being if not for the sadistic bent of derangement. Like the time she found him in the cave.
It had been a surreal moment to see Joker stood at the very apex of the cave like some sort of beacon, glowing, or seeming to. Small bats draped and hung on his person, a few flying in lazy circles around him as if he called to them and they answered. They chattered softly, relaxedly, echoed by the ones above. None of them sounded distressed in the slightest. One very small one was cradled in his palm, being held to his chest as he watched the young thing as if the bat held the answers to the universe. She could do nothing but stare for a long while but of course, he was the one to speak.
"They've been telling me so much about you, Bats..." His voice was quiet, almost like the bat's chatter. "Bruce, here, especially. He's very observant for a young little guy."
Bruce was it? Had she told him that her parents had been intending to name her that had she been a boy? She was not exactly sure what she might have told him in some delirious moment, even of random little know facts about her history. Then again, it might have been coincidental.
"I suppose they would know best," She agreed, playing alone, keeping her voice quiet, "They see me more than anyone else."
Green jade eyes looked up at her a moment before he returned to his study.
"You know, it's never been humans that were the innocents. Humans, mankind is not innocent. Humans all have a rotten core, a bent toward evil that they either fight against or embrace with abandon. That evil core is why anyone, even those considered good, can be brought to do horrible things." He ran a finger over the tiny snout, "The real innocents are the things we call monsters. Like these little guys, their actually innocent." He motioned to the bats.
"I'm not sure if I'm hearing wisdom, something profound... or if we're both just crazy," Brooke muttered as she came closer.
Joker laughed and it was only then that the bats took flight back to the safety of the rocks. When she looked into his eyes, he looked back with what must have been the fondest look she had ever seen. "Maybe it's both?"
She always wondered how he managed to call them to him. How exactly he charmed the bats into not only perching on him but letting him hold them. Animals were generally better at understanding danger than that. They sensed dangerous people and responded by staying far away. She wondered what that said about her and the fact that they had never come close to her in all the years they had been around her. Additionally, later on, she was never sure if it really happened or if it had been nothing but a dream.
She padded into the bathroom, thoughtlessly flicking on the light only to hiss in distaste at the brightness. The meager light that filtered through the heavy curtains on her windows typically left her unprepared for the harsh reality of even the artificial light. The soft light from the moon was so much easier to endure than the glaring and rude force of other lights.
Squinting, she shuffled to the sink and began brushing her teeth. She looked like a wild woman, hair going in all directions from a night of tossing and turning. Good thing the tabloids could not see her looking like this or her reputation as a heartthrob would take a significant hit. Joker drifted in behind her, watching her like it was some kind of pay-per-view movie. She was frequently shocked at herself and the way she allowed him to get so close to her without fearing for her life.
The thing was, she did trust him in the most bizarre way possible. It was because she was that Bat that she knew he would never kill her. He found her entirely interesting and she understood that he honestly did think they shared a connection, that they were the only two like beings in the world. Just watching her go about a normal day seemed to enthrall him. Most often she found him a bit too enamored with things that were absolutely common, though, to an extent, she envied him that simpleness of those things. If she ignored who he really was he was a nearly charming companion so long as he behaved... and did not set about amusing himself by tipping over expensive and breakable things in her home. That time he threw her dinnerware at her had been particularly unamusing on multiple levels, especially since she was the one that had to clean it all up.
Having the Joker around had taken some getting used to but there was no way whatsoever to get rid of him. Threats were ineffectual and ignoring him totally lead to broken things. He had decided to invade her space and he refused to be moved. With Alfred away in England and Dick and Jason studying overseas there was significantly less risk to anyone, her included. Having him camped in her bedroom might be a significant discomfort but at least she rarely had to wonder where he was. There was less trouble he could cause so long as she knew exactly what he was up to.
"Look, Joker, I really would-" The bedroom window flew open in a sudden burst, curtains billowing wildly. Her whole body tensed, eyes widening, head snapping to look for the cause.
"Made you jump!" Joker sang theatrically at her, looking entirely more pleased than anyone ever should with a grin that size.
"Did not," she insisted as maturely as possible.
With a characteristic sway in her steps, Brooke waltzed out of the elevator to strut her way down the hall in the direction of her office. All the windows had very nice curtains over them but she found she could not remember when they had gone up. It blocked the unpleasant and unwelcome sunlight very nicely so she had no room to complain. Complaining could be saved for other things, like the way the Joker skipped loudly as he followed her, or the way he whistled annoyingly. No matter how she determined not to cringle on his higher notes, she always did.
She shifted, dropping back a fraction to block people from seeing him whenever they passed even though she understood it was an effort in futility. People offered her very tight smiles when they passed, always clutching papers or folders tightly to their chests reflexively as they sped up to go around her. People avoided her when they could lately even if they were polite about it. It always made her wonder what they were thinking, what they could see in her that made them skitter away. Was the insanity hovering near as obvious as all that? Was it Brooke they feared or was it more than that?
These days they all acted as if walking near her was like walking over a sheer of ice that could crack and send them both plummeting, like they thought they were in danger and so was she. Often she would kill to know exactly what they all knew about the last year. They might know the truth. They might know even more than she did. Then again, what they knew might be speculation and lies. There was no way to say, especially since she did not even know herself. No one knew everything, save one man.
Short gray-black curls crowned the face of weathered but still authoritatively gentle features. Lucious was still handsome and a hundred times more spellbind ing than a good half of the rest of the world without even trying. She always suspected he was devastatingly handsome when he was younger and must have had girls lining up for him. Even she found herself charmed and soothed around his manner more often than not. It was why she gave him her shares in the company, why he was more the owner than she was. She knew she could trust him the way she knew she could trust Alfred or Gordon.
"Good morning, Lucious!" She offered him genially.
"Good morning, indeed, Ms. Wayne!" He nodded to her as he slowed his progress down the hall before stopping entirely.
"How are things progressing?" She subconsciously shifted to hide the man behind her. She never wanted Fox to see Joker, and more than that, she hated Joker being near the man.
There wee so few people Brooke or even Batwoman could say she trusted but Fox was one of them. The thought of endangering any of the people she cared for, even if Joker had not made so much as a suspicious twitch toward anyone she cared for since he burrowed into her life like a parasite, it never really felt safe. It should be safe, should be, but was it? Logically she thought it was safe, all things considered, but there was always that margin of error, for that small percent of risk. It left her feeling uneasy constantly.
"Oh, very well, as usual. Points are up even from yesterday. The new release is going exponentially better than even I expected!" His voice held a good portion of his allure and it was an easy task to let it wash over a person. Trusting Lucious Fox was simple.
Joker rested his chin on her shoulder and circled her waist with his arms, "The man behind your mask, huh? No wonder no one ever figures you out. They'd have to get past him to get close to you."
Brooke found her thoughts instantly scattered like cotton puffs in the wind and she struggled to hold up her smile. "Any other news?"
"You mean, has anyone of more interest been in contact?" He nodded, watching her with those sharp, shrewd eyes.
"You always end up asking him." Joker whispered right into her ear, lips brushing the shell and making her nearly flinch, "He's going to start thinking you don't love him too."
Lucious watched her, eying Joker and the rest of the space around her to evaluate the situation, so Brooke made the effort to draw attention from her discomfort, "I mean, not that I'm worried, or anything. And it's not like you have to tell me one way or the other. Your business is your own."
She did not want him to ask if everything was 'all right' or ask if she was feeling 'well' or if she needed his 'help' because she hated when he noticed she was less than perfect. Though she understood that he knew she was probably not well, he was the one that cobbled her back together, she hated being sure he knew. Brooklyn's facade was all she had and if it dropped what was to stop more and more people from seeing too much. If they saw too much they would probably see the Bat underneath. Couldn't afford that! This was Brooke's problem, not Batwoman's! The two could never cross or she might forget which was which.
"But you have to know?" Lucious smiled like the charmer he was, "Oh, yes, I spoke with Alfred this morning, as a matter of fact. He asked after you, naturally, wanted me to remind you to eat. Said to clarify that thinking about making a sandwich did not qualify if there was no followthrough. He also told me to remind you that dust does not magically clean itself, and since you signed the house over to him years ago, he would take it kindly if he could find things underneath the dust mountains, so you might consider taking out the duster once in a while."
Brooke grinned wide and laughed honestly, "Of course he did!"
"You really do look so much like your father. It sometimes... throws me a little, when I come to this office." Regina Zellerbach's wrinkled face gained a fair few more wrinkles when she smiled sadly.
Old family friends always seemed to make those comments. Once was never enough, they had to do it again and again just on the off chance she might forget. Perhaps it was actually because they were getting on in years. Older people tended to repeat themselves rather frequently, sometimes even word for word identical to the last ten times they told the story. It was probably the age issue. Those that knew her family was older people and she was the last surviving Wayne. Maybe she should consider having her eggs frozen somewhere just to be sure there were more Wayne's in the future? Where exactly had that thought come from? Being around nostalgia was so dangerous! Why had she been an only child?
She did not want to get old. What would she do as an old woman? How could she keep up the important part of her life? Hopefully, she would go out in a blaze of glory and have all the criminals locked safely away before she got to the point where she couldn't do it anymore. With all the injuries she's had she hardly dared think just how bad arthritis would be.
Brooke smiled big and bright and fake, "You would be surprised how many people tell me that, Mrs. Zellerbach! At least I know where I get my looks."
The woman eyed her, bordering on confused, trying to decide what she must mean, "Well, I'll be going. I hope I was of help to you."
"Oh, you know you are utterly invaluable to the company! Don't fish for compliments, you know how I feel about having a friend of the family around. You're always the best!" Brooke grinned again and winked while she walked the woman to the door.
Joker stood in the corner, watching, looking serious and deducing entirely too much the way he usually did. He watched everything like a hawk if he was interested, and usually remembered too much even if he was not. She expected he might have a photographic memory. She also thought he was one of those rare and terrifying individuals that could read the minuscule changes in expression, the ones nearly invisible, and deduce even more from hem than should be possible. She knew a great many psychics managed their trade with that skill, the skill to read lies and truth from things most people never noticed they gave away. Had he ever been in a circus she would have bet money he could have made a fortune as a, well, fortuneteller?
Once she eased the door shut a burst of his cool breath tickled her ear, "It bothers you so much when they say things like that." There was no pretense of a question, just vocalized understanding. "It kills you when they bring it up. Rubbing salt in the wound every time because you never did let it heal."
Her face drifted into a more normal blankness as she faced him, "Doesn't everyone hate being compared to other people?"
"It's different with you though. You want it too much because it's all the connection you have to them, but it's not enough to satisfy that whole you never filled in. You're desperate for the approval of people that can't ever give it to you because they aren't here."
She moved past him and rounded on her desk, dutifully immersing herself in appearing focused on the papers. Joker perched himself on the desk for a minute before he decided to actively lay down and spread himself out over her desk, pinning most of the papers under his body. Fingers pressed into his shoulder, she pushed enough to get a hold of a few papers to read over before she relaxed back into her chair.
He was not wrong the way he had that uncanny ability to ferret out the weakness in others. He drove people insane because of it because he always just knew how to get under the skin of anyone. Whether it was his intelligence or his insanity that made him so good at it, she could not say.
There were times she feels the desperation to know so keenly it hurts even her body. She would give anything to know! People told her frequently how much she resembled her father, how she had his eyes, his features. She knew who she looked more like, but which one of them was she most like in other aspects? Would she have ended up like her father in more than face or would she have been more like her mother? Had they both lived, which one would she have been measured against and deemed most like or nothing like? How would things have transpired? Would she have been a mixture of the two or their antithesis? Had they been around, would they approve of her and all she turned out to be?
All she really knew was that she could not endure wearing pearls. Many men had given them to her in pretty strands that found themselves locked away in a bank. Joker had stolen some from one of her many security boxes once and she found herself intensely thankful to him for that. When she was small she thought wearing pears would be the grand signal that she was all grown up but the touch of pearls now made her physically ill.
She knew that she would never be a doctor no matter how many times she stitched herself up. While a large amount of head knowledge was there, there was something particular that a good doctor had that she never did. Her father had it in spades but whatever it was had never found a home in her. She suspected she was far too dark for it to take root. Things like that required sun to grow.
Still not knowing that answer, not being able to say which of them she might have taken most after killed her. Deep down, she knew, knew it every time she saw their disappointed faces hovering in the glass surrounding the batsuit. This was not the life they planned for their daughter. They would probably rather have seen her stand up to the world with her own face and die as they had rather than becoming a shadow.
"It's alright, Sugarplum fairy." It should have sounded mocking, but it actually sounded kind.
He rolled onto his side and reached out, running his fingertips over her cheek in a knowing sort of way, like he read every single thought as it passed her mind. When he leaned over and pressed his lips to hers she did not pull away, just let him kiss her before he rolled to his feet. It was a little awkward the way he hugged her with the chair decidedly in the way but the thought behind it was to let her know he cherished her; the underlying 'even if they would not' went unsaid.
"Why do you...?" She stopped, not sure what wording she could even use to express the question.
"Care? Linger? Stay? Bother? Love you?" His face nuzzled into her hair and he took a deep drag of air, smelling her, "Because I'm compelled to. You were my obsession at first..." He breathed her in again, "You know, they say that everyone, everyone, has something or someone they care about."
Rather lazily, he shifted her and himself until he was in the chair and she was in his lap. It should have annoyed her but she found that she oddly did not take offense to the change nor care. Over time she grew more and more used to his strange behavior, probably because he was the only true constant in her life. That might have been why she felt safe with a lunatic as well. She could no longer imagine being without him and that might have been the true reason she was so royally screwed over in the situation at hand.
"That first time I hurt you, really hurt you, and I thought I'd killed you..." he confessed low and quiet, "I realized just how badly I wanted you to live. I'd never felt fear quite like that before. I could not live without you. And when you were so broken, begging not to be left alone, I could do nothing but answer."
Brooke wrinkled her nose and looked into his glazed eyes, "When did I ever beg you to stay, exactly?"
Joker blinked and hid his face in her neck, "It doesn't matter. All that matters is us being together forever!"
"Forever is a long time." She allowed her head to rest awkwardly against his.
"I know." He sighed contentedly.
He must really believe they could be together forever, she thought. The world taught her differently as it should have taught him. Nothing is forever and nothing lasted. But that was morbid thinking, she supposed.
When she moved into her house from the garage, waving to the new driver Alfred apparently insisted on, because clearly she could not be trusted to drive herself, she went right to the house phone to see if there was a message for her. She kept a house phone the same way she kept an office phone, different numbers from her cell. It made tracking her down a bit harder if she did not want to be reached. The blinking indicated there was a message or two and she smiled fondly at the machine, hopeful that it would be from the boys or Alfred.
Once she played through a few political calls and boring business pitches, she came upon what she hoped for.
"Hey, Brooke!" Dick chimed over the speaker sounding bubbly and happy, "Just calling to let you know I'm doing great, the weather is great, the beach is great, you get the picture. All in all, doing awesome! Talk to you soon! Bye!"
With a wide grin, she saved the message. It seemed remarkably like the last message she remembered but she could not really blame him for repeating the same thing. Leaving a message was not the best place to go into a lengthy monologue. it was nice just to hear from him. It was just nice to hear his voice. She missed them all but she understood that it was better this way. What would she do if they were home while the Joker was still around? No, best for them to stay away.
"So very domestic!" Joker sidled in behind her. "You smile differently when it's them."
In a good mood now, with him at her back, she leaned into him in a show of contented trust she almost never showed, "Something wrong with that?"
He was pleased, she could tell by the way he puffed up like a happy balloon. "You know how I hate to share. Now! How about a horror movie marathon?"
"Isn't living with you a full-time horror movie?"
He spun her around, fingers sinking deep into her hair, huge hands cupping her skull like he might be readying to crush it even if there was no pain, "The jokes are my department, Fairy princess!"
"They are?" She deadpanned, "I never noticed."
His jaw dropped theatrically wide, "Excuse you! News flash, I have feelings and you just hurt them!"
She put a finger to his nose and cooed at him, "I'm sorry, I guess the rumors were wrong, my mistake."
Joker pulled her head in to tuck under his chin, sniffing at her hair with a purr, "You're so beautiful when you're being mean!"
"Excuse you, Sir! I'm always beautiful!" She put on her socialite Gala voice for the occasion.
There was another purr as he circled her in his arms and lifted her off her feet, "That's true! Can't argue that, unless it's early morning before you get coffee. Or when you wore that fall sweater the other day."
She swatted his arm and was struck by the familiarity they had fallen prey to, like some old couple but she covered her shock and discomfort quickly, "If you want horror movies I'm going to require cocoa."
"Not pumpkin spice lattes? Tis the season, you know!" He asked casually, still carrying her like a toddler might carry a large cat.
"Are you going to go get me one?" She arched a derisive brow.
"Did I ever tell you," he grinned and giggled, "about the time I moonlighted as a barista? How about I make you my specialty? It calls for latte, pumpkin, white chocolate, maybe some vanilla, and a dash or two of bat wings."
"Very funny! Don't quit your day job."
"You are my day job, noon, break time, night, all of them. You're a full-time job! " He jostled her intentionally, swinging her legs like a pendulum, "Have I tricked you into having fun yet or do I need to find a mountain of dead leaves to throw you in?"
Brooke rolled her eyes, almost laughing as he brought her into the kitchen until she saw something out of the corner of her eye. She pushed herself out of his arms and raced to follow what she had seen. She nearly skidded when she saw the pools of blood leading down the hallway, her breath stuttering in her chest, but she knew she had seen Alfred walking this direction. The need to find him was suddenly all-encompassing and she screamed his name in panic, breaking into a full sprint she only used as the Bat.
She tracked the bloody trail, the smears of bloody hands on the walls, until she reached his room. She flung open the door with another shriek of his name, the stench hit her instantly, followed by the wave of blood crashing into her legs. The room was filled with blood a few feet deep and it ran out the open door, sloshing around her and down the hall like a flood. She could not breathe but she also could not stop screaming.
Stumbling, she surged forward, the carpet sloshing wet under her sodden feet, "Alfred!"
Strong, strong hands took her by the shoulders and whirled her around, Joker's face filling her vision, "Fine, Brookie, you win, hot cocoa it is, babe!"
She gripped desperately at his wrists, realizing then just how badly she was shaking, "Alfred's hurt! There's blood!" Her voice was raw from the volume of her screaming.
"No, no, he's fine, he's safe, darling! He's on vacation, remember?" His hands cupped her face, thumbs rubbing her cheeks to keep her looking at him, "No horror movies, ok? How about some chick flicks or maybe some old comedy shows, hmm?"
"The blood!" She whispered desperately.
"Ms. Wayne!" The young man, her driver, she remembered, stumbled into the room, chest heaving.
Brooke looked at him, that young face staring back with honest worry. Her eyes took in the lack of smeared blood on the wall behind him and she lowered her gaze to the floor, the clean, spotless floor. Joker let her go and she sank her fingers into the dry carpet, though she had no idea when she had gotten on her knees but he was kneeling with her.
"Are you alright?" The driver, Steve? asked.
"Yes. No. I- of course, I was..." Her voice sounded like she had been smoking for fifty years, though not like the Bat. "I tripped. But I'm fine." She stood quickly and hurried out the door, shutting it behind them all.
"Now leaf us to our business, young man!" Joker sniffed indignantly and took her hand, leading her away.
She caught herself a second before scolding Joker for being rude, instead smiling back at the driver, "Thank you for checking on me! So sorry to have pulled you away from your tasks."
He looked wary but smiled at her anyway before he hurried back the way he must have come. There was no resistance in her body as Joker lead her back down the hallways, she let herself be content. She was seeing things, hallucinating. Even if the man she was with was crazy, well, at least he seemed to have a better grasp on things than she did currently.
"Is insanity contagious?" She asked him playfully even though in the back of her mind she is curious why he did not ask her what she saw as if he already knew.
"Nah, it just likes to bounce around. Invade sanity's territory and ruffle some feathers for a while when given the chance."
Brooke's fingers flew over the keys, eyes focused and intent on her work while her companion did lord knew what. She heard no sounds of breaking so she assumed it must not have been too terrible a thing he was preoccupied with. The farther away he was from her, the less harm he could do anyway. The was both a blessing and a curse, one he explained to her once but she forgot a large portion of the details. Either way, Gotham was safe because she had a handle, a leash, on The Joker. Thankfully!
The office door swung open and for a horrible moment, she feared she miscalculated and the man had done something terrible after all, but no. Susan walked primly to the desk and set out a stack of papers, neatly organized and color coded. Efficient as the day was long, that woman! Once upon a time she had even been significantly more friendly. There was a time once where they would chat, have a conversation past the clipped answers she received now. What changed, she often wondered, and why did the woman seek to escape so swiftly?
Susan was nearly back out the door when Brooke called to her. The stiff way she stopped and turned back around was telling to how much she wanted to be out the door.
A few weeks ago she had accidentally intercepted a call Susan made on her line to Fox. It was clearly only the tail end of things and she had opened her mouth to pardon her self but stopped.
"I still don't see how this arrangement-" Susan was cut off abruptly.
Lucious had on his business voice, "If you can't handle working for Ms. Wayne, if you don't feel capable of doing your job, I will find someone else that will."
"No, no!" Susan hurried to put in, sounding dejected, "I can do it."
"That is good to hear. Good, trustworthy employees are always nice to hold onto."
The conversation had ended just that soon. She could only guess some of her more neurotic tendencies had been showing steadily. After that, she endeavored to be more careful to hide all her decided issues. Batwoman had enough problems without Brooke adding insanity to the public list of things they said about her day face. There was no way to explain what had been going on, at least none that would satisfy anyone.
Brooke turned on the Wayne charisma, letting her features be expressive and welcoming.
"I don't suppose Dick or Jason have called recently?" Brooke asked casually, putting that long-suffering note of parental annoyance into it.
Susan smiled instantly, tight and forced, shifting her weight from foot to foot, "Oh, yes! Actually, Dick left you a message from the both of them. He said the trip was going very well and wanted to assure you their studies abroad were coming along quite well."
Brooke brightened a bit, smiling more, "That's good to hear! I trust they are doing well so long as Dick can keep Jason in line."
Susan laughed like it was a bad joke, but a joke she had to find amusing because it was the boss, "Of course."
"Don't worry too much about the boys, Brookie, baby. Worry about me! The poor, neglected poltergeist!" Joker eased into her lap, materializing slowly into being.
The feeling of his cold body made her shiver, but she could hardly respond when someone was watching, not without the crazy rumors gaining momentum. He was heavy considering he was supposed to be intangible. No one but Brooke could see him so they would never believe her. Most of the time she did not totally believe it.
It got easier and easier to believe when he broke things that had to be cleaned up though. He told her not long ago that ghosts had goals too; proving a thing or two to skeptics. It was no fun making a believer believe, what was the point, he said, and she could see that.
"That will be all, thank you, Susan," Brooke told her sweetly, only to have Joker sing-song the words in echo, waving theatrically to the woman as she left.
Joker comes alive at night, breathes in the air like it's candy to his lungs. The night unfetters him the way daylight cages him. He surprised her the first time he announced he was coming with her on patrol, jumping into the unused Robin suit, making it come to life with him.
That had been near the beginning of his inserting himself into her life and she had been hard to convince. "Tough crowd" he'd muttered.
Aside from the hair and the smile, remarkably, he could pass for Robin. She made adjustments; a hood, a second mask to cover the smile and all but a tiny sliver of his face, and a sort of collar that could change his voice to a very close proximity, and they were set.
She had her reservations about letting him accompany her but she really did need someone to stand in for Robin to at least cover the potential of anyone noticing Jason was gone the same time Robin was. After the first night went without issues she decided to not only run with the idea, but also to make him a Nightwing impersonator as well with the same adjustments. To keep people from noticing anything particularly amiss, she added a lower jaw portion to her own mask.
Joker did not fight the way a former acrobat would but he did a fair imitation, convincing enough that no one questioned it. The voice change went a very long way to cover things even though he laughed significantly more often than the genuine article.
He was vicious in a fight but he adhered to her rules, never taking that killing step, just getting a lot of blood everywhere. Criminals were more wary of Robin and Nightwing suddenly, and she did not blame them.
Instinct always had people shying away from Joker in any setting and that did not change even when he was in costume because most people stuck with their gut reactions. Killers were killers even if they stopped killing, the danger never went away. No one could see the lunatics eyes but somehow there was a glitter anyway, that manic, frightening thing peeking out.
Joker crouched on the rooftop beside her, staring at the dangling criminals swaying helplessly by the cables until officers would arrive to take them away. He panted, nearly shaking, but not from exertion, from the rush. "Batsy!" the Nightwing mask breathed at her, he just kept panting, like a gleeful dog, "I'm finally starting to understand why you do this. Don't get me wrong, I still like my way better, but there is a charm to what you do too."
Brooke did not answer but she looked into his face, tempted to peel the mask away enough to see the one animating it.
"What I do is an art! It's canvas with a blade rather than a brush... this, this is art like a spider's web. Strings and glittering traps, exacting your will, demeaning the ones you catch! Leaving them alive to writhe and squirm! Exerting your power, letting them know exactly who the alpha really is! It's poetry, Bats! I'm a painter and you are a poet! Palet knife to your pen! That's what it is! It fits doesn't it?"
What could she say? Nothing. And sometimes it was horrifying to listen to Joker talk in Dick's voice. It felt undeniably wrong for him to speak gleefully of murder while in Nightwing's armor.
"You grasped something few ever master! Even I typically can't get this one right, and if I know the punchline won't fly, I don't do it. You though!" He was undeniably high, so far into manic he was buzzing with it, "You mastered the delicate balance. You know how to leave them alive but make it as much a death as slitting their throat. Leaving them alive has to be done just so or they will be grateful, won't suffer for it. There is torture in leaving them alive, maybe a worse torture. Ring the life out of them but stop just short, take everything, everything, set it all ablaze, and let them live to know you took it away. All their work, it belongs to you. Alive to languish and know that they will always fail no matter how desperately they struggle!"
With a swift motion, he jerked the lower half of his mask down, lunging and pressing his lips to the spot her lips would be under her own mask. He scrabbled for the clasp on her mask desperately even though he had not waited for it to come away to kiss her. Once he got it off he kissed her again with just as much desperation. Once again she said nothing but she did not pull away either, mentally struggling to decide what response she should offer.
After a moment he sighed contentedly and slid his face to rest in the crook of her neck, nuzzling. "You're like the moon to my werewolf, Bats! I'm your wild, rabid lunatic, but I'm yours..." he licked a line up her chin to emphasize the comparison, she guessed.
"It's cold out. We should go home." Clearly she almost bought into his dog act too because she nearly gave him a pat on the head, stopping her hand halfway. Still, out of all the things she could have said, she went with pathetic copout subject avoidance. She needed a new playbook. At least she stopped the derogative pat on the head.
Joker grinned wickedly like he knew anyway, "How to kill the mood 101."
A swift fastening of her mask half back into place and she was sweeping away, cape fluttering dramatically. After a second or two of watching her, he did the same and followed after her.
What else could he really do though? No one else could even see him. She had no idea how he even died! For all she knew, she killed him. It almost felt cruel, dragging him around. She would have been kinder to a dog. This almost felt like Stockholm syndrome. It chaffed at her, made her feel sick. Never had she asked to be anyone's master.
"Don't be like that." He mumbled from behind her, and she has to mentally filter his real voice in, "This was my choice, mine!" It was close to a growl, "Don't play the guilty party where it doesn't fit. This was what I wanted, I wanted to have you, no matter how it had to be. I'd rather spend my life with you than anyone else in the world! I don't care who sees me since the only one, only one that ever mattered was you! You made me love you, and with me, it's not a tame monster Heh! I put myself in a cage with you because it's all I ever wanted... but I'll always be wild, Batsy, so not much has changed."
Brooklyn Wayne and even Batwoman had no idea what to do with that level of devotion. Whatever he felt, whether it was a normal human emotion or not, he felt it with more depth than anyone she knew of. He was an empty chasm, except when he wasn't. He really was chaos and passion, eccentricity itself mixed into psychosis. Danger in every breath, but he held it back at her bidding, let her be in control. She knew he allowed it, knew her control over his disastrous touch was an illusion because no one could really control chaos, they could only direct it if it wished to submit.
Impulsively, she reached back and took his hand. What else was she supposed to do with him? Ignoring him never worked out well but her own emotions were too bottled up to just let them spill out the way he did. She physically could not let go the way he did, could not allow even a sliver of freedom into her actions. Emotions were a luxury even she could not afford.
She had no idea how to live in the moment. Tiny gestures were all she could manage on her own. When he took the first steps it was easier, but initiating anything was so close to impossible for her.
He could speak his mind and she could not. Calling her a poet was irony. He could flow and she stood still. Distance to his up close. Perhaps they instinctively balanced each other. Whatever the other was, or what they needed, that was what the later would be. Was that why he'd seemed more sane lately?
She never thought she needed Joker, but these days she started to understand that he had needed her for a long time. Maybe, at this point in her life, she must have needed him too. She knew that need must have sprouted while she had been away, in that space of time she had forgotten, but it did not matter.