A/N: This was written soon after seeing TDK for the first time, in order to explore the bizarre dynamic between vigilante and villain. Since then, it's gotten a major facelift and been reposted. The new version is definitely an improvement!
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He lounged against the low wall, heedless of the twelve-story drop behind him.
"Ah, so glad you could join me, Batsy!" he grinned, gesturing broadly with his purple-gloved hands. Batman watched from the shadows with slitted eyes. He didn't trust the Joker an inch.
The Joker seemed not to notice his reluctance, or perhaps he simply ignored it.
"So, how are things in the big city? Rumors have, uh, reached me that you're not quite as, hmm, popular, as once you were. I do hope it has nothing to do with my… protégé?"
"You corrupted Harvey and left him for dead," came Batman's low growl. "and it's thanks to you I'm the most wanted man in the city. I hope you're satisfied, at least." The Joker's smirk grew wider.
"Well, I really can't take responsibility if you, uh, insist on taking the blame. I was locked up in Arkham, remember? Top security. I'm sure I couldn't have done anything from there."
Batman glowered as the Joker burst into laughter.
"Well," the Joker giggled, the gales of laughter subsiding, "I just hope you're as, uh, pleased with the results as I am. That really was a brilliant move, alienating yourself from the city you're trying to protect." He burst out laughing again, the sound throbbing through Batman's ears straight into his brain, lingering there.
The caped crusader ran a hand across his eyes. "Why?" he whispered, a desperate plea to understand any part of the madman's fevered mind. "Why try to destroy it all? You're genius, you could do so much more than just kill. Why?"
The Joker stopped laughing, suddenly deadly serious. "Why?" he asked, taking a knife from his pocket and flicking it back and forth. "Why? Because. Because civilization is a house of cards that only needs a little push to fall apart. Because you defend them so valiantly and everything must have its opposite. Because I can. Because I am. Because."
"You're crazy," Batman whispered, blank words spoken to barricade him from the truth than rang through the Joker's. Joker smiled again, the red-daubed scars twisting hideously, the glittering silver knife still flickering between his hands.
"No I'm not. They found that out quickly enough at Arkham!" He certainly wasn't out of his mind. If anything, he was too sane. Painfully sane. Able to see the utter uselessness of all the struggling, and the yawning abyss only a step away that most people closed their vision to.
"You're evil then."
Really Batman, there's no need to be insulting. You know me too well to really believe it's that simple.
"I'm not that either. You do what you think, uh, best, and I do too."
"You kill for no reason," Batman rasped, determined to lay some charge upon the clown's head, useless as it would be.
"Always for a reason, even if it only makes sense to, ah, me. 'Sides," he added, yellow teeth barred in a skeletal smile, "you've killed too."
Batman stared at him, cape rippling slightly in the breeze. "What are you talking about?" he whispered, completely nonplussed. "I've never killed, I…" He was cut off by a sudden burst of cold, cackling laughter.
"Oh please," the Joker wheezed, gasping for breath, "of course you've killed! Ya killed your friend when ya left him on that train, you kill people when ya don't arrive quick enough, hell, you even kill people chasing around in your Batmobile! Just because you don't get your hands dirty doesn't mean you aren't responsible for their deaths."
"You're lying," Batman growled. It couldn't be true.
"Most especially though," the Joker hissed, "you've killed people by letting people like me go free. One life for many, your conscience for dozens of victims! Every time I kill now, you've killed as surely as if you pulled the trigger or held the knife. You're responsible for all the deaths!"
"I didn't let you go free," Batman breathed, eyes burning in the dark cowl. "I took you off the street, away from people, I left you…"
"Danglin' like a piñata, yes," Joker interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. "But really now, did ya honestly think that that rat hole you call a prison could hold me? Would it hold you? Ya musta known I'd be back someday, back to killing, back to fighting, back to find you, and ready to tear the city apart until I did. Yet you still let me live. And as a result, more people are dead."
Batman leaned back against the shed that housed the rooftop stairwell, breathing as heavily as if he had just finished a marathon. If the Joker had chosen to attack him then, he would be dead before he could react, but he was somehow sure, without knowing why, that the clown would allow him a few moments with his confused thoughts.
What the Joker said made horrible, twisted sense. Even as he turned the clown over to the SWAT team, he had known that Arkham would only be a temporary measure, a brief respite dearly bought. The only sure way to stop him was to kill him. But how could he take a life, even knowing that? He'd sworn he wouldn't kill, but it suddenly seemed that no matter what he said or did, he would do just that anyway. No matter which way he chose, there would be casualties, but could he really compel himself to sink a Batarang that last fatal inch into the Joker's heart or force a toxic capsule down his throat, even if it meant saving all those nameless, faceless people in the future?
He was suddenly given the chance to find out.
Joker stepped towards him, his dark eyes oddly earnest.
"Kill me," he said simply. When Batman made no reply, he repeated, "Kill me," and took another step forward. This time Batman recoiled, and his painted face twisted into a sneer.
"Kill me now," he challenged, pulling his coat wide. "Do it, kill me!"
Batman understood the choice he was being offered, the chance to save his city by damning himself. Can I do it? he wondered, can I sacrifice my ideals if it means helping people? And then he wondered, who am I to put myself before the city?
Against his will, moving as if by some hidden puppeteer's string, he stepped forward, the fingers of one gauntleted hand encircling the clown's neck. His thumb traced the shape of the windpipe beneath the translucent skin before taking a surer grip, and a shudder of either pleasure or fear coursed through the body next to him.
"Do it," the clown mouthed, Batman's hand too tight now to allow him to speak.
If I did, the city would never have to be afraid of scum like him again, what happened to Rachel would never be repeated. For a moment Batman wanted to, was about to, was on the brink of ending that mocking laughter forever, his fingers clenching and the skin beneath them turning first white, then red, the Clown Prince laughing, and choking on the laughter…
Then a new image, another madman running wild in Gotham, this one dressed not in purple finery and face paint but in black armor and a horned cowl that made him look like a demon…
"No!" he gasped, the word almost strangled to nothing, and reeled away from the slim figure still posed before him like an oversized doll. He couldn't.
The Joker watched him with interest, panting slightly, the flesh on his neck bruising. The Batman fascinated him.
He seemed struck by a sudden thought. "Hey Batsy…why don't you, uh, join me?"
Still shaken by what had just transpired, the caped crusader was sure he couldn't have heard properly.
"What?"
"Now that you're out of the limelight, why not? Think of what we could do together. There's no fight we wouldn't win!"
Batman stared at him. The Joker grinned again, drawing closer.
"Really, it makes sense for us to work together. After all…" Those long, twisted scars twitched again. "…you do complete me."
Surely Batman understood that? Understood that they were perfect opposites, but perfect reflections as well, a superbly matched pair. If one was order, the other was chaos. If one was safety, the other would be freedom. He was a dark mirror for Batman to be reflected in, and Batman was the reason he existed. They were perfect foils to each other. Other, lesser villains would take to the streets of Gotham, and Batman would defeat them. But him…Batman could never defeat him. Impossible. One side of a coin could not exist without its reverse. Everything must have its opposite.
Seeing Batman remained unconvinced, he decided to play his trump card.
"Besides, who, uh, knows? You might end up being a, uh… good influensssssss."
And for a moment Batman did see it. Together, he and the Joker could be unstoppable. As two halves united at last, nothing would be impossible. They could cleanse the city of criminals and corrupt officials, they could instate a new, better system…and maybe, just maybe, he could show the Joker a better way to do things, exert some control over his willful chaos, direct and channel it…surely the clown wouldn't want any rival crime bosses in his city? And wasn't one crime lord better than many?
For a moment, the new, glittering city filled his mind, guarded by an unstoppable pair. He would keep them safe, and the Joker could show the citizens, too long paralyzed by fear, how to live again. Maybe…it could work.
Then the vision faded, and he was left staring into the Joker's painted, grinning face. It couldn't work. Yes, they completed each other. Each of them defined the other's role simply by existing as an opposite. In a way as twisted and strange as the Joker himself, each of them was the reason the other existed. Somewhere deep in his mind, Batman knew that if he was killed, the Joker would soon follow, and that if it was the Joker who was destroyed first, then Batman would no longer be needed. But that was exactly why it wouldn't work. They needed each other, but not as allies.
"No," he whispered, his voice quiet but firm, allowing no room for argument. The Joker arched an eyebrow.
"'No?'"
In a twinkling, he was pressed uncomfortably close, and Batman's startled breath caught in his throat. But it was nothing compared to his discomfort when Joker drew another knife, trailing it delicately along the Batman's exposed jaw.
"And what if I made you, hmm?" he breathed. "What if I in-sis-ted?"
He silently noted the way Batman's pupils expanded with alarm, turning his eyes solidly black, like obsidian.
You ought to know by now, Bats, you really are the only one who's safe from me.
"You won't," Batman whispered with a confidence he shouldn't have felt. Without knowing how he knew, he was certain that the Joker would neither kill him nor try to force him to join him.
"Hmm," Joker hummed, sounding disappointed. "You're right."
He stepped back, stowing the knife in a pocket of his vest. Batman's eyes narrowed. If he was going to bring the clown in, it should be now, he wouldn't get a better shot than this…
For a reason he couldn't articulate, even to himself, he made no move to try and apprehend the Joker. It was the same reason the Joker had allowed him time to think, and hadn't slit his throat for refusing.
"I s'pose you're right," the clown sighed, stretching theatrically. "It ought to be one 'gainst the other, not as in-teresting if we're both on the same side. Uneven match, us against, uh, everyone else. But do let me know if ya ever change your mind, won't ya?"
Batman nodded. Nothing more was needed.
The Joker's dark eyes scanned the rooftops surrounding theirs. He crowed with laughter.
"Looks like your, uh, friends the police have spotted us. Usually a clue to vacate."
Batman nodded again, and jumped onto the low wall, spreading the glider's wings. The Joker grinned.
"Let me know if ya ever change your mind. Might be fun, havin' a partner."
"I will," he promised, and launched himself out into the night. The Joker made no sign of leaving, so he circled around, to make sure the Clown Prince didn't try to kill anyone.
The police were clambering out onto the rooftop, guns drawn. "Put your hands up!" one called. The Joker complied, smirking. All the police breathed a sigh of relief as his arms rose, but he had other plans. Still grinning, he carried the gesture into an elaborate bow, and…stepped backwards off the roof.
For a split second, Batman wondered if he really had gone insane…until he saw what the clown held. Swearing, he patted his utility belt, already knowing what he would…or wouldn't…find. Sure enough, the Joker had stolen his grappling gun. He watched as the Joker clambered up the rope, still cackling to himself. Maybe the clown was right, and this really would continue forever. And, he felt, turning back towards home, that in a way, that was how it should be.
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This is continued in my latest fic, Complete Me. Just to warn you, that one is slash. If that's not your cup of tea, then feel free to end the story here. :)