The Only Difference
By: PhoenixJustice
Disclaimer: The Dark Knight, Batman, etc is owned by DC and various people who aren't me. I only own this story and make no profit from this.
Warning: T for language, slash, etc
Pairing: Batman/Joker
Setting: Post-TDK
Summary: In order to try and understand his...something, and given an ultimatum, Bruce Wayne visits the Joker in Arkham.
A/N: Flashbacks are in italics.
This is for the BJTS Monthly Fic Challenge. This is my set of prompts:
Username: theloyalist
Pairing: batman/joker
Keywords: arkham asylum, winter, refined
Dialogue: "it is possible i have imagined my entire life"
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Two years to the day that the Joker made his presense known in Gotham in a blaze of fire, bullet, blood and death, Bruce leaves the rebuilt Wayne Manor and drives down to Arkham Asylum where the Joker resided in. Winter was upon the city of Gotham, snow falling down and blanketing the city in white, leaving him to be more cautious in his Lamborghini than usual. He could just hear the refined folks who hung around in his circles just scoffing at the mere fact that he was driving himself around, especially in this weather.
The Joker had not been in Arkham the whole time; no, he had been in and out of the building many times, leaving Batman to have to chase him again and again, recapturing him once more, leaving the Police to clean up the mess the clown prince of crime left behind.
It was becoming more and more weary; it took more out of him each time. But as much as the Joker had done, as much had he had done to the Joker...as much mayhem and chaos had been done by the man, he could not break his one rule. Especially when it came to the Joker.
His and the Joker's relationship was complicated, to say the very least. It had taken him a very, very long time to come to terms with some of the things the Joker had said; because he knew, in the deepest reaches of himself, even further than where the Batman slumbered, that they were true.
There had been violence and bloodshed, tears and laughter, countless dead, destruction, mayhem, beating each other to a bloody pulp and almost every rule bent and broken, but he still did not submit to the Joker's truth.
It hadn't been any of that; it had been the simplest thing in the world, and the words which so many had been told by other people, words which held the greatest meaning, and sometimes said with falseness, that had broken down the walls and changed things.
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He pulls his hand back for another strike, the sound of gloved fist hitting upon bone echoed in the empty streets; the only sounds the continuous laughter from the man in make-up. He pushes away from the Joker, the clown prince starting to get up off of the gravelly alleyway that was in one of the deepest part of the Narrows. Fitting, for that's where the criminals and deviants usually made their hunting ground.
"Oh, oh, Batsy--you've still got it in you, even after all this time!" Chortled the Joker, popping his neck as he stood, rolling his shoulders around a little bit. "It's been what--nearly a year and a half and you still keep me on my toes."
He starts to give the man a biting retort, but instead pulls back his fist once more, when he gets stunned into silence by the man's next words.
"I love you, Batsy."
His arm falls limp and all he could do was to stare at the man. His face, voice and whole demeanor was completely serious, not like any of the tricks that he had pulled, or attempted to pull, on the Batman before. No, this was... Sure, there had been innuendo's made by the Joker and he had acted provocatively towards him before, and he had even said things like 'You complete me' and the like to him, but never...not like this.
"You bastard," he rasped. His voice was even grittier sounding than it usually did when he was Batman. He felt his body shake; with anger, or some other emotion, he wasn't sure. "You fucking bastard. You can't--you can't say that. You can't--"
The Joker walks up to him and he stiffens when the man reaches out and touches his face with his gloved hands.
"Poor Brucey," the Joker crooned, caressing his face. "You've never heard those words before have you? Not like I mean them. Poor little Brucey..."
His eyes widen and gulps against his suddenly dry throat. "You--you know, I'm..."
The Joker smiles slightly. "For a long time, sweetheart. Why do you think I've gone after all the other bigwigs and rich folk in town but not Bruce Wayne?" His hands play around the opening to his cowl. "You're just so much fun to play with...the opposite side to everything I am. It's possible I imagined my entire life, but not you. Not Bruce Wayne; not my Brucey. You complete me, Batsy. How could I not love you?"
At those words he tries to pull back, but Joker pulls him forward. But after looking in the Batman's eyes, he lets him go. The light in the clown prince's eyes seemed to dim suddenly.
"You aren't ready to hear those words." Whispered the Joker. He pulls his hands together and raises them up to Batman, looking away from him. "Take me back to Arkham, Batman, I won't escape; I don't want to see you again until you're ready to face those words--and me--again. "
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The Joker had kept to his word, though Bruce had been at edge for a long time. Other crimes still occurred and he kept on as Batman. Once he felt sure that the Joker would be keeping to his word, he had expected to feel such relief that the biggest problem Gotham faced was away from the general populace, but all he felt was...an emptyness.
He ignored the feeling for as long as he could, keeping himself busy with his company, with his playboy lifestyle that he had to have to play to the cameras and population, with training, with his duties as Batman and it worked...for awhile.
But then his subconscious made him dream about what he was repressing and he would have long, intense, sometimes violent, always erotic, dreams about the Joker. And always in the end the Joker would ask; "Are you ready, Brucey?" And he always awoke before the answer.
Alfred knew something was amiss probably almost from the moment it happened, Bruce supposed, as the man missed almost nothing, and asked Bruce frankly what the Joker had said or done to create such tension in him. And Bruce found himself telling him what had occurred.
He had been apprehensive about the man's reaction, but all he said was; "Your life is your life, Master Wayne; I can't tell you how to run it--god knows I'm tried when you were a child," he said with a chuckle. "But all you can do is what feels right to you. I can't tell you what to do, or make demands on you--it wouldn't be fair to you. And...maybe you can be an anchor to that man, tie him down to some sanity and keep the world from burning."
It had taken a long time, but now here he was, snow falling down in flurries as he drove down the main street that led to the building of Gotham's most famous prisoners.
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He gets admitted into the building immediately, the orderly in charge for the night easily recognizing him, even under a blanket of snow and he dries himself off in the doorway.
"Mr. Wayne! This is definitely a surprise," said the orderly, a young looking man who couldn't be more than in his late twenties. He had bags under his eyes, most likely from the unusual hours and patients he worked with. "What is it that you need?"
"The Joker," he blurts out. The orderly blinks and he straightens up. "I wanted to talk with him. Alone."
The orderly all but gapes at him. "Sir, begging your pardon and all... that man's crazier than the crazy, but he's also dangerous. I couldn't possibly guarantee your safety--"
Bruce shakes his head. "I don't expect you to. But I want to speak with him. Under no influence of any drugs you might give him," he adds.
The orderly looks at him as if he was crazy, looking hesitant. "I still don't kn--"
Bruce removes his wallet from his pants pocket and pulls out twenty one hundred dollar bills, handing them to the stunned man. "Two hours."
The man, still looking surprised, nods slightly and removes his keys, opening the door in front of them and out towards the patients ward. They walk down the hallway and Bruce ignores the screaming and crying and babbling from some of the inmates as they walk past. He glances at the orderly.
"What do you know of the Joker?" He asks.
The orderly looks at him, their footsteps echoing upon the linoleum floor.
"You mean what the Joker's done? I've seen the news and all--"
Bruce shakes his head. "Not any of that; everyone knows those things. I mean more...personal things about him. Like his name, or anything. No information has ever been made public."
As much as he knew about the man, he also knew very little. He wondered a lot, once he allowed himself to think of the Joker, what the man was like in the past, what he did before he came to Gotham. Maybe he had always been in Gotham, but had only been noticed once he threw on some paint and rained destruction on the city.
They come to a halt in what Bruce knew to be the Joker's door. The orderly opens up the door with a key from a larger set on a ring. Bruce glances at the orderly who looked quite nervous.
"You can still turn back, Mr. Wayne, it's not too la--"
"That'll be all," interjected Bruce, smoothly. "Don't come back until two hours are up."
The orderly walks off, though he didn't pay any attention, and he opens the door to the dark room. The door closes with a loud clang behind him and a small light suddenly pops up and he could see the outline of the Joker who was sitting in a chair next to a small table and lamp.
It was silent for a few moments. All this way, all the things he had thought to say and he was frozen. But the clown prince wasn't, and he speaks; his voice low and gritty, as if he hadn't spoken in some time.
"I heard you out--siidee..." Drawled the Joker, shifting in the chair. "You wonder about little ol' me, Brucey? I'm touched...now get out." His voice hardens and Bruce shivers slightly from it, not exactly in fear either.
He takes a step forward.
"Joker," he says hoarsely. "I remember what you said; it's all I've thought about since you've been in here. You made me face something I didn't want to face; you made everything turn on its head, confusing me and making me unsure what was right or wrong anymore. But, I...I can't be out there without you. I tried it. I can exist out there, but it's...empty. Boring. Alone. You told me...something which no one has ever told me, and meant it. I didn't want to believe you at first. But I do. I never wanted to believe that we truly complimented each other...same sides to the same coin, you said...but we do. ...I love you too."
The Joker was out of the chair like a lightning bolt and he rushes over to Bruce, embracing him, nails raking down the billionaire's arms as Bruce pulls him in for a brutal kiss that lasted for quite a few moments. They both pull away and he moves to sit on the edge of the criminal's cot; the Joker sits next to him, looking at him, eyes bright, but curiously silent.
"Tell me about yourself, Joker." Demanded Bruce in his Batman voice, knowing that the Joker would love the attitude, and he was right. The Joker smiles at him, grabbing a deck of playing cards, pulling out three cards off the top of the deck and holds them picture side up towards Bruce.
"Okay. So there's this comic who can't make an audience laugh...I think that's how this one goes, I forget sometimes...oh, you've heard this one? All right... Ah, I can't keep em straight. How about a mob killer named Napier who comes to Gotham and-- No wait, you're too young for that one...I know. This one always works. So a small time yutz in a red hood walks into a factory, right? He's there to steal the payroll..."
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A/N: The Joker's last line is taken directly from The Origin of the Joker. XD
I hope everyone enjoyed this!
Let me know what you thought!
--PhoenixJustice