Disclaimer: I do not own the Joker or The Dark Knight! But I do own the plot to this story, SO DON'T STEAL IT!

Warnings: Slash (BoyxBoy relations), Blood, some violence, minor coarse language, minor suggestive themes, and some mild Rachel bashing.

Thoughts/Flashback

Emphasis/Title

"Talking"

The White Devil

Chapter 1

Another puddle. Another wave of water from below him washing away already smudged grease paint, the green hair dye had long ago washed out due to the prolonged water exposure. His breaths came out in short needy gasps. Sirens and alarms wailed behind him, a tall building becoming steadily smaller in the distance. Rain poured harder from the night sky, the carrot orange jumpsuit doing little to protect against the icy cold raindrops that bit at his skin and obscured his vision. Steel cuffs rubbed away at exposed skin making his wrists bleed a deep carmine. A combination of running for so long and constantly tripping made his legs burn and protest against him, threatening to give out at any moment.

He looked behind him and saw the blue and red lights had faded in the distance. His foot caught something and he stumbled. Cursing his clumsiness he quickly righted himself and picked up his pace, turning towards the large mansion looming over head.

Throwing himself against the large double doors, he managed to slap one hand against the doorbell, silently hoping for someone to be home.

Exhaustion finally caught up with him just as the door opened. "Please…" he whispered as he fell to his knees, his voice tired and pleading.

"Oh…oh my…Master Wayne, you might want to get down here!" that was the last thing he heard before the exhaustion forced him to close his eyes; his head colliding with the ground, "Quickly!" darkness consuming him.

Bruce's POV

I wrapped the fluffy towel firmly around my waist and rushed downstairs to the front door were Alfred stood dragging a limp form into the house. Alfred looked at me apologetically.

"I'm sorry to have interrupted your shower sir, but we might have a bit of a problem on our hands." he gestured to the orange clad body that was currently soaking up the carpet with more than just water.

"He's bleeding…wait, who is he?" Walking over to the still form, I turned the man on his back and froze. "Oh shit. What's he doing here? I saw him get locked away I put him in Arkham, how the hell did he escape!?" My voice steadily rose from a shocked whisper to almost yells.

The English butler said nothing.

"How long ago did he get here? Did he say any thing before collapsing? Why is he bleeding?" I started a panicked onslaught of questions while dragging the limp form in to the living room and on to the couch.

"Please master Wayne calm down. Now, in that order: I don't know what he's doing here, I don't know how he escaped, he got here about five minutes ago, and yes he did say something. I believe it was 'Please'. As for why he is bleeding, I would think it's either those rather uncomfortable looking cuffs or that rather large gash on his head." he said pointing to said gash. "Maybe both…" He added as a side thought.

To caught up with who he was I failed to notice the bloody, rather deep gash on the mans forehead. My eyes trailed down to his lips and I lightly brushed my hand over the scars that cut through the barely breathing mans cheeks, awing at how they stuck out so blatantly against rapidly paling skin.

"I suppose we can ask him that later…he obviously knows who I am, why else would he come here of all places?" I said knowingly. "Well take him to the bat cave and get him fixed up. Then I can beat some answers out of him." I growled half serious.

Normal POV

Bruce watched the slow rise and fall of the mans chest. Alfred had bandaged his wounds and stitched up the bloody gash. Hearing foot steps behind him, Bruce turned in his seat next to the makeshift hospital bed to see a worried looking English butler with a phone in his hand. "Master Wayne, do you wish for me to alert the police?" he questioned.

"No"

"But surely you don't intend to keep him here?" he pressed.

"You don't get it Alfred, he knows. If we send him back to Arkham he could tell every one their who Batman really is. Maybe not the patients but the staff; guards, counselors, visitors." The billionaire explained with a frustrated look.

"Pardon me sir but, who would believe him? They would most likely think of it as ramblings of an insane man."

"It only takes one."

Bruce turned towards the sleeping figure. "Damn it Joker, you know just what to do to ruin my day."

"Lets just hope he stays sleeping." Alfred chimed in.

The Joker was never the one to listen to what people told him, so, as an subconscious act of defiance, he started to rouse. A couple of incoherent sounds escaped his mouth.

Bruce jumped out of his seat, expecting the Joker to suddenly lash out at him. Alfred simply backed up a few steps, gripping the phone tighter.

Slowly, the Jokers eyes fluttered open and he groaned uncomfortably, arching his back off the makeshift bed.

Bruce noticed the slight rise of the Jokers hips and blushed, but quickly shook it off as it being to hot in the bat cave. He made a mental note to turn the heat down later.

"Alfred, go up to the mansion." Bruce commanded.

"Are you sure you want me to leave you with this…criminal?" Alfred glared at the slowly waking man in front of them.

"I'll be fine." Bruce assured.

The Englishman seemed doubtful but other wise turned and left, leaving Bruce alone with the slowly waking man.

The Joker gave his surroundings a quick once over and immediately realized he was not in his cell. He turned towards Bruce, giving him a questioning look. "Who-"

"What are you doing here?" Bruce cut off.

"Uhhh…that's a good question." The Joker tried to sit up but gave up immediately after a sharp pain rang through his head. Groaning, he turned to look at Bruce once more. "And ah, who exactly are you?"

"Don't play dumb, clown!" Bruce slammed his fist on the nearest table, knocking over a few medical supplies in the process.

"Whoa whoa calm down their pretty boy! I didn't do nothin'!" The Joker said raising his hands in defense. It was then that he noticed his wrists were bandaged up. "Jeez what happened to me?" A look of pure confusion appeared on his face.

Bruce calmed himself and took a minute to look at the Joker who was taking his time looking over his injuries. How could he not remember something that probably happened less than a half an hour ago? "Hey you!" Bruce half shouted. The Joker snapped out of his confused trance to look back at Bruce. "Hm?"

Bruce took a deep breath. Oh god I hope I'm wrong. "Do you know who you are?" Bruce asked slowly.

The Joker laid there, an indescribable look on his face. Finally, he answered.

"No."

AUTHORSNOTES

Woot! First chapter down! Okay this is my first Bruce/Joker slash so there will be absolutely no smut!

Trust me, if I were to write smut, the world would stop spinning just to look at me and say 'What the hell was THAT!?'

For those of you who don't know, Carmine is the term for a particularly deep red color and I just love using it in place of 'crimson' or 'deep red'.

Please REVIEW and if your into torture, check out my other 'The Dark Knight' stories on my profile!

Ba-Byz!