Drip, drip, droop, goes the water on the walls, little streams sliding down the windows, falling over the crackling sounds of an old record. Drip, drip. He can barely focus, droop. It's cold, too cold, and his jacket isn't enough. It looks a dark shade of gray, in the no-light. Everything. The world is black and gray and white.
Except for him, he's not gray or white, he doesn't even seem black, no no no, he's the absence of color in a way no other darkness is. The rain-shadows don't show on his suit or his skin, you can't see the world reflecting off of him. He's just there-
-and then he isn't-
-and then you're gone.
But this time he isn't moving, he won't allow that. Not this time! Because this time is different, he can feel it, and besides, he says so, that makes it so.
"Different."
There! See!
"Different." He hisses the word and starts toward the chair, and the absence resting in it, the absence he followed and fought and had to tie down.
He wants him to wake up.
He pauses, his gloved fingers brush his lips and then the man's, an almost-kiss, a promise, a later.
He doesn't want to make promises, he wants to do.
Should he wait? Should he go?
I don't know.
Hey!
That rhymed!
The rain is thickening, more shadows dancing around in the darkness, more blacks accenting the grays. He draws back and looks out the window.
What does he say?
Do you want me?
I love you.
I want you.
You're me.
Knock knock.
What will he say back?
I do.
I know?
I feel the same.
You sicken me?
Who's there?
What's going to happen? What's going to change?
There's thunder.
The belt goes off, beeping, one of his little friends. They aren't worth his attention, his devotion, his promises.
"Batman? Batman?"
He touches the belt, and a shock hits him, hard. He bites his lip and falls over. He doesn't cry out, but he whimpers, and goes to stand.
Last time he touches the belt. How'd he get it off, again?
Oh no.
The absence is stirring, now, but he's still struggling to rise, on his knees and hands. He coughs.
The Bat wakes up.
"Jo-" the name trails off, into a silence, that lasts only one moment. The man, the Joker, thinks he sees something in his face, not pity, but something similar.
The quiet continues.
"Your belt," he finally coughs, hack hack. He wipes a little trickle of blood from his lip. It smells like copper, and it stains his glove. "That... now, that was unexpected."
He doesn't speak, he barely even moves his mouth, he just "hmmm"s.
"You," he continues. "Have a quality belt, my friend. Glad you're putting it to good use."
"What do you want?"
"Oh."
Do you want me?
I love you.
I want you.
You're me.
Knock knock.
"Right." He pauses, and all the words leave his head, giving way to a fuzzy whiteness. "Um. Do you want to hear a joke?"
"No."
Of course not. "So, there's this guy-"
"I don't want to hear it."
"Oh," he says, a little bit stung. His head is still empty. It's always like this around him. After a moment, he blurts, "I can't think straight around you."
The rain has never been so loud.
"I see," the man says.
"Yeah. Yeah. It's true. Everything else fades out, like I'm about to faint, and then there's you, and I can't focus, and it's like I haven't slept in a week but you, I can focus on you without blacking out, and I'm dizzy and I have a headache but then I start to wake up, and I don't know what it is about you but it's like there's nothing and everything in me, all at the same time, and it's all because of you."
The rain is falling faster now.
"So there's this guy."
He doesn't stop him.
"I don't know what it is about him. Maybe his wife is pregnant and he doesn't have any money, maybe his girlfriend is sick, maybe his career is just falling apart, maybe he's dying, or maybe someone else is. Maybe it's his parents or his boyfriend, or maybe he's poor, or maybe he's just a drunkard, maybe he's just screwed up in the head, but he decides he needs a drink, and walks into a bar."
He takes a deep breath.
"And he's in there, drinking his drink, when he overhears these guys, saying god if only Jonny hadn't quit on us, if only we knew someone who could get us in to Ace Chemicals!"
The Batman's face darkened, shadows sliding over it. He knew where this was going.
"So the guy goes, wow, I worked at Ace! What an incredible stroke of luck! So he goes over to the other guys and says look pal, I don't know why you need to get into Ace but if you can pay me, I can get you through. And they go, perfect!
"So the next day, he's a part of their gang, and he's got the getup, and they're prepping him for their Grand Theft Ace, but then something happens, and he wants out. But it's too late and he's too far in, he can't get out."
"Stop."
He ignores the man and turned away, throwing his arms into the air. "Too late! That's what you get for being bad, bad, bad. And that night he takes them into Ace."
"I tried to-"
"But something goes wrong, the security's changed or the police were tipped off, and then they're not alone, and there's this thing, this man, and he's coming at him and he can't think and then-"
"I didn't push you."
And even with the storm, there is silence.
"I know," he whispers. "I fell."
"Into the disposal tanks."
"No, that's not it." He doesn't say anything else.
Maybe he doesn't need to.
The water falls from the sky, and there is thunder, and a flash of light, furious, and bright, and when his eyes have adjusted, the man is gone.
No!
He falls, forward, and lands on his stomach. He rolls onto his back and faces Batman. He looks ready for battle, ready for the struggle of chaos and order, ready to face the Joker.
He doesn't move to fight him.
He cant see his eyes, he never could.
A cloud covers the moon.
Everything is black.
The weight of the man disappears, and the Joker can't hear him walking away, but he knows he is.
"Batman?" He props himself up. "Batman!"
He doesn't come back.
He screams over the lightning.
"Look at me!"
He can't really tell, not with the darkness, but he thinks that maybe, maybe he stops walking.
But he doesn't turn around.
"Please!"
He stands, and falls forward. Batman catches him, because he has to, he can't let him fall again.
"You're drunk."
He laughs, loud and long.
"You're not making sense."
"Doesn't mean I'm drunk."
"I can smell it."
"A valid point." The Joker pushes him away and stands, folding his arms.
"There are shadows under your eyes."
"Well, fancy that." He yawns and stumbles back onto him. Batman tries to catch him, again, and they fall over, into the ropes. He's pinning him down.
Before he can react, he has the rope around his wrist, and rolls into his other arm, next to him.
"You're mine," he teases. He doesn't seem happy about it.
"Untie me."
"Nah."
Batman struggles, but he ties the other arm down, and then he sits on top of him. He kisses the symbol on his chest.
"Mine."
He kisses his forehead.
"Mine!"
He pauses, hovering, their faces close.
"Joker-"
He presses his lips to Batman's and lingers there for a second too long before he draws back, and hisses, "Mine."
