Title: The Four Men Who Want Batman and the Woman Who Gets Bruce Wayne
Summary: There's four of them that want him – and only one woman who gets him.
Characters: Harvey Dent, Joker, Jim Gordon, Bruce Wayne, Rachel Dawes & Batman
Pairing: Batman/Dent, Batman/Joker, Bruce/Rachel and Dent/Rachel
Rating: High T to light M
Standing on the rooftop of Gotham City Police Department, Harvey Dent waits patiently by the search light emblazoned with the symbol of the Batman. He wants the Batman because he believes that the Batman can do the things he wants to do. He wants the Batman because he's been doing something while the others of the city have sat back and done nothing.
"Who appointed the Batman?"
"We did."
Harvey's not a native to Gotham City but he's lived here long enough to know that Gotham City did appoint the Batman. They sat back and let the man take control of the scourge that run the place and turned the city back to the hands of the good people.
He'd turned the city over to people who could make a difference; people like Gordon (though maybe not Gordon's men), people like Bruce Wayne (though Harvey isn't so naive as to believe Bruce Wayne will ever do anything for Gotham like his father had done in years gone by) and to people like Harvey Dent and Rachel Dawes (though Harvey's not sure they're up to the challenge, not yet).
It's because of that that he wants the Batman; the Batman is a buffer between Rachel and the real underworld of Gotham, and while the Batman is out there, Rachel is separated from them, not in danger. Not in the way she would be if she was dealing with the mob alone, with Harvey – without Batman.
There's also a part of him that wants Batman because even he needs a hero. Even he needs someone to look up to; he may be a grown man but there's something about the power of the man who dresses like a bat that draws Harvey in. The man stands for the good and the honest and Harvey respects that.
It also kind of turns him on.
It's a want he doesn't ever let manifest except in the deepest dreams of night when Rachel is no longer curled around him. In the dreams, the mask stays on but the skin beneath the suit is revealed. Muscles shown to his eyes that he can only imagine are hiding under the suit of rubber.
Harvey's not gay but the Batman is the Batman and Harvey can't help but be attracted.
When the hero of Gotham announces himself on the rooftop, Harvey's almost disappointed Gordon's there. When the Batman approaches, Harvey can feel the coil in his gut tighten. When he speaks, Harvey almost recognises the voice but he pushes away thoughts of his identity.
Harvey wants the Batman, not the man that lies underneath.
--
Could the real Batman please stand up?
Joker isn't sure why he wants the Batman so badly. The thought of it makes him giddy and excitable, nervous and free all at once. He's almost bobbing in his seat at the back of the press conference, eyes roving the faces in front of him.
He knew the Batman would give himself up.
He's so good and god damn incorruptible.
He wants to badly to corrupt him.
A bubble of laughter rises up his throat but he squashes it down and brushes his gloved hand over his thigh, noting the tightness in his groin at the thought of the Batman being right there, in the same room.
It's almost too much to bear.
The occupant of the seat beside him casts a sideways glance at him when he bobs his knee to the rhythm in his head. He flicks his tongue at her and she turns away. He grins. He's always grinning.
His eyes flicker over the others in the room, restless and needy.
Inside, he's cackling.
They want his head. Or his balls, whichever, but he's not going down alone. He'll take the Batman with him.
He wants the Batman to stand up. He wants to introduce a little anarchy to the immoveable force that has obscured his work.
Fuck the Batman. I'm the Joker.
They forget that, these people of Gotham. They need reminded, sometimes, that the Batman – fucking Batman – is just a man beneath his mask.
And men are corruptible.
His jaw twitches and he looks to Harvey, Harvey, Harvey Dent and smiles. He's not the Batman, but he'll certainly do. He sniggers and the woman beside him turns to him and again and he bears his teeth at her in a grin. It takes her a moment to look away.
They shackle Harvey Dent and Joker grins; the white knight isn't the dark knight but he'll have his fun with him none the less.
It's more than he deserves.
Gotham deserves better – better than the Batman. Better than the mob.
They deserve a little fun.
He stands to leave with the others, and for a second he catches a familiar stare across the room. He grins at the man he's seen in the papers, dreamed of at night and leaves.
Bruce Wayne may not be the Batman.
But he'd fuck him none the less.
None of them are what he really wants; not the Batman.
They're just stepping stones 'til he gets there.
As he clamours onto the waiting bus, he can't help his gleeful smirk.
And, ohh, he's getting close.
--
Sitting at a desk, Jim Gordon wishes the sun would dip below the horizon and the Batman would appear on his rooftop, dark as the night, silent as the dawn.
But it's only gone noon and Gordon has a long wait ahead.
He doesn't believe Harvey Dent is the Batman; how could anyone? He's not sure anyone on the force believes it's him either. The guy may be two faced but he's not a split personality.
He wonders what the Batman thinks about Dent giving himself up. If he'd been there, Gordon wants to believe he'd stand up and protest. But no one had.
Gordon wonders if maybe the man behind the mask isn't as noble as his hero counterpart.
He's often wondered who the man is but he's resigned himself to not knowing; he's not sure he wants to know.
He wants to believe the Batman is the hero he wants him to be and giving him a name other than his persona would take that away. Because then he'd just be a man, dressing up as a bat.
And someone who does that seriously has issues.
He sighs and looks to the clock. Another minute wasted.
He wonders if the Batman and Dent are working together but he quickly dismisses that thought; Dent doesn't trust anyone and Batman doesn't need a side kick.
He wants the Batman because he wants to go home to his wife. He wants the Batman to swoop in and save the day – or Dent, whichever – so he can go home and reassure his wife he's not dead.
He wants the Batman because it means the madness that is the Joker will end.
It's startling, the contrast between the two and Gordon wonders if maybe the Joker made himself to be the exact opposite of the Batman; specifically created to rattle the Batman's cage.
Batman has rules; the Joker has none.
He doesn't dare think of what might happen if the Joker gets the Batman; if the Batman breaks his rules.
Because Batman is only a man, and he's corruptible. He's not impenetrable, he's not immoveable.
Gordon hopes Batman is strong enough.
--
Bruce forgets sometimes that he is actually the Batman. For so long, he wanted him. He wanted the Batman because he represented purpose, hope, fear and loyalty all at once. He embodied the good people of Gotham, united them under one symbol and it was more than he had ever even dreamed of when he thought up the Batman in a dark cave in the underbelly of Wayne Manor.
Now, a year later, he still wants the Batman. He still wants the power, the fear, the hope that Batman can be – the things Bruce Wayne can never be. He wants him because he wants to believe that Gotham is still redeemable, still good and honest and can be what his parents wanted it to be.
He wants him because he doesn't have anything other than the Batman.
It's who he is. It lets him be the person Bruce Wayne hides. It lets him do the things he knows no one else can do.
He wants the Batman because he gives him purpose.
Bruce Wayne wants Batman because he hides Bruce Wayne's faults, his weaknesses.
And of them, there is plenty.
--
He treads softly into the lounge, both of his suits long forgotten. He wears jeans and a plain black tee and she thinks it's been years since she has seen him like this; unkempt and tousled, almost relaxed and carefree.
The way Alfred's gaze lingers on him makes her wonder if he ever is like this anymore.
"Bruce," she says quietly as he stands above her at the couch. She flicks the ridiculously large television off and turns to him as he perches on the end of the cushion. "I didn't think you'd be back tonight."
He doesn't say anything, just watches her and she can feel liquid warmth pool between her legs. He's always intense but there is something about the way he is looking at her – desperate and needy – that aches her insides.
Alfred quietly slips out of the room but Rachel barely notices.
"Come to bed."
It's a command not a question and when Rachel looks out to the city, she can see the ebony blackness fading to charcoal dawn. He stands and holds his hand out to her, knowing she will not refuse him.
He grips her hand when she slides it into his and turns, drawing her with him to the bed he wants to share with her. The lights are dim and the balcony doors are open, a cool breeze wafting her loose night gown around her legs.
She knows what he wants though he doesn't ask.
She touches his chest with light fingers and he closes his eyes, flattening her hands against his chest for a moment before he reaches out and draws her to him.
The kiss is needy with want but filled with passion and love, slow and meandering though hot and over powering. His strength is comforting and startling as she feels his muscles against her, warm and solid against her cool skin.
As they shed layers and masks and barriers, she knows the man who moves above her is Bruce Wayne, not Batman and she is glad.
It is Bruce who whispers words into her ear as they fall against one another, breaking, bending, loving. It is Bruce who stays with her until morning, cocooned around her back.
But it is Batman who leaves her in bed, ready to hand himself in.
It is Bruce she has always wanted, not the suit he wears at night.
She knows he's neither one nor the other; both a mask to hide who he really is.
She knows the man she wants no longer exists.
After he leaves, she cries.