Batman: Phoenix Rising, a batman fanfic

This is my first Batman fic. Inspired by the events of The Dark Knight, this is an AU of what might happen had Batman villain Harley Quinn stepped in to save the Joker before the SWAT took him away. Due to artistic licence, this is my Harley Quinn, and she is slightly more insane and evil then the normal version.

I apologize for the extreme OOCness of Batman and the Joker, but it was nessesary for the plot. I do not own anything, nor stand to gain anything from doing thus.

Yes, it will become Joker/Batman slash at the end, but no smut. There is violence and course language, so if you dislike anything afore mention: bugger off.

Batman: Phoenix Rising

Somewhere between the approach and the silence the SWAT team had fallen, to be replaced by a young lady in orange and black, with harlequin style deely-boppers perched on her head.

"Need a hand?" she queried, "I'll 'elp you up!"

The Joker just smiled at her, his head full of blood and his ankle numb with pain.

She announced herself as "Dr. Harleen Quinzel, but you can call me Harley Quinn" while dragging him the right way up.

Balanced on her back while Harley cut the rope, the Joker commented "Harley… Quinn? Harlequin! I like that, that's good" and he laughed, mixing together a cackle and the gurgle of blood.

"Please raise ya hands above ya 'ead and tuck ya feet togetha for the remainder of this ride" she advised, and as the Joker felt the tug of the rope disappear, he tumbled to the floor, doing a backwards summersault and attempting to land on his feet. Instead he slid to the ground, uncharacteristically dizzy.

"That's all the blood in yar 'ead," she said sternly, and the Joker licked his lips: "You some kinda doctor?"

"A criminal psychologist!" The irony of the situation made the Joker squirm with laughter. Harley smiled.

"Oi've been watchin' ya, Mistah J, and I think what'choo've been doing is all good and well, but needs a woman's touch!" It was about this time that the Joker noticed the large silver pistols strapped to the lower half of Harley's back.

"You admirin' mah babies, Mistah J? Wanna see wot they can do?"

To prove her worth, or the strength of her guns, the young lady shot a sizable hole in the concrete wall, and deftly slipped the handgun back into its horizontal holster. "Impressssive" purred the Joker, and struggled to his feet, waving off the harlequins' attempts to help him. The purple-clad trickster stood up straight, and took a closer look at his new little pet. They would clash maddeningly, the Joker concluded, and that in itself made his badly ripped face crack into a smile. She was quiet the character, from her wedged, black leather boots, striped socks and three inches of schoolgirl skirt to her striped midriff top with obi-inspired sleeves; out from with popped small white hands. He decided her face was her best feature; it was smooth, ivory pale and matched his make up (if not eccentric style) perfectly. Black around the eyes and ruby-red lips.

"Yes, "he nodded, almost speaking to himself and shuffling a hand through his greasy green hair, "You'll do quite nicely."

Harley's entire face lit up like Christmas.

Bruce Wayne slipped silently into the bath, soaking the bandages that Alfred had wrapped around his abdomen. His entire body felt like it was on fire: the nights run had not done him any good. The foresee-able future held no extravagant parties or fundraisers for the suave billionaire.

"Fox on the telephone for you, Master Wayne," came Alfred's British accent from behind the bathroom door.

"Thanks, I got it" he replied, picking up a sliver thin grey handset beside the bath.

"Please, no bad news," he mock-pleaded.

"Should I hang up then?" Teased Fox, but the usual friendly laugh didn't follow.

"He escaped, didn't he?" The line was silent and Bruce swore.

Batman stood, hunched and silent, atop one of Gotham Cities many high rise towers. Almost a week has passed since Batman's initiation from Hero to Vigilant; done by aiding in the vicious chess game set up by the Joker. Amidst the chaos; the unfair, uncontrollable chaos, Gotham's white knight had been smashed to pieces, plunging Gotham into the darkness it didn't deserve.

"Where are you?" Batman asked no on in particular: the owner of the answer to said question most likely no where near him, probably crawling like the insect he was down under the cities dirty streets.

"'E can't 'ear you" came a voice, and Batman swivelled on the spot, drawing a batarang out of his belt. She wasn't a threatening presence, but the fact that she had crept up unnoticed by the caped crusader unnerved Batman to the point of being defensive.

"Slow down there, love, I just wanna talk", so he lowered his weapon, but did not discard it.

"Mistah J seems'ta think I should introduce meeself to ya, introduce a lil' more anarchy to Batman's fragile world. So 'ere I am!" Batman didn't reply, but turned to face her, to indicate he was listening. The batarang was still between his fingers.

"Name's Harley Quinn, like harlequin," Here, she pointed to her deely-boppers with a black painted nail. The Bat nodded, "An I'm Mistah J's new assistant. See, he don't appreciate bein' set on by all them SWATs, right? He don't think you care anymore!"
"I never cared," Batman rumbled.

"Oh, "Harley's eyes glinted purple in the moonlight, "but'chou did. And do. That's why yous out 'ere."

She was smiling now, walking over to Batman with a gait only accessible to those who wear ridiculously high shoes.

"See, Mistah Batman, yous twos not all that unalike. Yous the hero, 'e's the villain. Or, you was the hero – ahahahahaha – and that said: You, Gotham's masked protector, rose like the 'uge black phoenix that you are from the ashes of a burnin' ci'y. Well, so did 'e, only 'es a great big purple phoenix, an-"

"WE ARE NOTHING ALIKE!" The Bat roared, and flicked the sharpened batarang at the harlequin. Nimbly, flipping backwards a few feet, she dodged it easily. Landing on her knee and toe, she looked up at him through a thick mess of jet black hair, her sapphire eyes square on his.

"You created him," she was serious now, and the loose tongue had disappeared, "two pieces of the same puzzle. And, Mistah Batman, this puzzle only has two pieces. You complete him, and he – even though you'll never admit it – completes you, on levels you never knew you needed. You are light and dark, sun and moon, day and night, chaos and control. You need each other, you and him, because without the other, the one cannot exist." She stopped and stood up, and smile painting her cherry lips. Batman scowled and reached for another batarang, but she was already gone. The last thing the Bat heard, before Gotham's almost acidic rain began to fall, was her happy-go-lucky voice singing "Why so serious?"

"How'd it go?" The Joker asked, almost lovingly, rotating a flick knife in his gloved hands.

"I think I 'it a nerve" Harley replied, a giggled maliciously. "'E 'as next to no control, Mistah J, the man is fine china!"

The Joker was nodding, but Harley couldn't see.

"Are you bored?" He queried. Harley grinned; "You know 'ow much I love 'introducin' a little anarchy' for you Mistah J. Wot would'joo 'ave me do?"

The Joker didn't answer straight away. A million things flew around in his addled, yet strangely organized brain.

"I think we need to send our friend a message. Something devilish, something fun. Something… new!"

"Again wit da Batman! Honestly, Mistah J, sometimes I think joo care more about 'im then ya do me!"

The Joker didn't reply.

"Why a shopping centre?" Bruce asked in irritation, hurrying into the Bat suit. "What's he trying to tell me?"

"Maybe, Master Wayne, he's not trying to tell you anything. Maybe this is just random terrorism."

"No, the Joker doesn't do random… this is something else…"

Alfred didn't respond, wondering whether it was better just to let the now dressed Batman have a rhetorical conversation with himself. The butler sighed as Batman sped off in the Batmobile, wringing his hands together slightly and wandering off to the computers, sliding the earpiece into his ear and calling Bruce.

"What have you got?"

Alfred brought the details of the shopping centre up on one screen and the record of the number plates of the shoppers cars for that day on another.

"Nothing yet, Sir, just a second please."

He started a search on the cars, looking for an important owner and likely target. He almost swore.

"It's Jim's wife, Sir, she must be shopping with the children!"

Batman swore for his butler, and pushed his foot as hard on the gas peddle as he possibly could.

"What does he have to gain from a daylight attack?"

"I don't think it has anything to do with the time, Master Wayne, but the actual date itself. See, today is the burial date for the SWAT who lost their lives due to the Joker."

"Damn it, Alfred, call Jim, and give me a route to the centre that will take me around the city and out of the eye of any patrolling officers!"

"Alrighty… and Batman – be careful!"

"Hush, hush, hush, everybody!" The Joker was singing, "Our most coveted guest will be here soon!" A few gun shots were heard and the Joker snapped his head in their direction.

"HARLEY!" He snapped, "Stop killing the spectators! There's no show without spectators!"

"Sorry, Mistah J," said the harlequin beauty, "couldn't 'elp meeself, all them squealers was getting' ta me!"

The Joker rolled his head over his shoulders, cracking joints and exhaling nosily through a wide open smile.

"You're too much fun! Sit down with the audience and watch!"

Harley grumbled, but obliged, laying her pistols across her lap and glaring at the Jokers retreating plum back.

"Now, everybody" he said, spreading out his arms and indicating a woman cowering and covering the heads of two small children. "Meet Barbara Gordon! Wife to the affable Police Commissioner! Everyone, a round of applause"

No one but Harley complied.

"CLAP!" The Joker demanded, rising up over the multitude of frightened, subdued shoppers like an angry purple wave. A few people began to obey, but stopped short as a black shadow fell over their captor.

"Batman, sweetheart! So glad you made it!"

Commissioner Gordon was sitting in a stiff green plastic seat when he received the text message on his Nokia. Several seconds latter he skyrocketed out of his chair and over the graveyard, several confused officers in tow. In the police car, he forwarded the message to several other officials in the force. They raced towards Gotham's largest shopping centre, at break neck speed, with the sirens blazing and wailing, cutting corners and mounting the footpath.

"Jesus, Batman" Gordon whispered to himself, desperate and anxious, "please, please save my family!"

"Why don't you target some one who can fight back, Joker? Leave these people alone!"

"See, Batman, that right there I just can't do. All these people with all their plannnnssss…. It just doesn't suit me. A little chaos, a little disorderrrrr, it's the only way these people and their plannnnnsssss can learn!" Seemly to prove his words, Harley randomly shot an innocent. Several clown-masked henchmen looked on from a distance.

"Harley…" The joker hissed, "What did I tell you?"

"No shootin' the bystanders?" She pouted innocently. Her eyes turned a strange shade of lilac under her fringe.

"Exaclteeeeeee!"

"Joker, this ends now"

Batman launched himself at his arch-nemesis, throwing him to the floor. Harley screeched like a vulture, attempting to intervene, and the police chose that moment to burst in through the glass doors. Several civilians attempted to flee, and were shot down in a shower of silver bullets.

On the linoleum floor of the centre, Batman and the Joker struggled and rolled, throwing punches that would brain a normal man. Harley dived in with sharpened slices of metal shaped like the symbols on cards. A spade embedded itself in Batman's leg and two diamonds impaled the tiles.

"Harley, you little sneak – BACK OFF, he's mine!" Screamed the Joker, cackling like a madman and taking a punch square in the chest. Harley didn't bother to jump after him as he rolled away. Instead, she turned on the henchmen, gutting them individually with a combination of silver metal bullets and black metal clubs, her mouth open in a grin so stretched it threatened to split at the seams.

On the ground, the two giants rolled. The god on top and the devil beneath him, if only for a second; the tables of dominance continued to turn. Suddenly they were both hit with a spray of blood that paused their battle. Batman was ripped from the thigh to the knee on his right side, and had a cut where Harley's throw had hit him. The Joker was shaking with joy and exhilaration, the mask melting off his face to reveal peach skin that only accentuated his disfigurement.

Over them, in a shadow of orange and black, stood Harley, a henchman in one hand and one of the Jokers apparently discarded flick knives in the other. The Joker stopped smiling when he realised what had transpired. The henchman had an ugly smile carved into his face, the skin flapping about, spilling blood onto the Hero and the Villain. Harley was grinning widely, glaring at her audience from under heavy set eyebrows. On the floor, legs tangled and covered in blood, the Bat and the Joke looked so… pathetic. She leaned down and tapped her ex-obsession on the side of the face, whispering "Why so serious?" Batman attempted to take a badly aimed swipe at her and missed. She dumped the lifeless body on the men and skipped off, nicking a cowering shopper across the face with a metal diamond before disappearing down a corridor. Batman and the Joker were shouted from their stunned silence by a yell of triumph. Apparently the police thought that they had won. Only for Harley's violent jealous streak had they come out on top.

"Time to go" the Joker giggled, finding his legs in the mess and rising. Batman followed. The Joker rested a hand on his black clad chest, keeping him at bay. "Until we meet again, my dear, I need to go and find me a harlequin and put her in her place!" and with that he bounded off, following Harley's path of bloody destruction. Batman took a look over the bodies – dead and alive – and turned on his heel, before the police noticed he, the most wanted man in Gotham, was within gunshot range.

Harley wasn't in any of the usual places, and the trail of blood ended at the conclusion of the shopping centres car park. The Joker was furious, which was a rare thing for him.

"Should have killed her when I had the chance," he sung to himself, hopping from the sidewalk to the road around an empty construction sight. After a while he got bored, and took the workers elevator to the top floor, standing in the open air above almost all of Gotham. From here he could see the black shape that would slowly turn into Batman the closer it came.

"You seem to be one psychopath short, Joker" he said, as soon as he'd come to a gentle stop.

"Batsy, darling, you sound tired. Sit with me!" And so saying, he took a seat at the edge of the building, dandling his legs over the abyss. The Joker knew good and well that being in this position left him wide open to an attack that would send him screaming to his death, but he also knew that Batman would never kill him. He'd already broken his single rule over the head of Harvey Dent – he wouldn't do it again. Cautiously and slowly, Batman lowered himself next to the Joker.
"A little stiff?" "Aren't you?" "Very…" The Joker practically purred, and cracked all the bones in his spine, meticulously and carefully.

"You have no idea where she is?"

"No, the little bitch has flown the coop. She's nowhere…" He drew out this last word, and turned to face his advisory. "How odd it is that you need my help. You've turned to me of all people! Why not your little friends at the police station? Oh! That's right; you're a wanted criminal now JUST LIKE ME!"

Batman's entire body clenched, but he contained his anger. Bruce Wayne was too tired to fight back. "You tell me what I'm supposed to do." He replied wearily. The Joker seemed a little put out, and he turned his painted face away from the vigilante, resting his head on the Bats well toned shoulder. Neither Batman nor Bruce had the willpower to fight back, so he just rested his head on the emerald curls of his enemy. In the distance a cloud floated ominously over the moon.

"Oh, sure, he's yours!" Came the scream of the anguished harlot as she slashed the throat of a petty criminal who'd been following her. She screamed again, and if dead bodies could cower she'd be surrounded by shuddering zombies. "I FREED YOU, I FOLLOWED YOU, AND I OBEYED YOU! YOU NEED ME!" And, stamping her feet, she left the dark, dingy warehouse and headed back to the centre of the city. If she couldn't have her beloved Joker, then no one could.

Bruce Wayne lent over the balcony of his penthouse apartment bedroom and surveyed the city below. Unsatisfied with the meagre view, he took the service elevator to the roof and walked out to the north side, staring down at the burning city. Harley had yet to surface, the Joker had all but disappeared and still the city burned. Bruce slammed his fists down onto the concrete parapet separating him from a deadly plunge and yelled in Batman's husky tenor "WHERE ARE YOU?"

"Who, me? Or her?"

Bruce swung around, surprised, terrified, confused and there stood the Joker, smiling, knowing and still.

"How did you know?" He growled, advancing.

"Uh, uh, uh!" The Joker raised his hands in defence. "You need me, remember?" But Bruce didn't stop coming, and like the juggernaut against the immovable wall they met in a crash. "How do you know?" Bruce repeated, hissing like an angry, cornered snake.

"How long did you think you could hide it?" asked the Joker, not backing down. "I crash a party at your home and you're not there? And that Rachel you seem to care so deeply for – childhood friend was she not? – Just like Batsy does! And, of course,your actions just here and now. I could have been bluffing, guessing, stabbing in the dark, but you – my lovely – just confirmed my suspicions!" The Joker laughed, and Bruce knew he was right. It was the juggernaut who backed down first.

"Listen deary," the Joker drawled, "you are the unstoppable force, yes?" Batman nodded, going along with the game, "and I am the immovable object. But Harley, Harley is the floor on which we are balanced. If she decides it, we will fall. But if one of us gives, the other man lives!" Bruce considered this for a moment. "But if one of us gives…"

"…the other will die." The Joker finished for him, singing through his nose. Bruce was silent for a moment and the Joker studied him, trying to decipher his motives, his angle and how this billionaire playboy fitted into the persona of Batman. Bruce's mind was racing a mile a minute. He'd found his limit in his one rule, the one standing moral he protected like a child. The Joker was asking for him to; once again, discard this moral at the sake of his humanity. But in order to save lives, Batman concluded, one might have to be taken. Slowly, he nodded, and looked up to meet the Jokers cold jade eyes. The Joker stepped back, held out his hand and said:

"Do we have a deal?" Bruce shifted on his feet, and took a good, long stare at the Joker. Trying to see him with eyes unclouded and from a new perspective, one that he – and the rest of Gotham – could benefit from. It wasn't easy. The Joker was eerie and disfigured, creepy and clearly insane. He had an appalling sense of fashion and his multicoloured socks were peaking out between his pants and battered, worn shoes. And the face-paint! Bruce's mouth twitched at the corner, "wait here" he instructed.

"Don't stay away too long!" The Joker called to his retreating back.

Harley side-swiped a parking meter with her stolen motorcycle, half a kilo of dynamite wobbling dangerously on the back. She was laughing the laugh of the truly lost, gripping the handle bars with alarming ferocity and paying little to no attention to her surrounding. Down went a pedestrian as she mounted the curb, screeching out a pained and psychotic laughter. Her entire life, existence and meaning had revolved the Joker since the first moment she had seen that entrancing, gorgeous face on the television. And now; NOW! Now he'd gone off with that disgusting hero Batman. Harley spat as she thought of the name. If flew past her body and hit the windscreen of a parked car, splattering like blood on the glass.

Bruce was gone mere minutes, but the Joker greeted him like he'd been gone a life time, practically suffocating the hero in a bear hug. Bruce shook him off, a look of disgust barely registering on his attractive features.

"What's that you've got there?" The Joker inquired. It was a flannel, soaked in warm water.

"Hold still please" Bruce said in a voice usually reserved for tired parents. Slowly and methodically, like he was cleaning a wound, the Batman washed the Jokers face. Away came the blackened eyes, the ruby smile and the chalk white complexion and, as it did, the entire Jokers face changed. From beneath the hideous visage emerged a young man with peachy skin covered, admittedly, in ugly disfiguring scars. There was a kind of childish innocence to the Joker now, and like when Batman becomes Bruce Wayne, the Joker was – save for the scars – barely recognizable as Gotham's resident demon. It took all Bruce and Batman's willpower and strength not to smile. Instead, he informed the Joker: "You look much better like this" and the Joker bowed his head and smiled, the scars stretching across his cheeks to accentuate his cheery disposition.

It would have almost been a nice, happy scene, save for the thundering explosion that shook the horizon of Gotham and bathed the city in a cloud of smoke.

"Harley Quinn" said Bruce's lips in Batman voice.

"Damn. Fucking. Straight." Came a rasp behind the Joker. Both men twirled from the reddening city to face the vermillion nightmare emerging slowly from the shadows, balancing on the concrete parapet surrounding the roof. In a swirl of silver and smoke, the Joker was bent double, clutching his arm; "You bitch! You shot me!" he was on the verge of hysterics, giggling and straightening himself, and then prancing around the roof like a child hyped up on red cordial. Harley didn't respond, but instead turned the gun on Bruce. "Who the fuck are you?" She was beyond pissed off. "Where's Batman!?" Bruce took this opportunity of confusion to pelt off the roof. The Joker stared behind him in dismay (Batman would never pelt anywhere…but maybe Mr. Wayne would…), before facing the harlot. "Batman's not gunna like you cheating on him! YOU SICK FUCK!" Harley began screaming random things at her former love-interest, concluding with the sentiment "You were my LIFE!" Before firing again upon the sociopath. She missed him with three shots before the fourth brushed against his arm, spraying crimson on a purple canvas. He screeched like a wounded bird, but never stopped smiling: "Batsy will come, darling, don't you worry, Batsy will come! And when he does…" But Harley interrupted him: "I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU BOTH!"

"Don't count on it" replied the shadows, and Batman leapt out, forcing Harley to retreat across the parapet, dropping her pistol on the way. She began laughing again, hyperventilating, and drawing her other pistol at the same time. Flipping lightly onto the roof, she ran to meet the Joker, who slashed at her with a flick knife. Harley countered with her heart shaped metal discs, which were met in turn with Batman's batarangs. The Joker got a shot in, spraying Harley's blood across the roof. She hissed and fired. At the close range the bullet went through Batman's armour and embedded itself beneath the Kevlar vest in his right shoulder; he stumbled and fell to his knees. The Joker backed off, and went for a small length of pipe lying alone on the roof. He ran in swinging, whistling tunelessly, and smashed the metal across the harlequins' shoulders. She gasped in pain and dropped to one knee. The Joker hit her again: "When I said to introduce a little anarchy, I didn't mean TO ME!" He hit her again, "You disobedient" – another hit – "little" – and another – "FREAK!" Harley launched herself at the Joker, armed with his forgotten flick knife, which went straight to his throat.

"Only because of you!" she hissed in uncontrollable rage.

As Harley Quinn drew back her arm for the final blow, Batman let fly the stars from his wrist gauntlet. They hit the harlot square in the neck, sending scarlet flying over the Joker, mingling her blood with his. The harlequin fell to her knees, dropping the blade, coughed up an ooze of blood that trickled over her shining lips and collapsed onto the concrete. The Joker looked up at Batman, slightly stunned, but smiling insanely non-the-less. "There goes our floor" he joked. Batman slipped off his mask, and Bruce Wayne let out a soft laugh. He helped the Joker up, supporting his good arm and applying pressure to the bleeding wounds. "We should get these checked out" he grunted, obviously in pain from his leaking bullet wound, which the Joker cast as emerald eye to. "Somehow," he licked his lips, "I think your wound might be a little more pressing…"

Bruce made a noise in the back of his throat. "Shut up. Walk."

Alfred eyed the two bloodied men sitting shirtless on the kitchen counter. If anyone knew what has just transpired, Batman would never return to his coveted status as Hero of Gotham. If anyone knew that Batman and the Joker had just stumbled into Alfred's presence leaning on each other for support; forever a vigilante would Batman remain. But as Alfred applied salve and gauze to their wounds, he was silent, and so were they.

Not much went through the Jokers mind that would have made sense to anyone but himself. Clearly, to him, this was what might be (if thought in the mind of another) the formulating of him next step – a plan of sorts – but the Joker didn't make plans – oh no. He just thought about things in one instant and acted upon them in the next. That was his way.

Bruce's mind, however, was clouded with emotion and anxiety. He saw, as if from the perspective of another, Gotham's Dark Knight sitting mere inches from Gotham's worst nightmare, bleeding but barely moving: no final blow, no weapons withdrawn. It was in this moment that Bruce Wayne – that Batman – realised that Dr. Quinzel was right… according to the Joker she was a criminal psychologist after all. Bruce dearly wanted to put his face in his hands and have the night disappear like a wisp of smoke, but he knew that would never happen. Beside him, the Joker twitched and giggled slightly as Alfred withdrew something red and metal from his side and lay it down on the bench-top.

"Harley was right…" Bruce sighed. He was staring at the clean ivory tiles below him, unfocused and apparently unaware that there was anyone else in the room; "she said that we need each other… and then she proved it."

"Light an dark, day an night, sun an moon" Alfred said. It wasn't really an answer; it was a statement, like he had known all along. "Mr. Fox isn't going to like this…" the Butler trailed off, and finished cleaning the Jokers wounds. He was done with them, and bid them adieu: "Do try and get some sleep. If you are planning on tearing each other apart, I hope it can wait till morning. Goodnight, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce opened his mouth to farewell Alfred, but the Joker got there first;

"I don't make plans!" He stated, "Nighty-night!"

Bruce slid off the counter, groaning. The Joker just watched him.

"She did know what she was talking about, then, hmm? Little Harley. What did she tell you?"

"You don't know?" The Joker just kept on staring. Without the paint he looked like a curious child, albeit disfigured with scars.

"She said what you said: We complete each other… Which is fucking ridiculous, and yet… strangely true." Bruce turned to face the Joker, who hopped off the counter-top like he hadn't had a bad night. He handed the brunette something, before sliding past him and into the lavish bed room.

"Ah… hey, where…?" Bruce looked at his hand. In it was a small metal heart, dipped in blood and looking for all the world like a chocolate-fondue strawberry. Bruce let out a crazed laugh that immediately made him feel sick to his stomach in that strange warm way that one experiences after eating too much sugar. He contemplated sleeping on the sofa, but with an exasperated sigh he changed his mind. The Joker must have known he would. He was sitting on the bed in Bruce's monogrammed indigo pyjamas.

"No purple, I see." Said the Joker, scrunching up his lips.

"No, it's an awful colour" replied Bruce, taking out some cobalt track pants from his drawers. From the bed came an obvious noise of disagreement. Brace changed quickly in the on-suite, and brushed his teeth. He wondered if the Joker ever brushed his own teeth, and popped his head out the door – almost colliding with a mop of green waves.

"Got a spare?"

Bruce raised an eyebrow. He felt, standing next to the Joker over the sink, that if anyone saw them brushing their teeth together (the Joker was not very good at it) he would immediately be exiled from Gotham forever. The thought terrified him, but at the same time relieved him. He'd have somewhere to go, some one to go with, should Gotham ever stop needing him.

"I won't stop hunting you, you know." Bruce got in the right side of the bed, keeping his wounds away from harm.

"And I wont stop terrorizing the city" The Joker laughed manically, slid into the left side of the bed and immediately snuggled up to Bruce.

"Get off me!" He snarled, and for a moment there was no movement, and then no weight on his side.

And then there were lips on his; scarred, warm, and with absolutely no idea what they were doing. A hand on his face, his undamaged shoulder – Bruce could feel the bandages on his bare skin. And then it stopped, and the weight returned to his side, one hand on his neck, the other across his stomach.

Bruce switched off the bed side lamp.

Tonight, right now, he wasn't Batman, wasn't Bruce Wayne and his company wasn't the Joker. They were just two humans; ordinary, lonely humans, who just happened to have burst, like the magnificent phoenix's they were, from the ashes of a burning city, heads and tails entwined: balanced, chaotic, fair.

Thanks for reading. Feel free to review and tell me what you think!

(Anything you didn't understand, feel free to ask also.)