The Dying Flame Burns the Brightest

Batman was dead, that's what the papers said. Joker rarely picked up a newspaper. He didn't know what made him pick one up today of all days. Something told him to, and Joker wasn't one to deny his sixth sense.

It wasn't supposed to end like this! No! If either was to die it was to be at the others hand! How could batman go and get himself killed for the sake of these petty people! How could they mean morethan him! Joker his greatest rival!

Once Joker had thought of Batman and him as some form of twisted lovers in his twisted brain. They fell in to a pattern, Joker would cause ruckus and Batman would come running. He would ruff Joker up a bit, and there was no denying that Joker loved it. But they were never suppose to die!

Standing there admiring his work suddenly Joker felt a hit from behind. Batman's hard fist collided knocking the breath out of Joker. He hit the ground hard, blood squirting from his nose. Batman was on top of him in seconds. How good it felt, that brute strength pressing down on him. Joker gasped as Batman turned him over. Laughter escaped from his scarred lips as the man proceeded to knock the stuffing out of him. Each hit excited something in Joker. Every punch sent his dizzy mind in new directions.

Ha! But he was not a man to lay still and let Batman handle him. Joker drew a sharp dagger and hacked at Batman's shoulder. Batman quickly drew off him. His gloved hand non-to-gently forced the dagger out of joker's hand. "So you want to play ruff?" That deep voice rasped in his ear. Joker's body shook with the feeling of the man so close, so seductive. Then Batman roughly pushed Joker's hand to the hard ground, palm open. Hot waves of sensation rocked Joker as Batman plunged the dagger in to his open hand. Pain and pleasure clashed in a harmony of screams.

He would come Joker decided. The bat couldn't be dead. Would he really leave Joker for the protection of those people? No! Joker scoffed waving his hands in frustration. He surveyed the latest scene of madness. It was beautiful, flames licked at the orphanage. The one where that pesky police man who worshiped the bat grew up. The fire was entrancing! He danced to the uncontrolled rhythm of the flames.

He was so immersed in pleasure that he had forgotten the school bus of children. But one of the little brats began to scream. Oh how he loved that sound of fear! The bus was perched on the edge of the bay, one little push and bye bye baby boys! Off to feed the fishes they would go!

On the other hand there was another school bus, perched precariously on his right. This one was filled with the occupants of the old folk's home! What fun! The old verses the young! Who would he push?! Choices! Choices! But this was different. He had set up a temporary site in which people would vote on who should go down. The choice was simple but he wanted Gotham to see that some on out there would make it. Of course, if no one stepped up they would both go down, such a classic, but it never got old.

The results didn't matter this time. The outcome was not the statement. No he wanted the Batman, no one but the Batman would dare to approach him. He had to be stopped and Joker was sure that Batman, dead or alive, would rise up from where ever his hiddey hole was and tackle Joker to the ground. Even if Batman's corpse lay leagues under the ocean he would drag his sorry ass up from the waters to stop Joker.

But the Bat didn't come. Joker waited and waited. An hour past the time he set and nothing. He didn't even bother to look at the answers, they didn't matter. He didn't even have the heart to show the camera set up, the people waiting at home for someone to stop him. It didn't matter anymore. nothing mattered. Batman had failed him. Joker turned his back on his audience and slowly pushed both the busses over the edge. Not even the screams could satisfy him, not the plunk of the bus disappearing beneath the surface, not the silence. Where was the Bat?

He turned back to the camera. "You really are selfish Batsy!" He called out, Batman wasn't dead he was hiding, he must be! "You just let 55 people die just because you pretend to be dead. Well wake up Batman! I will kill this whole city if that's what it takes to bring you calling again. I know you're out there Batsy! You're watching this right now! HA HA HA! And you won't reveal your fake death! Not even to save these people. Did you finally grow tired of the games? Tired of saving a people who count you among the villains you bring to justice? So how many of their innocent corpse will it take you to come out of hiding? Let's find out." Joker smashed the camera efficiently cutting off the feed.

The thought of all the terrified faces brought no pleasure to Joker, for once he wasn't sure if Batman was watching. How could he die on Joker?! NO! He needed to be alive! Even if he was blown to a million pieces Batman had no right to give up on him! He just couldn't be dead! He needed to be here to stop Joker, to save his people! He couldn't just give up his duties as Batman in death! No not even the cold sleep should stop Batman from coming and stopping Joker, saving him. Joker needed to see Batman again, he needed to know that Batman felt the same need.

It was unfair! How could Batman give up in him?! The game wasn't over yet! How dare Batman stop fighting! He was the immovable object he couldn't cave in! A sound, like a strangled cry, escaped Joker's mouth. Batman had given up on him. He had died for the city leaving Joker to suffer his absence. That was the end. Batman never came, Joker sat there for some time. Batman had given up, chosen a heroic death over Joker. He was really dead, not coming back.

The fire behind him caught the Joker's attention. Fire. Maybe Joker should give up too, maybe he should just never come back. Fire, It was Batman's end it would be his, right after he detonated the few bombs he had set up around the city. Joker pressed the trigger. The booms resounded throughout the city as he stepped calmly in to the flames, they consumed him, making him dance in agony and scream with raw pain, if he had known how much it would hurt he would have done this a long time ago. Joker died, standing up right in the flames, laughing, thinking of Batman.

The newspaper shook in Bruce Wayne's hands. A familiar fury over took his being. Joker was back! He was killing again! Demanding Batman show himself or he would kill all of Gotham. Bruce read on and as he read his hands slowly unclenched. The fire dancing in his eyes slowly faded. He closed them and dropped the paper.

Joker was dead. The clown walked in to a burning building, fire just like the Batman. No one had found the body yet but something in the small part of him that was still Batman, Bruce knew Joker was truly gone. A single tear made its way down his cheek, he didn't wipe it away. Bruce let Batman take over and remember for the last time.

It was the rush of the chase, like the air whooshing passed him. The soft flesh of the joker's head as he swung at it, forcing the smaller man to the ground. The feel of his breakable body beneath him. So slender, so tender. The fury trapped inside him longed for the Joker. It wasn't even for the crimes he had done that Batman sought this man, Batman mused as he straddled the Joker banging his head over and over against the concrete.

No he loved to release all his pent up anger on the clown, all the Joker did was laugh and laugh, making Batman even angrier. He loved it, the adrenaline pumping and his heart thumping to the rhythm of Joker's head on the hard ground. But he always stopped. No matter how far he went, beating the Joker within an inch of his life, Batman would never kill him. Part was his morals but another part was more twisted. He loved to beat the Joker. It gave him a sense of dominance he craved. No matter how many sick and twisted experiments Joker preformed Batman always ruined them and then proceeded to crush the man. It was his release, the one person who Batman could truly be his sick and twisted self with.

Batman dawned his costume once again. For the last time. He flew to a place, a place he had never thought he would visit again. High above the city Batman stood looking at the roof. He bent down and traced a finger over the dents and cuts only he and the Joker knew were there. The greatest battle and the place of their first kiss.

Batman sat and thought about the Joker. It was almost surreal. The Clown was really dead, dead and gone. Batman would no longer need to come to the rescue of those fallen in to the Joker's hands. Batman would no longer have to beat the man up and drag him away. He wasn't sad, as he should be, or angry, as he might be. No.

He was at peace, listening to the sounds of the night. He knew that another villain would rise and so would another hero. They would replace Batman and the Joker. Gotham would live on. But Batman and Joker would not. It didn't matter the crimes or the good deeds. He had Joker had shared something…. something more then most people share. Possibly it was the understanding, the understanding that they both liked to pretend to be above the normal people but in the end they were only human. These thought brought him back to the scene on the roof.

Had it really been a kiss? Batman pondered now. Not technically. Their lip's had brushed in the tangle and Joker had forced them together. But Batman hadn't pulled back; he roughly slammed his lips to the Clown's showing him who was boss. It was another challenge, Batman hadn't thought on it till afterwards. Was it really a kiss? Did….did he possibly feel more for the freak?

But now with Joker's death weighing on him Batman didn't ponder these questions. No he would never know what he had truly felt for the Joker, but that was okay. He didn't need to know because this was the day Batman died. Finally the part of Bruce that held on to the man could let him go, no more Joker to hunt down. In a way Joker's death brought around Batman's, but that didn't matter either.

He took one last look at the city and jumped feeling the rush of the wind one last time Batman died, brave and sullen faced, thinking of Joker.

They were gone forever.

The glare of the sun made it hard to see the man in front of him. Bruce tilted his head up and tried to see the figure addressing him. "All the seats are taken and you're all alone, would you mind me joining you?" The voice was kind but a little worn, as if he had had a cold recently, or been screaming.

"Sure." Bruce shrugged. The cafe was a packed place and he wouldn't mind some company. The man sat, awkwardly and stiff, looking around uncomfortably. Bruce still couldn't see his face very clearly but the man looked pale and thin.

"I'm not used to being around so many people." The man confessed shyly.

"I've been pretty lonely these last few weeks my self." Bruce looked down at his plate remembering the Batman. The other man smiled.

"Maybe we can be lonely together." There was something familiar in that smile, something old and yet new, different. It was a small smile, but it felt like it should be large. Bruce smile back, not his wide billionaire smile. A soft laughing smile that met his eyes. Yes there was something so familiar, like a lost childhood friend. A memory he couldn't quite place. Something about those lips, as if something was missing. Something wasn't right about him but every thing was so perfectly normal.

"Do I know you?" Bruce asked. The man chuckled, softly. So softly, and Bruce found him self thinking the man had no right to sound that soft.

"Can't say I remember. Surly I would remember such a striking man as you, but you will have to forgive me if we have met before my memory is a little faulty at times." The teasing in his voice was harmless, but it felt like a challenge, a familiar challenge.

"I'm Bruce." He reached his hand across. The other man took it. "Do I get a name?" Green eyes met Brown.

"You can call me Jack."

Authors note- For those who don't know Jack is like Joker's alias. In this story I'm using Bruce and Jack as Batman and Joker's human side, multiple personalities if you will. Jack is to Joker and Bruce is to Batman. Reviews feed the starving writer!