It was like they were falling, deeper and deeper every day.
Their fights were beginning to mean less, to have less impact on the other.
They were pulling on the last reserves of their strengths, fighting like dying men who were too stubborn to give up. They weren't fighting, they were sitting alone in some decrepit part of the city, there masks tightly woven, but there were cracks.
The makeup peeled away and faded, rubbing off.
The black mask would slip off of bits that needed to be covered.
They were failing all of a sudden, with no one to grab onto them, nothing to balance them against the edge of the nothingness that they were becoming. The gaping blackness of their identities stripping away and leaving nothing but two men who desperately needed to change their lives.
It was yet another fight, one in which their bodies just begged them to give up quickly before they were sucked into the black.
The clown prince of Gotham, the Dark knight of the same city.
Their stories were carved along the other body, in scars and in muscle pain, and another pain, deeper than the first, one which could never be solved by a hospital or a first aid kit.
He'd told so many stories about himself that he couldn't even remember, the scars on his mouth marking him as a different person than who he had been, had started as.
He'd worn the cape and mask so long that he was beginning to lose sight of himself within the image of the city protector, the black creeping and encroaching on him every day.
Fists slamming against unprotected body, slams against a wall becoming softer, hands not seeking to cause so much pain, the fight just eventually stopping.
They were at a standstill.
Standing less than forty feet from each other, yet no closer than thirty feet, the two watched the other warily.
The blackness encroached, held at bay for a moment, as a decision was seemingly made, a thought mutually agreed upon.
Taking the first step, the man in purple and green wandered forwards, feet patting the ground softly.
The Knight held his ground, eyes a little softer now.
"Why are we still doing this Batsy?" came the demented mans whisper. "What is accomplished?"
He took another step, closing the distance as the black crept in a little further.
The Knight raised his eyes from the clowns feet.
"We're accomplishing nothing, there's nothing useful to be found here." was the harshly whispered reply. "But this city needs people to hate and it needs people to protect it from the ones it hates...We, unfortunately, fill those roles."
"They hate you too, Bats. Nearly as much as they hate me."
The Knight closed his eyes, breathing a sigh that made him sounds centuries old.
"I know they do."
The clown took another step, another inch closer as the black held back, watching this new development.
"They why fight for them?"
Opening his eyes, the Knight looked at the Clown Prince. "Because they need a hero."
Instantly a bitter reply was slung back at him. "Why do you need to be their hero? Not that I don't enjoy our dances, but why do you need to be their hero?" A nervous twitch, a tongue licking at the edges of his mouth, grease paint smearing just a little more.
The Knight took his first step forward towards the Clown.
He didn't have a reply.
The Clown stepped forwards again, now no longer far away from the Knight, instead just a short distance of five feet from him, the black that was threatening to destroy them both right behind him, another foot and it would start swallowing him.
"Bats..." he whispered, hands twisting at his sides.
With another step, it was the Knight who began the closing of the final distance.
There was no fighting left in this short distance, all that was left were masks and costumes, people they didn't really need to be.
With a final step on both sides, they were toe to toe.
"Maybe they aren't the only ones who need a hero...Maybe I need to be that hero just as much as they need me to be."
The Clown nodded, looking into the stormy blue eyes behind the mask.
The Knight looked into the bright green eyes behind the paint.
They both nodded, a mutual understanding.
The black was retreating, pulling back and allowing them to breathe easily once more.
"I'll be seeing you Bats." The Clown whispers as the Knight retreats into the darkness of the sleeping city, the very darkness seeming to have changed color.