Chapter 2 – The Web We Weave

There was a benefit at Gotham's Modern Art Museum the following afternoon and it was expected that Bruce Wayne would attend, seeing as how he had bestowed upon them a large sum of money, an amount that made it possible to acquire a Duchamp and two Kandinskys. As usual, the curators were forever indebted to his generous gift but by now it was old hat for Bruce. In the beginning, he liked the feeling of giving back to Gotham what they gave to his family. The Wayne family fortune grew in heft based solely on the prosperity of the city itself; returning the favor was what got him through the days. And of course by night, it was something else.

Bruce milled about the crowd of fancily dressed upper-class socialites, eavesdropping on conversations. Melinda Mayberry tapped him on the shoulder just as Bruce was reaching for another glass of wine from the maitre de's tray.

"Mr. Wayne! We want to thank you – all of us at the museum – for your kind and generous …" she paused as she too saw the item that Bruce was bewildered by: a very small playing card on the bottom of his glass. He quickly slipped it into his pocket and covered, "Well, it was really no problem. I love this museum and want to see it stick around. For my children, some day." Bruce gave her his best millionaire's smile, somehow indicating she should forget about what she just witnessed and move along.

Surveying the room for potential hangers-on, Bruce slipped out a stairwell door and made a run for the car. The small detail that Ms. Mayberry failed to see was that the little card bore a message. He ran it through his brain with each downward step he took. What was the Joker doing this time? It was a location – 255th Street & 12th Avenue – and it said, "Come on down and see me."

The engine of the Lamborghini roared to life and Bruce made his way to the Batcave; he was in no condition to go chasing after the Joker in suit and tie. With a quick change he switched vehicles to the Batcycle and headed south. Admittedly, Bruce wasn't sure what the Joker was playing at, stealing the searchlight right off the top of the Gotham PD building. He didn't see the point. There had been that one time in which Batman answered the call but it wasn't Gordon sending out the signal but Joker himself. But this? Went beyond that. Of course, nothing Joker did had a point and that… was the point.

When Batman reached his destination, he conspicuously hid the Batmobile and found a way around the huge brick building at the corner of 255th.

*******

It was a foolish mistake, one Bruce rarely made. But he did not think that the Joker would have had so many thugs waiting for him outside the building. And now he found himself stretched to his literal limits, ropes around his wrists behind his back and strung up on a rod, like a sacrificial offering to the gods of irony. His legs were spread wide to give him solid ground but he was useless to move.

"Ooh hoo. This is too good, too good. You fools actually pulled something off right." Joker said towards his henchmen who were scrabbling with each other in the corner, fighting over a wad of bills he'd just tossed them. "Now get the hell out of here!" he shouted, pointing to the door. Batman's head hung as a result of his uncomfortable position but also not to give Joker what he wanted: acknowledgement.

With a tilt of his head, trying to get a good look at the tied man's face, Joker inspected him, "Look at me." But it was more of a request than a demand. Bruce lifted his head slightly and looked in the Joker's general direction, but not at his face, his eyes.

"I don't see why I'm here." Batman confessed.

"You're my biggest foe – my symbiotic lifeline! I live to fight you and vice versa and when given the opportunity to change things up, I take it. And isn't this a new and interesting situation?"

"What do you want me to do? What purpose could I possibly serve you like this?"

"Do you want the Batsignal back?"

"Well, yes…"

"Then you pretty much do what I want. Because if you don't, there's more at stake than a piece of equipment. Come to think of it… there already is."

"Whaddyou mean?"

"Well uh, "Joker paused and fingered a small piece of paper tucked into his breast pocket. "I have here the location of the hostages."

"What do you want then?"

"Funny that you ask…"

Joker was giving him a strange look – one Batman had not previously seen, not ever. It was more curious than angry or devilish. His face seemed to have softened almost; some of the harshness was gone.

Joker's long thin fingers trailed up Batman's torso, over the hardened lines of the body armor until he reached Batman's chin and titled his head up. In extreme anger, Batman tried his hardest to pull free but merely rattled the steel pole against the rafters of the warehouse. "Easy, tiger." Joker soothed. "What do you want from me, Bats? Honestly?"

With an exasperated growl he answered. "I want you to be off my streets, to be in Arkham permanently." He paused and pulled away from the Joker's hand, which had crept in to cup his chin. "I fear that this is an end I will never see."

"And you may be right." Joker sighed and sat on a pile of sandbags. "This is a lonely life, Bats." Bruce was inside his own head, plotting a way to somehow escape this predicament and was completely thrown off by this admission by a criminally insane adversary. He continued, "I only want what any man wants."

Taking off his suit coat and hanging it on a hook, Joker slanted his head down to get a look at Batman's face, hoping for some kind of reaction. "I want to show you something." Joker bent within inches of Batman brushing his torso against the other man's extended side, and untied his hands. Now freed, Batman's initial thought was to punch him in the gut and make a run for it. But he was interested to see what Joker was talking about. Taking a seat on a pile of sandbags, he watched as the Joker began to unbutton his purple silk shirt. He only did the top two buttons then pulled the left lapel enough to reveal his pectoral. Etched in black ink was a quarter sized bat tattoo. At first Batman was livid but also, confused. "Why? After so long being polar opposites, why would you... WHY?"

"I started off with nothing. Then you came along and I have all this to show for it." He waved a hand around and Batman wondered to which he meant, seeing as how there was nothing more than a few boxes and some run-down machinery in the far corners of the warehouse. "I have you to thank."

Still looking Batman dead in the eyes, Joker vaguely touched the tattoo with a finger then continued to unbutton his shirt, which now hung open, exposing a pale yet muscled torso. Batman was surprised by this but tried not to show it.

"I've said it before and I will say it again: You complete ME." Joker took this opportunity to reclose the gap between them, placing his forearms on Batman's shoulders. Batman shoved the man to the ground, then picked him up by his shirt, delivering a sharp punch to his jaw. The Joker laughed as he fell. Batman leaned in and placed another punch to the opposite side of his face then finished with an uppercut, throwing Joker back onto another small pile of empty boxes. This only made him laugh more. "How hard do I have to beat you before you don't think it's funny anymore?"
"No amount of punishment you serve me will ever stop it from being funny," the Joker said, wheezing.

Batman served him a kick to the ribs and then the Joker's laughing became softer. He lay there breathing heavily for a moment as Batman leaned down to inspect the man, now bleeding profusely, hair disheveled. Caught off guard, the Joker snaked a hand up and grabbed Batman by the cape, pulling him down top of him.

"Come on Bats, you like giving it to me as much as I like receiving it. I think we both know what's going on here." Then the Joker pulled him in for a searing kiss, the kind that teenagers steal in the dark: rushed and crushing, hard and urgent. Bruce pulled away instinctively: a million thoughts raced through his head, not least of which was the question of his own sexuality. For all the women that Bruce Wayne, millionaire had been with, none had satisfied him quite completely. Not the way his night-time heroism did. It fulfilled a desire he couldn't put into words. But he was only human after all. The serious, sane part of his brain was telling him to beat the Joker to a bloody pulp and go save the hostages. Yet the tiny insane portion - the one responsible for the ultimate decision to don a mask and cape and go gallivanting about Gotham in hopes of salvaging her soul - was winning out now. He reclaimed the Joker's lips - the other man approving with a groan - with less force this time as each man found their rhythm, familiar moves just not with each other.

Batman broke the connection and began trailing a hand down the Joker's chest and stomach, tracing the fine lines of each sinewy muscle. The Joker closed his eyes and arched his back with every touch. "Gloves" he demanded. Batman placed his hand back to the Joker's mouth where, with his teeth, he loosened each finger, then removed the glove entirely, tossing it over his shoulder. Hand now freed, Bruce went back to exploring the pale features of the Joker's body, tracing the details of the bat tattoo.

"So you're not mad?" the Joker asked. "I was at first." Batman knew - without ever truly thinking or picturing it - that it would someday come to this. There was always that tension, with each confrontation, each fight, each jail cell interrogation. There was nothing left for them to do. It was a thought he hid away deep in the recesses of his mind; brought it out only in the final moments before falling into a hard sleep each morning as the sun dawned anew.

With another bruising kiss, the Joker giggled under Bruce's lips. "What's funny now?"
"The sheer irony." The Joker laughed but was stifled once more.
Bruce's head was swimming when they reached the point of imminent decision: a police siren jolted him from his almost drunken state of arousal. He suddenly thought: how long had they been there, had anyone seen them, and hell, what about the hostages? Batman bashed the Joker's head to the floor. "What the hell was that for?"
"Are there really hostages or was it just a ploy to get me in here?"
"Oh no, there's really hostages. 35D, Roosevelt Heights apartments." The Joker grinned as only he could.
Batman delivered another blow to him but this time, it had less force behind it. "This isn't over." Batman promised as he scaled up the wall to a high window, punching it out with his boots and leaving the Joker high and dry.