Author's Note: This is a Joker/Batman/Rachael/Gordon-centric fic. These are the main characters, not the pairings haha.

Disclaimer: I disclaim.

Warnings: Swearing and violence.

Summary: "This is a delicate, dangerous situation. We are no longer in Gotham, gentlemen – this is the end of the world." The Joker's web of insanity is spun by many spiders and the alternate world that he and his foes find themselves in is just one of them. AU

Chapter Three

Abide With Me

The Joker hadn't woken anyone with a spoken word or a tap on the shoulder when he left in the morning, though Bruce suspected that he had purposefully made a lot of noise with the night grate to alert everyone to his departure. Despite his previous conviction Bruce had fallen asleep in his corner, sliding down the wall in his slumber into an awkward crouch which had given him all sorts of aches to deal with now that a cold morning was creeping over them. He stood, stretched and cracked his bones, grousing as he cast a black smudged eye over the others in the small shop. Rachael had fallen asleep behind the counter with Gordon's coat draped over her whilst Gordon had settled himself beside his four remaining men, some with their backs up against the wall of sweet racks and the rest curled on the floor. As one of the men stirred a box of Mars Bars toppled over his head.

'We're leaving – now.'

Everyone had woken at the sound of the harsh voice; they all stared at The Batman.

'Now?' said Gordon in a voice cracked from tiredness.

'Yes, now. The Joker has left. I hardly think he'll wait for us if we lose him.'

There was an unbalanced scrabbling as everyone struggled onto cold, stiff feet. Bruce noticed that Rachael looked absolutely awful, her eyes were dark and puffy and she grimaced as she shifted her weight onto her feet; her office heels were obviously causing her pain. Again Bruce felt a yearning to embrace her, but he was not Bruce today, nor would he be for a fair while so it seemed. He was Batman and Batman was not allowed to show very many feelings at all. It made him wonder, what with Batman serving as a flesh symbol; could he really afford to delve into whatever capacity for human nature he may have?

He shook his head and moved from the shop, heading in the same direction that he'd seen The Joker take and there he was, his purple coat a sharp jab of brightness in the dull shopping centre, moving edgily up one of the static escalators, though not entirely fast enough as to look as if he was trying to lose his 'company'.

Surely he's not waiting for us? Bruce pondered with distaste. He reached the bottom of the dead stairs just as The Joker disappeared from view. He had distinctly stated last night that 'we can't stay here – we'll move on in the morning.' He said 'we'. Will he tolerate us?

Bruce grunted, begrudged to remember that he could not lead the small party in this… alternate world; he had to rely on The Joker who seemed to know exactly what was going on regardless of his reluctance to give them as much information as they wanted.

He sighed as the others drew up behind him and they headed after The Joker feeling as blind as though they were wandering aimlessly through deep, foreign caves.

'Argyle Road?'

They had all followed The Joker wordlessly, perhaps terrified that if they even whispered the Infected would spring from the road drains and cracks in the walls and attack them, but now they stood still in the middle of a road, eyeing their guide with apprehension. He stood like a statue on the curb. He didn't move for several moments and the party quickly became restless.

'Is there a safe house here?' Gordon asked, clearly agitated and still very tired.

The Joker turned slowly to look over his shoulder, tapping his metal pole against the side of his thigh distractedly. There was an odd disdain upon his face that Bruce had never seen before, not an inkling of mischievousness or jest. When he spoke his voice was arctic.

'There isn't a single safe house anywhere.'

He turned and stalked along the road, each side a row of old terraced houses with varying wall styles, shabby patios and weed-choked plant troughs. He pushed open a creaky iron gate on a house marked as number thirty-five, struggling against an overgrowing creeper that had woven itself through the bars. Bruce watched, vaguely fascinated as The Joker stooped and lifted up a garish gnome, brushing around in the dirt underneath it for a second. He found what he was a looking for - a key. With slowness and care he opened the blue front door, pushing cautiously against it as if he thought there might be someone standing immediately on the other side. Bruce watched him grow tense, gripping the metal pole held at his side tightly.

'There must be someone inside,' Bruce muttered to Gordon. 'He's been here before; he knows what is going to happen –'

'The cadaver in the store…'

'Exactly.'

Then The Joker made a sudden movement, hitting against the wooden door. Gordon and his men drew their guns, prepared for the worst, wholly expecting a horde of Infected to come pouring from the threshold of the small house, though instead of backing away from the door to counter this, The Joker dived into the darkness of the house. One of the men yelped in confusion.

'What's he doing?' Gordon cried, thoroughly vexed. Bruce snarled and vaulted over the broken front wall and thundered into the house, shouting angrily.

'JOKER!'

He heard rummaging and clanking in a room at the end of the small corridor, mingled with hisses and curses. He shifted to follow the noise but was almost bowled over as The Joker came crashing through the door, not caring that he scratched the walls with the end of his pipe that he was brandishing, nor that he nearly ran straight into Bruce's fist as he leapt onto the staircase.

'Joker! What are you doing?'

The Joker did not answer as he crashed his way up the turning staircase. Bruce cursed violently, feeling uneasy at The Joker's behavior, after all he did know what was going to happen didn't he? Was something in this house not quite as he remembered from previous visits to this world?

'Joker?' The footfalls from the upper floor had died away, filling the rest of the house with silence save for Bruce's heavy, ragged breathing. A shuffle to his left made him turn sharply but it was only a tentative Gordon, standing lightly on the doorstep. Over his shoulder Bruce could see the men and Rachael, huddling and cautious beside the wall. Resisting a heavy sigh he turned and trod partway up the staircase, twiddling a switch on the side of his headpiece to amplify audio feedback. He only heard the breathing of The Joker; no one else was here except for them. He called behind him in his husky disguised voice.

'There's no Infected, it's safe.'

Gordon, the men and Rachael gladly packed into the house, shutting the door behind them and settling in the cramped living room, pulling the curtains shut. Bruce gestured for them to remain where they were as he continued the rest of the way up the staircase, listening carefully. There were only three doors on the upper floor, and although each door was closed there was the unmistakable stench of decay hanging thickly in the air. Listening intently Bruce managed to locate The Joker through a door opposite the top of the stairs. As silently as he could in his heavy suit he advanced across the landing, pushed the door handle down and sidled into the room.

What he saw did not deal him a jarring shock so much as it dealt him an uncomfortable dose of confusion. It was a bedroom, no doubt that of an adult judging by the contents. Upon the small double bed were the bodies of two people, a fairly young looking woman and a little girl, both wan-skinned in death, bloated and tainted faintly blue by the deep network of stilled veins. At the foot of the bed, his muzzle buried into the back of his purple sleeve, stood The Joker, as motionless as the death he gazed upon. Bruce couldn't tell whether or not The Joker had even noticed him entering the room, so mysteriously enraptured he was by the bodies on the bed. After what felt like too much of a long time, Bruce spoke.

'Do you know them?'

The Joker appeared to startle a little, glaring at The Batman from behind his sleeve. He frowned and nodded. Encouraged by the subtle compliance Bruce enquired further, though stayed his distance.

'Are they meant to be alive?'

The Joker didn't acknowledge this question with an answer and instead dropped his sleeve from his face and stepped around the side of the bed, leaning over to pluck something from the hand of the woman, who Bruce assumed must be the mother or perhaps the older sister of the small girl. He could not see what the object was, though he suspected that it must be a picture or a letter, for the still blood-marred face of The Joker was creased as he stared at it, his eyes darting over it as though reading something or inspecting every inch of a photograph. As though woken from a reverie he inhaled suddenly and deftly slipped the item into one of the small pockets in his green waistcoat. His dark eyes locked upon The Batman, standing across from him on the other side of the bed.

'We'll stay here tonight, and then move on tomorrow.'

'Move on again?'

'Yes,' he growled stiffly in an uncharacteristically low tone. 'The Infected will come. It's more difficult to do this with all of you following me around.'

Bruce snarled.

'How are we meant to know what to do?'

The Joker slammed his pole against the bedstead furiously, staring with that pure disdain which Bruce hadn't seen before they arrived in this London.

'As if anybody else did?'

As he spat his words– perhaps subconsciously – he gestured slightly in the direction of the dead bodies. Bruce wondered if he realised he had done this, realised that he was plainly staring at them as he marched around the bed and out of the door. Before he completely left the room he turned back and spoke once more.

'I'm sleeping up here.'

Bruce bit the insides of his cheeks until they bled as he watched the purple clown slip through another door, clicking it shut behind him.

Author's Note: Sorry this is so short. Chapter FOUR is already written, but I'm going to be mean and immature and hold it at ransom in exchange for 10 REVIEWS. Come on kids, you can do it!