Look at me actually following through and updating a story. I'm so proud of myself! I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's been my favorite to write so far.
Note: I kind of just wrote this one and posted it very quickly so I apologize for any roughness this chapter might contain.
Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't make money.
Rating: M for a lot of adult themes and nudity. Lol
Chapter 3.5: Gratuitous Shower Scene
In the end, Batman ripped the rucked up clothes off of the unconscious Joker. Try as he might, the clothes peeled more blood and newly forming scab off the man than what was safe. He hadn't any plans to wash them, either. Neither Bruce nor Batman was much for laundry. No time. Or patience. Or desire. Also, despite his remorse over the current situation, he relished the thought of all the anger that plain, simple clothes would cause his nemesis.
He tried not to focus on the vulnerability of his nemesis. Batman would personally ensure his own death before he ever allowed himself to be caught within his enemy's clutches in such a way. Lucky for the Joker he was the good guy.
He had all of the clown's clothes peeled off and in a soggy pile in the bathroom floor within a minute. The heap of clothes was shocking to behold; what once were bright purple yellow, and green fine fabrics were now browning, crusty rags. But the clothes were not as shocking as the Joker himself.
Bruce had always wondered if the madman's outrageously white skin was make-up or an (un)natural pigmentation condition. Now, as the detective was stepping back from the limp form propped up against the rough cave wall in the shower location, he could see that every inch of his enemy's skin held the same ghostly pallor. If he hadn't just felt the clown's breath on his neck when he tugged the bedraggled slacks off, he would swear that the man was long dead.
He also noticed that no hair grew on the Joker's body except for his head. He ignored the heat in his face at this discovery. Whatever had happened to this creature to make him the way he was must have seriously damaged his anatomy. And his mind. The Batman forced himself to turn away from the nude form before him and focus on readying the water temperature and pressure from the rain faucet. He did not want to take any more of the Joker's blood than had already been exsanguinated.
When the water was at temperature, the faucet activated itself and Batman was confronted with an unforeseen problem. He was being soaked along with the Joker. With a quick click at his neck, the cape dropped heavily to the floor. He couldn't afford any other comfort. If the Joker woke up from the water then he had to be ready for combat.
Though the water only reached the clown's bottom half, the water was already rushing down the drain in dark reds and browns. Batman allowed his eyes to once again drift to the unconscious man on the floor of his shower. He focused mostly on the color of the water, but knew he had to stay wary of any signs of life coming from his enemy. The Joker was known to play games. It was his way.
It was only when the warm water was beginning to run clear again that he focused on the skin of the Joker's legs. What the detective had once thought was dirt was now revealed to be old scars and bruises still healing from past fights with him and other, unknown antagonists. Batman wondered who was crazy enough to attempt combat with the Joker…other than himself. He was sure that the different stages of healing were not all correspondent from his encounters only. Despite himself, a flare of rage shot through him at the thought of his nemesis being attacked by anyone else. The Joker was never going to reform if he was constantly being reaffirmed by more violence from others.
The water was running clear now.
Bruce crept away from his vantage point of the clown and gingerly picked the limp body up under his armpits from behind, lifting him from against the wall to a nearly standing position. Then he carefully tipped the man's head back against his shoulder and dragged the body to fully encounter the running water.
It was difficult to have the battered face so close to his own, but it was also the only way to ensure the Joker did not accidentally drown. Faint breath was hitting his cheek again as he propped the form against himself with one arm, freeing the other to gently wash the superfluous fluids from the pale chest.
He tried not to dwell on the highly irregular situation he had put himself in as he finished gently scrubbing away the blood without adding to the bruising or lesions. Then he stepped further into the flow of water to rinse the green hair trying to stick to his Kevlar. He turned the clown's face further towards his own to keep water from finding its way down unwary cranial passages and tried to rub some of the dried blood from the green curls.
His gloves couldn't get through the thick tresses without being caught in the curls by the spikes and batterangs embedded in the Kevlar. Irritated, he gripped one finger in his teeth and pulled the offending glove off with a quick yank. His rough palm looked dark and weathered, and almost old against the Joker's pale skin.
He tried to ignore the question of age that their flesh brought up, and clumsily raked his fingers through the Joker's hair. The clearing water immediately darkened again as clumps of old blood washed out and onto the floor, then brightened as the disturbance reopened some recent injuries to a bright crimson. The color rushing down the drain in the floor almost matched the slightly smiling lips resting against his armored chest. Afraid of blood loss, he pulled the two of them back out of the flow of water and tilted the clown's face up towards his own.
The swelling was decreasing slightly from the warm water, but his face was still ghastly. Batman took his ungloved hand and made a textural examination of the facial injuries. The Joker's nose was broken and slightly crooked. The detective could feel the crack high in his enemy's cartilage. The wound was also blackening the pale man's eyes, but no other injuries seemed to be present above the mouth.
A knot twisted inside of him when he began to feel the contour of his enemy's lips with a bare finger. They were chapped and split in many places, all at various stages of healing. And there was the one swollen gash still bleeding from their altercation earlier in the evening. The same side was also swollen to an alarming size from the destructive loss of teeth Bruce had provided. With gentle fingers, he softly rubbed the blood away from the Joker's lips and chin until the pale skin was once again predominant on his face. Blue and purple were also prevailing shades on the side of his face.
Batman was making one last compulsory search of the battered face with his fingers when he felt the previously limp body stiffen. His eyes darted from the ruby lips and up into wild green, widening eyes as he jerked his hand away from the madman's face.
Joker's body was taught as a bowstring in his arms. Batman watched the green eyes slowly focus on his face.
And the two stared at each other for an endless moment.
"Fuck…"
The rough, breathy word uttered by the Joker immediately broke any spell that had temporarily transfixed the two men. Joker lunged, swinging his free arm over to punch his enemy, and the Batman let him go. He inwardly winced when he heard a sharp crack as the Joker hit the floor. He had landed on his coccyx and immediately curled up on his side in a ball, wailing.
Bruce sighed in resignation. He just couldn't do anything right tonight.
Treating the Joker as a wounded animal, he crouched down to make eye contact with the cowering man. Hesitantly, he reached out and put his ungloved hand on the man's shoulder. The action caused both men to start in surprise. The detective had forgotten about his glovelessness in the action of the previous moments. He decided to work with it. "Joker, I'm not going to hurt you," he rumbled deliberately.
"Fuck you," the madman spat, shrugging off his hand, "Whadyoo fuckin' doo a' me?"
Hateful, accusing eyes met Bruce's in a challenge. Guilt turned to indignation at the implied accusation being thrown by the wild, green glare. "I cleaned you up, psycho," he replied bitterly, and tried to inch closer to the increasingly agitated looking clown. "You need to hold still and let me help you, or you're going to make things worse."
The Joker did not hold still. He pressed himself flat against the rough corner of the shower wall and curled in on himself tighter, hissing with every inch that Batman closed. "Imma kill you," he jeered, "Imma rip yur froat out and bathe innur blood."
Bruce let him talk, and ignored the words. If words helped the Joker cope he could do all the talking he wanted. What the Dark Knight didn't like was the way sharp emerald eyes darted over the room looking for escape. He hadn't locked the door to the apartment when they had entered earlier. He hadn't had a free hand. Now he regretted it deeply.
He was further troubled when the jeering stopped and a huge grin plastered itself onto the pale man's face. He was so close to the Joker that he could nearly grab him; he just needed a few more inches.
"Like wha'you see?" the madman's high voice cooed through the terrifying grin, stopping Batman in his tracks, "You wanna hurt me, Ba'man? You wan' me to scream?"
Revulsion coursed through the detective. What had this madman lived through? He opened his mouth to attempt another reassurance, but was cut off by high, reeling laughter.
"Well I won', Bat'man! I'll only laugh! Ha ha ha hee hee hee…"
And the wailing reached a crescendo, echoing madly around the cave walls. Batman finally lunged at the Joker, grabbing him around his pale, bare arms and tackling him to the floor. His prisoner took most of the force of the impact and went limp once more.
Bruce held himself atop the Joker for several moments judging whether the man was playing at unconsciousness or not, before finally relinquishing his hold. The pale body toppled once again, sprawling in its final position. He watched it for a moment before burying his face in his hands, letting the cooling water rush over his armored body.
Rape and sexual abuse make me sick with anger and disgust. That being said, there has got to be some fucked up shit in the Joker's past.
This started out as a very short ficlet inside the fic (hence chapter 3.5), but man did it grow!
Note: The body hair thing. This is just an assumption on my part. It sort of makes sense, right? If you know anything about the character that's different, please let me know. In fact, if you know any good Joker info websites. Everything I know I learned from comics or movies. I certainly don't know much, much less everything. Send me some good links!
Note Note: Just watched Rise of the Guardians for the first time. Why is there not more "black ice" fiction out there? If you know any good Jack/Pitch stories please send me the link to those, too! Much appreciated!