Title: Everything Burns

Rating: T (for now, may increase later…)

Pairings: None

Warnings: Mild language; Angst; Violence; Gore. Read at your own discretion. This isn't for children guys.

A/N: First, sorry this chapter is late. I was in Georgia for four days and didn't have my laptop, which cut into my writing time. Plus, my muse has apparently gone and fallen in love with Sherlock because she simply refuses to allow focus on much else.

Anyway, thank you so much for all of your amazing, fantastic reviews (holy crap, there are 100 of them already!) I love you guys and sincerely appreciate you all. Thank you for your support/encouragement/reviews. You rock!

Now, onto chapter 7! Hope you enjoy! I'll try to sneak some more Harley in there (and Garcia) I'm missing them lately… Especially Garcia.


Chapter Seven: Clowns, Scarecrows and Psychiatrists, Oh My!


Previously…

Gordon's lips twitched slightly. Still the same man as ever then. Hotch turned back to face him, his dark eyes gleaming and Gordon was reminded, oddly enough, of Batman. That intense look in his eyes, that determination. It was nearly identical.

"So tell me," he said, his voice hard and unwavering as he stared Gordon down. "What's the truth?"


Gordon crossed his arms and leaned back against the building, staring at Hotch intensely, taking a deep breath. "Before I tell you I want you to understand that I have no reason to lie. Harvey Dent was a friend. A good friend, and a good man. You might not want to believe what I'm about to say, but it's true,"

Hotch frowned, now curious, and he watched the commissioner's face. It was oddly similar to what the Joker had told Reid. That he, and the people of Gotham, probably wouldn't want to believe the truth. What could be so bad that they would rather believe that their hero had murdered innocent people and very probably killed their White Knight?

"Almost six months ago, I told the Mayor and the press that Batman was the prime suspect in multiple homicides, one of which was Vincent Maroni, suspected head of the Falcone crime organization another happened to be a cop in my own unit, Wuertz… Plus Maroni's driver, and Harvey Dent himself…" Gordon paused there, looking up and meeting Hotch's eyes and holding his gaze.

"I lied,"

Hotch said nothing, nodding for Gordon to continue and explain. He already knew that, apparently, the story that he knew wasn't the truth. Now he was just waiting to hear the truth and Gordon seemed extremely hesitant to tell him that, even with Batman's apparent "blessing".

"Harvey Dent wasn't murdered. Batman didn't kill anyone. After Rachel Dawes was killed in the explosion, Dent was, understandably, angry. He knew that people in my unit had set it up - Wuertz and Ramirez – when the Joker blew up Gotham General, he got Harvey out safely before detonating the bomb. Dent found Wuertz and killed him, then he found Maroni, shot the driver of his car, causing it to crash and killing both of them…"

Gordon took a deep breath, closing his eyes, "He went after my family. Nearly killed my son, I… I begged him not to, but he… He wasn't himself. Batman stopped him and saved my son's life, but Dent fell. Broke his neck and crushed his ribcage when he landed. He was dead when we got down there,"

At this point, Gordon's voice was tight and he shifted, standing up straight, putting his hands on his hips. Hotch remained where he was, his gaze stern and steady as he waited for the story to finish. His expression didn't betray anything of what he was thinking, which only made it that much more difficult to tell his story. He was nearly as impossible to read as Batman.

"We couldn't allow the story to get out. If everyone knew what Dent had done, all of his work as DA, all the people he'd put behind bars, every case he'd ever handled would come under scrutiny. It would destroy all the progress that we'd made in Gotham. Progress that was only possible because Batman reminded Gotham citizens that they didn't have to let the criminals run their world. So we lied. Batman took the blame; I wasn't happy about it, but he was right. He could be the villain. We couldn't afford to let Dent's image as our White Knight suffer and we couldn't let the Joker get what he wanted,"

Slowly, Hotch nodded again, finally speaking, his face as still as a stone. "What about Ramirez? If she was responsible for what happened to Rachel and Dent, why didn't Dent kill her too? Why is she still on the force?"

Gordon looked down, "He didn't kill her because she got lucky," he said, "I talked to her. Dent was always flipping some damn coin and in the explosion, one side of it was burned. He used it to decide whether he killed them or not…"

"So why does she still have a job?"

"I couldn't just file a formal injunction without too many probing questions and I… I've known Anna since she was a rookie. She's a good person, Agent Hotchner. She made a mistake that cost Rachel Dawes her life, but she did it because she was desperate, threatened and backed into a corner."

Hotch's lips twitched slightly but Gordon wasn't sure if it was towards a scowl or a smile.

"Gotham PD seems to have a history of dirty cops,"

Gordon scowled then, "We've weeded out those cops, Agent, we're doing the best we can with what we have. We're not exactly being flooded with recruits; there aren't many people who want to be a cop in Gotham City,"

Hotch nodded, "I understand… And you need to understand that you can't cover this up forever,"

"I know," Gordon sighed, "But we need more time. We can't let the truth come out yet, Gotham isn't ready to accept that yet."

"And you think that's your decision to make?"

"We don't have any other choice, Agent Hotchner, what do you expect me to do? Let the Joker win?"

"The truth would be a nice start," Hotch said, his expression still as stone-like as ever. "…I need to tell my team about this."

Gordon's throat tightened. He'd been afraid of that, "Tell them, but ask them to keep it quiet, please. If there's any chance of us stopping the Joker before he tries to force us to go public, we need to take it. You understand that, don't you?"

For a moment, Hotch didn't respond at all, his dark eyes brooding. "I'll talk to them," he finally said, "I'm not guaranteeing you anything, but we need to work together on this if you want the Joker locked up again."

Gordon breathed a small sigh of relief. It was probably the most he could ask in the situation. Actually, more than he could ask. "Thank you, Agent Hotchner," he glanced down at his watch and almost grimaced.

"And now I really do need to get home to my family. I'll see you in the morning, Agent,"


TDK-CM


The Joker entered the old cargo house laughing boisterously. Sure he'd lost the seven men who'd been with him, but finding willing henchmen wasn't difficult, especially when most people wouldn't dare say no to him. And of course, he wasn't entirely alone in the warehouse anyway and his grin widened as he spotted the man sitting at the poker table.

"Ah, good 'ole Dr. Crane!" he giggled as he approached the other man. Crane was paler than he'd been several months ago and, if it were possible, even thinner. His stay in Arkham had been particularly unkind, due mostly to the fact that as the previous Administrator of the hospital he hadn't exactly made himself very popular among the other inmates. So, naturally, at the first chance he seized the opportunity and bolted from the prison – because really, that's what Arkham was.

He wasn't wearing his mask. Unfortunately, it had been confiscated when he'd been arrested and he hadn't been able to reclaim it. Unlike most people, Crane didn't flinch when the Joker sat down and leaned in close, his greasepaint smile smudged from the night's activities, oily hair sticking to his head and falling limply around his ears. Crane had seen worse under the effects of his own drugs – not much worse, he had to admit, but still.

Some small part of him wanted to know how that drug would effect the Joker. If he wasn't so intimidated by the man, he would probably have entertained that thought a bit more often. But Crane was nothing if not smart enough to know when to not mess with someone and the Joker was definitely someone to be left alone.

"I'm going to assume there was a reason you wanted to see me,"

The Joker's dark eyes were sparkling with delight, ignoring the man's question entirely. "You know, for a man who called himself Scarecrow, you're not very frightening, Doctor,"

Crane scowled and his fists clenched, but he didn't say anything, shutting his eyes for a moment and sighing. Over the last five and a half months he'd gotten to know the Joker better than most of the other inmates. Probably because the Joker was one of the few patients who came to the facility after Crane's arrest and he'd never experimented on the clown. Not that he wouldn't have if he'd been able to hold the guise of legitimate psychiatrist for a while longer. He could only imagine the things he could uncover from a mind like the Joker's.

"I didn't call myself 'Scarecrow', the name was given to me by others,"

The Joker's grin slid into a smirk and he reached into a duffle bag that was sitting on the floor near the table. "You mean because of the mask?" he asked, his voice hitting an odd pitch as he yanked something out of the bag and tossed it dramatically at Crane.

The former doctor blinked and picked it up, staring down at the mask that had become almost a part of his identity before he'd been arrested thanks to the Batman. He ran his fingers over the rough material and frowned, turning suspicious eyes onto the Joker.

"How did you get this?" he demanded.

The Joker's painted lips curved upwards impossibly and he shrugged, "The same way I got this little beauty," he said, dangling a small aerosol can between his purple gloved fingers and passing it to the doctor.

Crane blinked, "Is this mine? My drug? They kept my drug!"

For a moment he sounded outraged as he stared down at the drug. He'd figured some of his samples had to have survived after he'd been arrested, but to think that Arkham had kept them was insulting. They'd locked him up in his own fucking hospital because of that damned drug and they had the nerve to keep it? Hypocrites.

The Joker giggled at the furious look on Crane's face. On another man that look might have been scary, but Crane's gaunt face and drawn cheekbones only served to make it look a little childish and ridiculous, though none the less unsettling with his wide, somewhat unhinged eyes.

"Mhm, and might I say it works like a charm, doc…"

Crane narrowed his eyes, flipping the small container between his long fingers. "So what is it that you want?"

The Joker giggled again, smacking his lips together in a disturbing way, "I want… hmm… well, for starters, I want more."

"More? More drugs you mean? Why?"

The Joker's eyes sparkled and he leaned in close again, pushing his painted face into Crane's personal space.

"Let me worry about that, Jonny boy. I've got something special in mind for this delightful city,"

Crane sat the can aside and leaned forward himself, staring right into the Joker's eyes and fighting not to flinch back from the insanity that he saw lurking there, the unwavering madness and glee. "And just what would I get if I did give you more drugs? Everyone knows you don't do this for the money."

The Joker laughed again and the next thing Crane knew he was crossing his eyes and looking down the barrel of a gun.

"Well…" the Joker tilted his head thoughtfully, licking his lips and smacking them back together with a sickening wet sound. "For starters you get to not die…"

Crane leaned back, keeping his eyes on the gun and nodding slowly. "Fair point,"

The Joker grinned and lowered the gun, keeping one leather clad finger on the trigger for good measure. "And as an added bonus I made an interesting little friend the other day… You'd probably find him fascinating. Maybe I'll let you have some fun with him once I'm finished."

"Finished?" Crane raised a brow, though he had to admit, the prospect of a new "patient" did excite him. And was much more motivating than the gun in the Joker's hands.

"I've got my own plans for him first, Doctor," his eyes sparkled and Crane had the feeling he'd really hate to be the recipient of the Joker's attention. "So much to do. I've got to play with Batman, bring Gotham to its knees and now I've got a new and interesting playmate!"

He giggled and suddenly stood from his seat, whistling to himself as he made his way over to the ratty couch in the center of the space. "So much fun! Oh, and Crane, I'll probably be needing more men. Make some calls to your old associates. Some of them must have escaped prison!"

He flopped down on the couch, whistling and humming intermittently and Crane frowned, standing and taking the mask and drug with him, glaring at the man on the sofa.

"I'm not your lackey," he muttered.

The Joker just grinned, "Nope," he said, popping the 'p' loudly, "But you are nearly as interesting as me and you'll do what I want because you want in."

The former psychiatrist shook his head, still playing with the canister and clutching the mask between long fingers as he left. He'd been good to avoid Batman's attention so far, but he couldn't hide from the vigilante forever and the Joker was right. He wanted in. He glanced back at the couch before he shut the door behind him, spotting only the Joker's feet propped up on the arm. Sometimes he wondered at how ironic it was that the Joker would've made a very competent psychiatrist.


TDK-CM


Morgan had just dozed off when he was jolted from sleep by the ringing of his cellphone. And this time it really was his phone. He groggily dug it out of his pocket, yawning and groaning as he saw the time. It was nearly five in the morning and Garcia was calling him.

He pressed the phone to his ear and scrubbed a hand over his face, fighting back another yawn.

"Baby Girl do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Do you have any idea what I've been going through!" Garcia snapped, "I've been waiting for a call, Derek, and no one called. Why hasn't anyone called? The story about the hostage situation is on national news now! Who went in! Are they alright? What happened? WHY DIDN'T YOU CALL ME?"

Blinking a few times, Morgan's eyes fell on the still sleeping Reid and sighed heavily. At least he hadn't woken up. The nurse had been in a few times, checking Reid's vitals and making sure everything was alright. The drug had almost entirely flushed out of his system and his heart rate was closer to normal, though still a little elevated.

"I'm sorry, Princess, everything happened so fast and it was late, we didn't want to bother you at home –"

"You forgot about me?"

"No, Baby Girl, we didn't forget you. Look, everyone's fine, okay? Reid went in and he was dosed with some drug, but he's gonna be good to go in a few more hours. Don't worry about us,"

Garcia sighed heavily over the speaker, "He's alright then? You're alright? Everything's fine?"

Morgan laughed tiredly, "Yes, everything is fine, Garcia. We're all good,"

"Okay… So are you going to be heading back once Reid's released tomorrow? Or, well, today? Since the Joker let those kids go?"

The FBI agent bit his lip, his dark eyes on Reid. "…I don't think so," he said, "Hotch is determined to catch this guy and after what happened last night, I am too. We all are."

"Derek! It took months for Gotham PD to catch him! And that was only with the help of Batman!"

"I know, I know," Morgan was fighting not to nod off again, his eyes still heavy with sleep. "But we can't just leave, Baby Girl. Not now, not when the stakes are this high. The Joker nearly destroyed Gotham before they got him. They need our help."

"Fine… But you'd better not leave me out of the loop like that again, I expect regular updates. I need to know what's going on with you guys."

"Alright, we will, I promise. Now can I get back to sleep? I've got a feeling it's going to be a long day,"

Garcia sighed heavily, "Okay. Have sweet dreams my Adonis. A DON'T forget to call me later,"


TDK-CM


Bruce grunted as he leaned back in the chair. It was nearly seven a.m. and he'd only just returned to the penthouse an hour ago, just as the sun began to dust the horizon with grey and pink. His shirt hung unbuttoned, displaying a colorful patchwork of new and old bruises. There were dark splotches across his abdomen where one of the Joker's men had hit him with their rifle.

Gingerly, Bruce pressed against the bruise, biting back another grunt of pain as he did. Nothing broken, at least. And the bruise was too high up on his chest to have done any damage to his liver. Alfred had suggested he go to a doctor, a real doctor, just in case, but he couldn't risk that. He had injuries going back months that couldn't be explained away so easily and he didn't need some doctor knowing that Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy, came home every morning with a new set of bruises and scars.

"Breakfast, Master Wayne?" Alfred asked quietly, avoiding looking at the ugly bruises on the younger man's torso.

Bruce shut his eyes, shaking his head, "No, I'm good, Alfred. I just… need some time to think."

Alfred nodded quietly, not saying any of the things he wished he could say. None of the things he wanted to say. "I take it things didn't go well last night?"

"No, it went… relatively good," Bruce sighed heavily and opened his eyes, running a hand through his hair. "They got his men and the kids made it out safe, but the Joker got away."

Alfred nodded. He'd heard as much on the news the night before. Although, there was a conspicuous lack of the mention of the Batman. Apparently, Gordon and the Mayor didn't want it out there that Batman was involved in any way. Which, Alfred had to admit, was probably a good call on their part. Gotham was in enough turmoil as it was, they didn't need the conflict of their former hero helping to save the day.

"Do you remember that drug, Alfred? The drug Crane weaponized? The Joker used it last night on an FBI agent,"

Alfred frowned, "I thought the Commissioner had all the samples destroyed after they found Dr. Crane,"

Bruce shook his head, "So did I, but the Joker got his hands on it somehow. He got out of Arkham with help too. Someone at that hospital is helping him," he frowned, standing from his chair, "If I could find out who it is…"

He trailed off and winced again as he began buttoning his shirt. Alfred watched in silence for a moment.

"Perhaps Mr. Fox could be of some help with that, Master Wayne,"

Bruce smiled ruefully, "Maybe he can," he nodded, "I'll talk to him." He grabbed his coat and pulled it on, expertly controlling his features so that the pain didn't show on his face as he stretched the sore muscles to their breaking point.

"Going out, Master Wayne?"

"Unfortunately, I've got another board meeting," Bruce sighed and ran his hand through his hair tiredly again. It was difficult work, keeping up two lives. But as long as Batman was needed, he'd do it. "I might be in late again, Alfred, don't worry about lunch."

Alfred watched the younger man go and closed his eyes. Sometimes he wondered if, all those years ago, he'd known what Bruce would one day become, if he still would have promised Bruce's father that he'd do everything in his power to protect his only son. But he knew he would have. Bruce was like his own son and there was nothing he wouldn't do for him, even if that included breaking several federal laws and risking going to prison himself.


TDK-CM


Reid was gathering his things, preparing to leave the hospital for the second time. He couldn't say he would miss this place and he was certainly glad to be leaving. His muscles were still a little sore and his nerves seemed to be permanently jarred, but he was fine all things considered.

"Coming Pretty Boy?" Morgan popped his head back in the room, a smile on his face despite the worry in his eyes. "Hotch wants to talk to us. Gordon told him something last night, apparently it's important."

The younger agent nodded absently, picking up his cellphone, "Yeah, I'll be there. Give me a second, I'm gonna call Harley back,"

Morgan grinned then, "Got to reschedule that date of yours huh?"

"It's not a date!" Reid protested, frowning and blushing slightly, "We're just talking about the case, Morgan, she could help us, you know. She's talked with the Joker."

"So have we and we aren't getting anywhere," Morgan pointed out.

Reid folded his arms across his chest and frowned at him, "She's a psychiatrist, Derek. She's had sessions with him. She could help us find him and right now she knows more about him than we do."

Morgan made a face, "Fine, fine. Just hurry up, Hotch isn't gonna wait long, ok?"

Reid bit his lip and flipped his phone open, finding Harley's number there, staring at him. He felt a little nervous, despite the fact that this really wasn't a date. He always had trouble talking to women. He took a deep breath and hit the send button.

Harley answered on the first ring, "Spencer? Are you alright?"

He laughed in spite of himself, "I'm fine, yeah. Sorry about last night,"

"Oh, don't worry, Spencer, I understand. That was very brave, what you did, going in that school last night,"

Reid was blushing again and he still wasn't entirely sure why that was, "Not according to my team…" he sighed, "Um, I was just calling to see if you, uh, still wanted to go over those notes? Maybe… maybe we could meet this afternoon?"

"That's perfect!" Harley said excitedly, "I'm kind of out a job at the moment, since the hospital was blown up. We could meet for lunch, I know a nice Chinese place, say… 1:30?"

Reid nodded, "Sure, yeah, sounds great!"

"Great!" Harley sounded practically giddy, "I'll meet you at your hotel. If that's okay, I mean,"

"No, that's fine," Reid said, "But, um, I'll probably be at the MCU most of the day. We can meet at the restaurant instead, I mean, unless you'd rather just –"

"Oh, no, that's perfect. I'll text you the address. See you then, Spencer!"

Reid smiled, "Alright, see you there, Harley. And, um, thank you, again."

"Ok! Bye!"

Reid stared down at the phone for a moment before taking another breath and slipping it into his pocket. He grabbed his satchel and slipped it over his shoulder, checking his revolver at his hip and then hurrying out of the room, hoping that this would be the last time that he had to stay the night in Gotham General. The BAU was still paying for his hotel room, he'd appreciate actually being able to sleep there for once.

He nearly ran right into Prentiss and Morgan coming down the hall.

"There you are!" Prentiss took hold of his arm and started tugging him forward. "Hotch wants to talk to us. Gordon told him what happened with Harvey Dent. Come on!"

Reid blinked and glanced over at Morgan, "Gordon told Hotch the truth? What else happened while I was out?"

Morgan chuckled and shook his head, "Nothing much, Kid. Harley called, Gordon and Hotch talked and… oh yeah, Garcia called five times. She wants you to call her the second you get time."

Reid winced and nodded, thinking he'd almost rather be back in that Auditorium with the Joker than face a frantic and worried Penelope Garcia. Compared to her, the Joker was almost mundane.


TDK-CM


A/N: I know there isn't much of the rest of the team, sorry guys, I wanted to get this chapter posted so you wouldn't have to wait any longer. Besides, you already know exactly what Hotch is going to tell them.

Also, I'm annoyed at Dr. Jonathan Crane. I really can't tell if he's in character or not.

And I have a question: I've watched The Dark Knight several times, but I cannot for the life of me remember exactly how many people Dent killed. I believe Gordon said 5 had died (but I think he was including Dent in that number), and that two of them were cops. I'll watch it again to double check, but I don't remember Dent killing two cops, jus Wuertz. Ramirez lived. He killed Maroni and his driver too, but does anyone remember who else? Or if there was anyone else?

Anyway, hope you enjoyed the chapter! Sorry for the wait! Please review!