Sympathy From The Devil

By: PhoenixJustice

Disclaimer: The Dark Knight, Batman, etc is owned by DC and its various individual owners. I only own this story and make no profit from this.

Warning: M for graphic sexual content, slash, language, etc

Pairing/Characters: Batman/Joker, Jim Gordon, Lucius Fox, The Riddler, etc

Setting: Nolanverse, post-TDK.

Summary: Left devastated by the loss of Alfred, Bruce, with the help of the Joker, goes in search of the man's killer.

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Part Nine

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Lucius drives up to the front of the nightclub, where reporters, photographers, and paparazzi were waiting, some taking pictures of some of the richies who were already walking inside. Bruce could tell, though it was subtle, that Jack was bothered by all the attention; funny, considering he lived for attention, but this was a different sort entirely. He was not seen as he truly was, not all sides of himself.

These people were only seeing the mask, not the real thing, and he knew that was what bothered the criminal most. The man with the paint, who felt most real when he held a knife in his hand, to watch an unfolding of an explosion; one of the most complex and fascinating men, no person, he had ever known. This amount of hiding himself had to be all but crippling him.

Bruce continues to watch him, as they step out of the car, both of them ignoring all shouts and questions from paparazzi, ignoring the flashes of the photographers. Lucius pulls away as they head further inside, and the billionaire continues to contemplate his nemesis, his lover.

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The nightclub was already bustling with throngs of people, some talking to one another, some sitting quietly by themselves. Bruce didn't see anything outright that screamed of the Mob; he knew that they usually stayed in the very back of the nightclub, away from the general public, and mixed in with the rich folk of the city.

With Bruce's status, he could easily head to the back of the club without any problem whatsoever, and with his air-headed and vain playboy persona, he generally did, the few times he came here or to another club in town. It was good to keep up appearances, after all, and the few times he had been with Jack in public (the criminal in makeup to hide his scars) did nothing to diminish his playboy status—he still went out with women on occasion, for appearance sake. It didn't mean anything; it meant even less than it did before the Joker became his lover. He had never indulged in any of the women he dated, and did even less with them now, mostly they were just there as eye candy to keep the media and those who watched, to come to the same conclusion about him they always had.

Tedious, sometimes, not allowed being who he truly was, in public, but necessary. And in the fight to protect Gotham, it would always be worth it. The city was more important than his discontent.

He glances around the room, wondering just who it was the Joker wanted to see, curious as to who this 'informant' or 'lackey' or whoever the hell this person was, looked like. He couldn't tell anything by the Joker's face either. The Joker takes off and he follows off languidly behind him; as impatient as he was feeling, it wouldn't exactly do good things for his carefully crafted image if he started running around acting like a crazy person.

They pass through a few tables, with Bruce ignoring most of the murmurs from the people as he and the other man passed by, though he said a few words to a couple of people that he recognized from a fundraiser a couple of months back. Bruce raises an eyebrow as they reach the very back, to the section that divided the front of the club, the regular folk, with the back, the rich folk and the mobsters (most of whom were rich enough in their own right, though almost all by illegal means.)

The Joker was silent, back hunched like usual, hands in his pockets, as they make their way to a dimly lit corner booth. A man dressed in a white suit that looked like it had seen better days, with as wrinkled as it was, looks up as they approach. A quick once over at the man showed Bruce that the man wasn't that old—mid twenties at most, wearing a light pink shirt with the white suit and white shoes to compliment the whole…ensemble, as it were, his hair was naturally blond, quite light and had light eyes to match.

"Jackie," said the man, giving a half hearted salute with his finger.

"Jonny Jonny." Replied Joker sliding into the seat across from the man, glancing up at Bruce, patting the empty space next to him, smirking slightly. "Come on and have a seat Brucie, he won't bite; that's what I do." He grins.

Bruce just rolls his eyes in response, before taking a seat. The man Joker so aptly called "Jonny Jonny" pulls a pack of cigarettes and lighter out of his pocket, lighting one up before offering them both one. The billionaire shakes his head; smoking wasn't as bad as drinking, when it came to his mission, but it was something he didn't like to do. The Joker grabs one out of the pack, grabbing Jonny's cigarette out of his mouth, and lighting it up with it. The man looked completely unfazed by the Joker; the criminals ticks and the like more obvious now; Bruce could see Jack licking at the insides of his mouth, at the scars which for the moment were not visible.

Jonny looks over at Bruce, holding out a hand to him, Bruce, after a brief moments hesitation, takes it.

"Haven't properly introduced myself; wouldn't be a big thing, but your Jackie's big squeeze," said Jonny, smirking.

"Jackie?" Bruce said, smirking back.

Joker rolls his eyes as Jonny speaks again. "Yeah, well it's safer to call him Jack, or Jackie, out here in public like this. Can't very well say his true name, now can I? Not if I don't want the whole of this room to get out the lead. But yeah, the name's Jonny, Jonny Frost."

The name made Bruce stop in his tracks. Jonny Frost. Jonny Frost. Jonny Frost. It was a name that wasn't far off from Joe Chill. The man was dead, but he was, and it was—

Bruce was out of the booth like a shot, before anyone could react. Joker too, stood as well, eyes wide as if realizing as well, what was going on; Jonny just looked mildly confused.

"Bruce—" Joker starts.

Bruce takes off before the clown prince could say anything else, hurrying in no particular direction; he just had to get away. He could see it all too easily; the shaking hand, straining to hold onto the gun, the man's gritty voice, nearly breathless as he made his demands, his mother's screams as his father stands in front of her to protect her, hearing the sounds of the bullets rush through the air, hearing his mother's last gasping breaths…his father's last words…

He pushes past a curtained doorway, rushing around a corner, before suddenly running directly into something. He staggers back, hair mussed from all the running, his breath coming in shallow pants. A man was sprawled out on the floor.

"Oh, I'm…I'm sorry—" Bruce started. He still felt out of it, but a little more clearheaded than just a moment ago. He holds out a hand. "…Need some help up?"

The man doesn't reply, instead he starts to lift himself up with a cane, something Bruce had been too distracted to notice the man had. The cane was shaped like a large question mark on top. As soon as the man starts to stand up, the billionaire could get a better look at the man, and it makes him still. The man wore a green jacket, which was opened and with no shirt underneath it, and blue jeans, with a pair of red and white sneakers, he also wore a purple and green hat, with a pair of purple sunglasses with the frames tinted orange. Around his bellybutton was a series of black question marks. Bruce had seen this man before, though never in person.

The Riddler.

"You—" choked Bruce, his confusion and sadness ebbing away, the anger rising up in him, feeling more akin to Batman, than Bruce at the moment, but not exactly just one of them either.

"When the world is against you, where is the safest place to hide?*" asked the Riddler.

Bruce shakes his head, his anger so strong in that moment, but still felt paralyzed by something. This was the man who killed Alfred. Killed him. Why was he hesitating? Why couldn't he move? It was the same…as that day…

"In plain sight."

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Did it have something to do with the note that had been found with Alfred? He thought he had gotten its meaning, but obviously not…what had it said?

Sharp things know, what a grievous blow. Charged to discover, left with red and grey. The muse falls to the sea, leaving questions. How can one find such a question?

"Tell me what that note meant," growled Bruce, sounding almost too close to Batman's voice, but not caring at the moment. He pushes the criminal against the wall to strengthen his point.

"Answer one of the things in it and I will answer one for you." Replied Riddler. He was younger than expected—the pictures of him had not been that close up, in the face at least; he was probably around the same age as Joker was, maybe one or two years older.

Bruce slams him harder against the wall. "You think you have any right to demand anything from me?"

"If you kill me, you'll never get the answers you seek, Bruce Wayne," replied Riddler, calmly. "You want answers just as much as you seek vengeance."

He lets go of the man with a disgusted snort; he was right. As much as the Batman in him longed to strike the man with his fists again, and again, and again, Bruce wanted answers. Killing the man would not only, not accomplish that, it would probably break him; Alfred would never want him to break his One Rule, not even for him.

He thinks quickly about the note. The muse falls to the sea, leaving questions. The docks were by the river, and the criminal that had left that confusing note, which obviously made questions pop up in the mind. But the muse falls to the sea bit... Muse could be closely construed with Riddler, both having to do with inspiration (and frustration) with words and other similar things. The falls to the sea thing though…he doubted that the Riddler had alluded to the fact that he had fallen into the river. Hmm… river…blue…beyond the river, the closest thing to it that people associated with blue was….

"The Blue Note. You came to The Blue Note after…what happened, after you left that note. And how can one find such a question, is to mean you; you gave the answer how to find you on the note, if anyone could figure it out."

The Riddler lets out a small smile. "You're smarter than you let people believe Wayne. So I'll give you one of the parts, like I said I would. Sharp things know, what a grievous blow." He leans in a little closer, glancing around before speaking again, his voice quiet. "Your little lover, Batman's nemesis, knew that he was getting tailed, that someone wanted his death. He knows how much of a grievous blow it is, what happened to your butler, because it wasn't supposed to happen to Alfred Pennyworth; it was supposed to happen to the Joker. He was the one supposed to be there, not Pennyworth. If that man hadn't been there…who knows what could have happened instead…"

"What?" All these things he had been going through, the pain of losing another person he loved and it was an accident? He grabs onto the man's jacket lapels, slamming him back onto the wall. "All of this grief you've caused and it was an accident?!" He felt like screaming. "Why are you after Joker?"

"Charged to discover, left with red and gray." Wheezed Riddler.

"Fuck your riddles and answer me!" roared Bruce. He was on the edge of losing his self-control and he knew it; he just didn't know if he could reel it back in.

"I was hired." The Riddler choked out. "I was sent out to kill the Joker. I have no beef against him, but I needed the money they offered me. After I…after Pennyworth died, I was left in a pool of blood on the gray pavement and I couldn't take it. I took back their money to them and they threatened me. It's where I just got back from…I've been hiding out at The Blue Note ever since what happened."

"That can't—" Bruce started. The anger was slowing ebbing away, leaving more of Bruce than Batman, and Bruce felt like crying. "You're lying—"

"Bruce." He glances over at the sound of the soft voice. It was Jack, more Jack than Joker in that moment, he stood in the doorway, with Jonny Frost standing next to him. "He's telling the truth."

He pulls back, watching, but not really seeing the Riddler rubbing absently at his shoulders before straightening out his suit jacket. He takes a few steps back, rubbing wearily at his eyes. All this was too much to take.

"It's Sofia Falcone's doing," whispered Riddler, looking around as if afraid she, or one of her men, were there. "She's the one that hired me."

"I infiltrated her rank of mobsters," said Jonny suddenly. "At Jackie's orders—he learned not that long ago who it was that was gunning after him, well one of the many."

Bruce glances at the clown prince who shrugs. "People are always after me, so I'm used to it, but this was different. Eddie here wasn't the first of the men she hired to do me in. She's the daughter of dear old Carmine Falcone."

"She's not happy about the Joker taking over her father's territory; she ran, and runs, things in Chicago, but I guess she decided to extend her reach all the way over here in Gotham, to get the city back in family hands." Said Jonny.

"She ain't getting shit back," sneered Joker. "I've had enough of those idiot mobsters. How I run the city is my business. They're not gonna fight me either—only Batsy gets to do that. The rest of these idiots are less than the scum they roll around in."

"I'm sorry for what I did," said Riddler. "I can't take it back, but I can help you stop Sofia; my ass is on the line either way. Her men will probably be after me soon."

"I told you'd I'd help you, Brucie," said Joker. "Plus, I sure as hell ain't letting more of those two-bit wannabe's take over what's mine."

Jonny shrugs. "I go where the boss goes."

The Riddler had done the deed, but it wasn't his doing that had started everything in the first place; The Roman's daughter was behind it, she had gotten the men to go after the Joker, she had hired the Riddler, she was the mastermind behind everything.

He looks around at them all. He had help from a crazed madman, who was also his nemesis and lover both, the madman's "associate", and the man who had killed Alfred, even if not meaning too. God. What kind of fucked up shit had he gotten himself into…?

He sighs.

Well, it was probably better than fighting crime with a teenage boy, a dog, or a teenaged girl. **

Whoever would do that would have to be crazy.

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*= This line was taken from the Joker graphic novel.

**= This is a reference to Robin, Ace the Bat Hound, and Batgirl. XD

A/N: Gah! I finally finished this chapter! I have been having writer's block and am just now getting over it, lol. This chapter turned out better than I expected it too as well—I had a different idea of how Bruce ran into the Riddler originally, but I'm much more happy with this version. =P Oh, and I based how Riddler looks and stuff, from the Joker graphic novel. XP

I hope that you enjoyed this!

Let me know what you thought!

--PhoenixJustice