A/N – first line is from the song "Strong." By London Grammer.
"Excuse me for a while, while I'm wide-eyed, and I'm so down caught in the middle, I've excused you for a while, while I'm wide-eyed, and I'm so down caught in the middle." He hated when that happened! When a song got stuck on permanent loop in his brain, soft and so very apt.
He struggled awake, the wires and monitors alerted the hospital staff as he tried to choke out a word. He smiled despite the pain as the tears ran down his face and something blocked his throat.
"Hey, you've got breathing tube in, don't panic, please relax, I'll get it out." His vision blurred on the face of a tired man, his gentle features creased into a relieved smile as he called for assistance.
It seemed to take forever before he felt the tug and pull of the tube and he winced as finally he breathed on his own. Ice chips slid into his mouth and the man, no doctor appeared next to him again.
"Do you remember me?" Nick asked softly.
"From A&E." His voice was dry as more ice was slipped into his parched mouth.
"Good. Mr J, do you remember what happened?"
He nodded unable to speak the words as he closed his eyes against the dread. "It's ok, you really are safe here. You're in a private room in Gotham General."
"Secure wing?" he coughed as he pushed himself painfully up in the bed as Nick pushed pillows under his head and lifted the bed.
"Yes."
"How bad?" he sounded so very tired, so very human and Nick smiled again.
"You have multiple wounds on your back that have been treated by the burns unit, most of which will scar given your skin condition, there was internal bleeding and damage from the assault and you've had minor surgery. You've got a broken ankle, collar bone and a small fracture in your skull. You had us worried Mr J."
"Jack." He managed the single word with much effort.
"Jack?"
"'s my name."
"Ah nice to meet you." Nick gently pushed the long hair from his face.
"Batsy?"
"Has been here every day, though I'm not sure how, but I'm glad he was." Nick smiled fully.
"Mmm." Jack answered lazily, with just a hint of southern drawl.
"Do you remember ever having surgery on your neck before?"
Jack shook his head and Nick frowned.
"You need to rest. There are antibiotics in the saline, along with vitamins, minerals and some mild painkillers. We'll try real food tomorrow."
"No anti-psychotics?"
"Do you need them?"
"Never did." Jack's voice gave out as he closed his eyes.
~~~)))(((~~~~
Bad news travelled fast of that Ramirez was sure, three hours ago the hospital alerted Gotham PD that Joker was awake. Damn it all his masters would not be happy about that. His face was ruddy as he pounded up into the hallway of the secure wing.
Ramirez champed at the bit outside his door. "He's awake?"
"Not long enough to make a statement." Nick shut the door to Jack's room firmly.
"Sonofabitch thought we'd seen the end of the crazy fuck."
"Once just once I will tell you this, stay away. I'll call Gordon if you need authorization, but you do not go near my patient. Not in my hospital, not on this ward and if I can make it not ever. That man is a victim of the system you put him into, his injuries are severe and I will not have you undo everything we have done to save him because of your bigotry."
"You don't need to call Gordon." Jim chewed on the electronic cigarette. "Ramirez you're relieved."
Nick smiled. "Off you go then." He shooed the Detective away and turned back to see the amused face of non other than Bruce Wayne. "Ah to what do we owe this pleasure?" Nick fumed silently, the last thing his patient needed was a well meaning socialite.
"Doctor?" Bruce enquired.
"Faber, Nick Faber." He finally held out his hand and was surprised to receive a firm shake.
"I understand you've been taking care of Mr J?"
"Yes."
"How is he?" Gordon asked in the rapidly cooling environment.
"Much better than expected, he's breathing on his own now. The burns unit with the help of some new Wayne Tech has closed most of the wounds on his back and stomach. Other wounds will take a lot longer to heal, the fractures and such. He is malnourished and we have him on saline now, we'll try food tomorrow. He's awake and surprisingly lucid, but tires easily."
"Mr Wayne has been appointed by the board at Arkham to resolve and repair the situation Dr Faber."
"Ahuh." Faber looked at him carefully and wasn't convinced. The Armani suit, the slicked back dark hair, just falling into his face and the beautiful blue eyes, he looked like the quintessential playboy. But there was a tiny smirk on full lips and the doctor frowned, he'd seen that expression before but he couldn't put his finger on it.
"I understand your reticence." Ah the voice soft, cultured yet firm, a resolve hidden behind silken depths and Faber moved closer. "However, I can assure you Wayne Enterprises take its civic responsibility seriously. We have stood down the medical team and have brought in top specialists from Boston and New York. Batman has provided us with the schematics of updated security and is currently I understand doing his detective thing with the information we have provided him. We are keen, Doctor Faber, for this to be an isolated case. Arkham was designed to care and offer treatment for the mentally ill, not just a pit to throw them into and keep them away from the more, gentle folks." His smile was blinding.
"Mr Wayne I meant no disrespect. But you don't appreciate the situation, that man in there may never have been insane."
"Good Lord are you saying he was sane when he went on a rampage?"
"No Mr Wayne, I'm saying we have credible proof to indicate he was a pawn and not capable of defending himself mentally or physically, he was as much a victim of the Joker as the rest of Gotham."
Jim Gordon cleared his throat and glared at the doctor.
"An interesting hypothesis, but sane or not, responsible or not, we are not about wholesale brutality Doctor, he will of course have the best of care and I can see he has at least an advocate. Whatever it costs, whatever you need if it's not available." Bruce handed him a business card. "That's my private line, you may not get me, but Mrs Cochrane is my PA she will organise anything you need."
"I'm..." Nick put the card away. "I really don't know what to say. Thank you." He blushed and Bruce smiled.
"May I see him?"
"Yes, yes of course."
"Commissioner, a few moments alone please, as we discussed."
"I don't like it Mr Wayne, he's dangerous."
"He's barely conscious." Nick interjected.
"You have my word, I'll scream if I need help." Bruce grinned again and played on his playboy persona.
"Of that I have no doubt." Gordon muttered.
~~~)))(((~~~
The room was in partial darkness and the man on the bed was small but his colour was returning, although his skin was bleached white, there was colour behind it, a soft healthy pink. He needed a bath and a shave with faint blond stubble covering his chin and the green dye only now on the tips of the blonde hair. But it was the eyes, and Bruce admitted it always had been the acid green eyes that looked at you and saw your soul. Understood how to eviscerate or compromise or enthral you with little more than a fleeting glance. Those same intelligent eyes now tracked his movement, slits of green that were more curious than afraid as he watched Bruce come closer.
"Hello Beaut-i-ful..." Jack drawled softly.
"What um, what do I call you?" Bruce added a stammer for effect.
"Anything you want." Jack giggled softly and closed his eyes as it pulled at barely closed skin. Bruce nodded.
"I'm Bruce..."
"Wayne yes Joker has met you." The voice was soft, a lazy drawl, a seductive hitch but it was even and mellow, not the high octave's he normally associated with Joker. "You're prettier in real life."
"Do you flirt with everyone?"
"No-pe. Only gorgeous men in Armani." Jack smile was unashamed and Bruce felt his face warm.
"Batman has asked me to take care of you."
"Ah Batsy." Jack closed his eyes and savoured the name on his lips. "So he sends me a playboy, a pretty one mind you but just how are you taking care of me?"
"Um well I've funded your extended stay. In a day or so when you're up to it, my legal team will come and sit with you to discuss future residences."
"No wait." Jack looked confused. "Isn't this the bit where you're supposed to send me back to Arkham?"
"Do you want to go back?"
"I," Jack looked down and Bruce could tell it was taking its toll on the man. "I'm ah, scared of Arkham."
"Yes I know. They never questioned you know, never asked, never gave you representation, never even considered that maybe The Clown Prince of Crime was a construct. Tell me, are you sane?"
"That's a loaded question Su-gar how does a mad man know?"
"I think, given your intelligence you'd know." Bruce smirked.
"You're smarter than they think too." Jack grinned back.
"Thank you, but you haven't answered my question."
"I really don't know. I'd like to think I am, but I'm not certain." Jack answered truthfully as he began to doze.
Bruce took a moment to watch him drift into sleep and cupped his cheek in a large warm hand. Again Jack nuzzled the palm and Bruce smiled. "Don't get into any more trouble."
Green eyes flew open as he watched the retreating form and he scowled, for a moment he thought, but then the drugs and the pain took it away, he went back to sleep.
~~~)))(((~~~
"So how did it go?" Clark asked carefully neutral. He could see the heat rise in his friend, the slight quickening of his heart, this was bad.
"Good. We'll give him legal representation until we can work out a more permanent option, and we're funding his stay. I'm concerned for the doctor however; he's a little too forthcoming with information and likely to get himself killed."
"I'll keep an eye on him. I spoke to my contacts at S.T.A.R labs, and they know of the project, Alfred's information was correct, but it appears that after the project got mothballed one of the doctors died, another as you know is currently teaching and the third turned himself toasty a week back."
"And again, ew."
"I'm doing a background check on the research team and I'll come back to you when I know. In the meantime are you going to see the delightful Ms Waller?"
"Not if I can help it." Bruce grimaced and pulled the cowl off his head as he opened a file for Clark on his computer.
"And I'm looking at?"
"Meet Jack Louis Napier. Born November 31, 1986, in Georgia."
"I thought he came from Brooklyn."
"Later he moved to Brooklyn when he was eight with his parents, his father was the head baker at Carmines in the Bronx and his mother was a nurse. School reports indicate he's highly intelligent and passed with no psychosis. Average southern family, who attended church, was widely active in the community and well liked."
"You sure you've got the right one?" Bruce just glared at him. "Okay sorry I asked."
"Joker has spoken of Jeannie who we assumed was his wife."
"And she's not?"
"I doubt it, Jack is gay."
"You're sure?"
"I'm sure. Are you going to doubt everything I tell you?"
"Sorry, shutting up. Wait how you are sure he's gay?" The bat glare was in full force.
"Jeannie was his older sister. She was dating Sal Maroni and fell pregnant."
"Ah shit and Carmines was owned by Falcone."
"Yes, Falcone was not impressed and muscled Jack into working for him, his skills and gift as a chemist were highly regarded. Her safety was the leash they put on him."
"But how did Jeannie die?"
"Jack tried to run with his pregnant sister, she was killed seven months pregnant the night Jack fell into the vat of chemicals."
"Are his parents still alive?"
Bruce flicked the screen. "No father died in a work related incident, it's non specific, and his mother was found with slashed wrists the day of his funeral. She died two days later."
"That's shitty."
"It is. So while we have a stressor we don't have a background conducive to spawning the Joker."
"Which is where Cadmus and the Voice Of God come into play."
"Still working on it."
"Wait who found Jack?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Who rescued him from the chemicals?"
"I pulled him out, but by then I was not friendly with Gotham PD, I left him on a gangway."
"But according to this there are no hospital reports."
"I know. As I said still working on it."
"Your convinced he's sane and been manipulated."
"Not completely but the evidence is mounting."
"As are your emotions."
"Pardon?"
"B it's me remember I can see your heart rate."
"He's oddly endearing." Bruce finally admitted with a faint blush.
"Of for the love of Rao B, you cannot be falling for him."
He shrugged. "I know I can't leave him, not until I'm certain."
"And when you are, if he's mad?"
"Then he will go back to a nice padded cell in Arkham."
"Promise?"
"Clark really how old are you?"
"I mean it B; promise me you will put him back in a cell if he belongs there."
Bruce thought for a moment and nodded. "Agreed."
~~~))(((~~~
Nick stood by his office window and looked out at the rain, a cup of stale tea in his hand and the half eaten chicken sandwich lay forgotten on the desk. His eyes felt heavy as he tried to rub the grit from them.
The last word he thought, "Sleep."
And falling to a heap in the lounge he did just that.
