AN: As it turns out, a person isolated from the sunlight and clocks and things begins operating on a twenty-five hour day schedule, not twenty-four and a half. Thanks to Mannariel for pointing that out!

Thanks for the reviews!

The gauze on his wrist was tugged again, ripped, taped. It was tight enough to cut off the circulation this time. Well, not cut it off completely. But certainly it slowed it. The pain was beautiful, and that combined with the anger and uncertainty plain on what he could see of Batman's face pushed him over the edge. He could feel himself going hard as the Bat began wrapping his other wrist.

"You didn't answer the question, Batsy."

"I am not the reason you're here."

"Back to that again?" He clicked his tongue, disappointed, and moaned when the gauze was forcefully taped down. "I thought we discussed this."

"You're a homicidal psychopath. And you would be with or without my presence. Do not try and use me as your excuse."

"I'm not, uh, using you as anything," the Joker countered, wishing that the Bats wasn't holding his wrists. Lovely as the pain being inflicted there was, his lower anatomy was severely lacking in attention. He wondered how badly he'd be beaten if he tried grinding up against the Batman. It might be worth it. "Think about it for a sec, wouldya? Which cities in the world have 'super villains'?"

He waited for an answer, and didn't receive one. Batsy tended to shut up when he realized an argument wasn't going to go in his favor. "Gotham. Metropolis. Central City. Need I go on, or are you sensing a pattern? They're all cities that have heroes. And the funny thing, Bats? The heroes didn't show up to combat the super villains."

Still no response. He shifted uncomfortably, really wishing that his hands were free. Annoying Batman was almost as arousing as getting hurt. He tried pulling free, knowing he'd fail. Batman tightened his grip as the Joker had expected and the pain made him moan, the sensation running like electricity through his body and to his groin.

Looking disgusted, Batsy loosened his hold, though keeping it tight enough to prevent the Joker from moving. Boring pain. Damn it. He tried to ignore his need for the moment and go on with the argument. "Oh, I know what you're thinking. Gotham City was corrupt and rotting and blah blah blah. And yeah, it was. But the interesting bit of the story is that these super villains didn't exist until after the Caped Crusader tied Falcone to a floodlight and made his presence known. There were criminals, yeah, and eccentric ones, but there weren't masked and costumed freaks."

"Explain Jonathan Crane, then." The Joker noted that his voice got more guttural the angrier he became. It was kind of funny.

He rolled his eyes. "Jonny doesn't count. His mask, as I'm sure he's told you, 'cause he's so fond of explaining it to anyone with ears, is functional. True, he made it to look like a scarecrow as, I dunno, some sort of twisted security blanket, but it's got a built in air filter, and Jonny happens to work with air-based toxins. You'll notice also, that he's only got a mask, not a full outfit like—" He gestured to himself, forgetting that he was in Rachel's dress for a moment.

Oh. Well then, all he'd done was draw the Bat's attention to the tent in the front of his gown. Which, though it detracted from the conversation, was still hilarious. He hadn't known it was possible for someone's eyes to widen that much. Even better than that was the way Batman averted his eyes seconds later, mouth twitching as though he wanted to shout at him but was desperately trying to ignore the elephant in the room.

Joker took pity on him and decided to continue speaking despite Batman's utter failure to contribute so far. "Unlike myself. Jonny pretty much fails at, uh, super villainy anyway. I mean, he chose to be a scarecrow. What's scary about those? Oh, right. Nothing. But back to my point. You'll also notice that Jonny was the only villain with that theatricality up to that point."

He took advantage of the way Batsy's hands had loosened in his shock, tried bringing his own hands down to his hips. The vigilante immediately pulled the cuffs back up, so they dug against the bandages. Well, that was just cruel, giving him false hope. Not to mention it was reopening the cuts, by the feel.

Not that it bothered him too badly. Bat-induced blood most definitely fell under the category of 'good hurt.'

"Now, look at the state of Gotham after you've been around for a while. You'll notice that, uh, there's a lot more than the Scarecrow running around these days, isn't there? Myself, Harley Quinn, The Riddler, the Mad Hatter, Poison Ivy, Two Face, and those are just the ones I spend time with in Arkham. There's way more where that came from." He paused to let the sheer magnitude of the 'masks' in Gotham sink in. And there were a hell of a lot. Maybe there was something in the city's water, a remnant from Crane's toxin, that had made everybody and their mother think costumes were a wonderful and completely original idea. "And with that in mind, think about how many of 'em were running around in their costumes wreaking havoc before you set your example with your cape and sexy pointy ears and all."

Batman's teeth were grinding. The Joker thought about mentioning how that could damage enamel, but thought better of it. He didn't want to start a fight before he'd had his say.

"I'm pretty sure you can do simple subtraction on your own," he went on, over the grinding. "But in case ya can't, it's one, Bats. All you had before that was Jonny-boy, and the League of Whatever that employed him, but all they wore were ninja masks, right?"

"How do you know anything about the League of Shadows?" Batman demanded. He sounded almost desperate, as though he'd been praying for any possible change of the subject. The Joker smirked, feeling contention at causing such stress. If only he didn't need to get off so badly, then things really would be perfect.

"From the Scarecrow, of course. It's all in his Arkham file. I'm sure you've read it, haven't you?" He tugged against Batsy's grip, again felt that fantastic pain that went straight from the nerve endings to between his legs. He sighed in way that he forced not to become a moan, as he was pretty sure if he moaned again, Bats would let go. "Point being, all of us showed up after you paved the way. After you made costumes, uh, fashionable, I guess. After ya put the idea in our heads."

"You're wrong."

"Really?" Now the Joker was sure he was trying to convince himself. "Then prove it."

"Even if I did put the idea of costumes into your head, I didn't introduce the criminal instinct."

"So you say."

He was shoved against the wall, rough cement pushing into him through the dress, arms shoved against his body as the Batman squeezed his wrists. It felt heavenly, and he was unable to hold back a moan this time. The Bat responded by shoving him again, as if that would shut him up. Not helping, honey, he thought, moaning again.

"Explain to me exactly how I made you criminals." It was a threat, not a requesting. The burn of desire the Joker had been feeling was becoming a throb. He swallowed, eyes fluttering open and closed, before elaborating.

"Well, ya didn't with me. Sorry Bats, but I'm way too stunning and original for you to take credit for." He flashed the man a winning smile that failed to win over anything. "And if ya wanna get technical, Harley was my invention, even if it was your beating me that pushed her over the edge. However, the origins of the other rogues aren't nearly as uh, cut and dry.

"Par exemple, Jonny again. You poisoned him—"

"He was insane before that." The response was instantaneous. The Joker guessed that this was an argument Batman had had before, with Jonny. And likely with his own conscience.

He shrugged. "True. But he was also doing a decent job of holding himself together, wasn't he? Well enough that he could spend day after day with other psychiatrists and not have anyone realize how messed up he was. Well enough to know that he could only experiment on his patients and uh, people who got too nosy, as opposed to kidnapping random people as test subjects the way he does now. Yeah, the kid was fucked up before. But you made him break apart completely, and thanks to you, the damage is permanent."

"Narcissism is always permanent." His voice was hard enough to cut diamond. He really did not like being reminded of his moral lapses, did he?

"And how do ya know he was a full-out narcissist before you shoved recreational hallucinogens up his nose? Already had a psych profile on him, or something?" The Joker raised a brow. "'Cause I doubt that. And shifting gears, whether or not he was irreversibly mad is irrelevant. You had access to an antidote to that stuff—ya had to, because you and Harvey's little bunny—"

His head was slammed into the wall, sparks exploding across his vision. He sighed, hips jerking to meet a thrust he only wished was there. "Don't you ever speak about her again."

"Fine." He ran his tongue over his teeth, tasting blood. Of course, his gums bled a lot anyway, so he was used to it. "Your brain, along with She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's, isn't permanently fucked, so you had an antidote, and if you made an antidote, you probably figured out how the stuff worked and that it'd be permanently harmful without it. But ya didn't give Jonny-boy any of that stuff, didya? You just left him to be locked up and have his mind shatter even more than it already was. That's cold, Batsy. And coming from me, that says something."

"The League of Shadows was about to destroy the city. I had to warn the authorities and get started on mass producing the anti—"

"Excuses, excuses." He couldn't help but giggle. Bats was actually trying to defend his good name against the Joker, of all people. Hilarious. "Fine, let's get off the topic of Jonny for a minute. What about, I dunno, Poison Ivy?"

"What about her?"

"All Red wanted to do was kill the DA for building a prison over the last habitat for an endangered plant."

"That's all she wanted to do." He couldn't tell if that was supposed to be a question or not, Batsy's voice was so flat.

He shrugged a second time. "I'm not saying murder's acceptable. Though, in my book, as I'm sure you know, it totally is. But that would have been the only crime she'd committed, maybe. Gotham's not exactly home to a bunch of rare flowers it can kill off one by one, is it? And she'd managed to live her whole life around people, uh, burning fossil fuels and failing to recycle, so the murder might not have driven her to become the eco-terrorist that she is today. But then ya stopped her, and that pushed her over the edge. She wanted revenge on you, and that led to her series of crimes. Same with the Riddler and Tetch. They wanted one thing and one thing only, and your interference turned them into costumed freaks."

"If the mere act of being caught was enough to drive them mad, being apprehended by the police would have done the same thing."

"Assuming the police could catch them." He licked his lips, enjoying the taste of the lipstick mixed with blood. "They're not too good at catching us, are they? Anyway, it might not have the same effect. Think about it, Bats: People who break the law expect the police to catch them. We've all heard it since childhood; break the law and you'll be arrested. It's the status quo. Whereas being caught by a man in a bat costume? Tends to piss people off. Makes 'em want revenge. So yeah, I'm uh, standing by my theory that you're a big part of why Gotham's so fucked up. So how does that make ya feel?"

Batman said nothing, only let go off him after a final shove against the wall. He stood, striding to the door. Stalking towards it, actually. The Joker couldn't see his face, but was sure he was glowering.

"Nothing more to say?" he asked, giggling. When the going got tough, it seemed the tough ran off to lick their wounds.

And then he was gone.

Still giggling to himself, the Joker began to move his hands from their place on his shoulders to his aching, very neglected cock. Then an idea struck him and, difficult as it was, he stopped. This room had security cameras, after all, and he likely hadn't given Bats nearly enough time to get to the security monitors. As much will power as it took, he needed to wait.

After all, if he was going to put on a show, he wanted an audience.

For no good reason whatsoever, Batman found himself punching in the security code to Crane's door.

He told himself it was to check on the man, who'd also slept through breakfast. See that he hadn't woken up while Bruce was away from the surveillance room and tried to asphyxiate himself with the chains or something. God knew he was panicked enough to try it. The previous night, when Batman had brought him dinner, he'd ranted for a good five minutes on how thanks to the flickering of the light bulb, he'd become convinced that the walls were shifting in position and trying to close in on him.

So he ought to be checked up on, because someone that delusional wasn't safe alone.

He refused to admit, even to himself, that he felt guilt where Jonathan Crane was concerned.

Crane was still asleep, sheets wrapped tightly around his thin body. He was shivering. Batman made his way to him, cautiously, in case the unconsciousness was an act, placed a hand on his shoulder. Crane flinched in his sleep, and even through the glove, he felt like ice.

He'd thought the shaking was due to fear of him, as it was usually. It hadn't occurred to Bruce that he was shivering from cold. The sense of guilt that he refused to acknowledge compounded. He was used to the temperature of the cave, but then, he was wearing armor, and actually had muscle tissue. Someone as thin as Crane would be freezing. Especially if he was hyper aware of the temperature.

He stood back up, removing his hand from his sleeping foe. He couldn't afford to feel pity for Jonathan Crane. Not in a situation as dangerous as this, with so much at stake. Still, he had to do something to lessen his self-disgust over the man's condition, both mentally and physically. If he didn't…well, a cloth could only stretch so far before it tore.

Jonathan woke up and realized that, for the first time in the past two days, he wasn't shivering. Confused, he stared up at the ceiling and walls around him. Same unpainted cement blocks, same damn flickering light bulb casting ghastly shadows on the walls.

Even more bewildered, he sat up, and realized the sheets he had clutched in his hands felt thicker, somehow. He glanced down, realized that a dark blue comforter had been placed on him in his sleep. Like the sheets, he found after a quick search, it lacked a tag.

He blushed, mortified by the fact that he'd shown weakness the Batman had picked up on, even if that weakness was something as mild as sensitivity to the temperature. Even worse, he couldn't help but feel comforted and reluctantly grateful for the blanket. It was strange that the Batman was trying to be nice, especially after the sex comment he'd let slip. Maybe he was being lulled into a false sense of security for some terrible scheme. He spotted the breakfast tray on the floor and ate slowly, trying to ignore this conflict of feelings.

However, he could not ignore the sounds from next door that began soon after, deep and sensual moans. It became especially impossible to block out when the Joker began screaming "Batman" at the top of his voice.

Maybe he hadn't been so off in the sex comment after all.

AN: The reference to Ivy's origin is from her start of darkness on Batman: The Animated Series.

Par exemple is French for "for example."