Jack noticed it first. It wasn't a sound it was a pre-sentience to how things should be. Almost he would say later a smell.
Alfred had turned the oven on timer, wrapped the apple crumble in foil and put it to stay warm on the bench top, the same with the roast chicken it was set to low and slow. They had had a nice hour of baking and talking and cutting of hair and the silence, Jack noted, was not strained but comfortable and calm.
Even now he couldn't say what alerted him, but his head whipped up, and Alfred followed his lead. War horses, one old, and one an old soul looked at each other, neither easily spooked. Jack flipped a knife into his pocket and grabbed the boning knife out of the block on the bench; Alfred opened the broom closet and pulled out a shotgun, pocketed some rounds and checked the chamber. In sync they moved quietly into the library at the front of the house.
Dick too was on edge; by the time they got to him he held a baseball bat firmly in his grip and looked towards the dark shapes that blurred passed the front window.
"I count four." He said softly from behind the couch in the library.
"Security has been overridden. Emergency code has activated." Alfred spoke sotto voice.
"How long to reinforcements?" Jack enquired as he pulled the sling off and threw it onto the couch. He popped his neck as he rolled his shoulders and grinned.
"Eight to ten minutes." Alfred nodded and pushed Dick into the hidden passage behind the clock. "I suggest you go too Master Jack."
"Ahh Alfie, as if I'd leave you. They want me dead, you'd just be collateral, and then we have to make sure Batsy doesn't get outed." Jack grinned again as Alfred locked the passage.
The front window shattered as a gas grenade rolled across the floor. Alfred threw a re-breather to Jack who popped it into his mouth as he grinned, and cocked the shotgun.
The first blast blew the front windows out and with it the smoke, two armed men rolled through the broken glass and into the room, crashing a Ming vase in their wake.
Amateurs Jack thought disgustedly. He dispatched the first one with deadly efficiency, a quick slash to the carotid artery and t he man bled out by the time the blood pooled around his feet.
The second came at Alfred who not to be outdone, took a swing with the handle of the shotgun and the resounding crack of bone could be heard over their laboured breathing.
One more crept in through the library door, having breached the perimeter and with a boot shoved Alfred in the back and sent him flying.
Jack swivelled to meet the new challenger and grew impossibly calm and then he began to giggle as he flipped the long bladed knife over and over in his hand, he didn't need to look at the blade and never once did he miss catching it by the handle, over and over again, almost hypnotically.
He helped Alfred stand and tutted at the man, aware of the intruder's gun trained on both of them.
The poor schmoop hands shook, not a lot, but just enough to give away his fear. He looked confused, dressed in commando fatigues, but he was not military, thin not toned, hair was far too long, and slow to react to the menace that was Jack. This man was afraid of him, of the Joker and it was time to let the clown out to play if only for appearance sake.
Ah yes, Jack thought, street thug.
And he knew just how to fight them, no matter how far up the ladder they managed to crawl.
He ambled passed the man Alfred had clubbed on the floor and sent a swift kick to his groin and smirked again. Tears streamed from his eyes thanks largely to the gas, but Alfred suspected from his uncontrollable mirth. With a fluid sinuous grace that was belied by the booted ankle, Jack slithered across to the man who was awestruck that Jack refused to be afraid of him.
The intruder's eyes grew impossibly wide as Jack too quickly got close enough to him to plunge the boning knife hilt deep into his gut and twist.
"Bad form." He threw the re-breather onto the ground and scanned the grounds outside briefly and then took off towards the back of the house towards the kitchen. Alfred marvelled at his speed and dexterity given his injuries and shook his head, he had never seen the Joker in action and he had a new found respect for both the man and his boy.
Jack made it as far as the mud room and was caught by the last intruder. This one had an emblem on the shirt that he clutched up and ripped as he swirled passed. He got too close, his shoulder burned as the man cut him across the stomach. A vicious sweep of the M-tech caught him and he staggered back against the wall. Vision blurred as he continued to laugh hysterically and reached into his pocket to finger the smaller blade.
Alfred appeared in the doorway just as the intruder threw his knife, it went wide and stuck in the door frame, bleeding and feeling faint, Jack shoulder charged Alfred out of the way and they both went down , skidding on his blood as the last man standing clicked the safety off the gun and aimed.
Jack was too quick.
All Batman saw was the small kitchen knife embed itself into the man's throat as he flicked it across the room with unerring accuracy and slump in a protective heap over Alfred's legs. Any doubts he may have had as to the man's sanity fled. Never would Joker go down fighting to protect anyone. Jack on the other hand did and he was grateful for his sense of honour.
Clark appeared seconds later and took in the scene.
"Dick?" Bruce called.
"In the cave." Alfred said softly. One hand carded through the shorter blond hair that fanned across his legs, and looked up, tears in the old eyes.
Bruce swore loudly.
"Eight more outside that hadn't breached the security. I've rounded them up." Clark began the debrief. "Jacks still breathing, vital signs are strong." He said as he reached to turn him over as Batman stayed his hand and pushed him aside.
"Let Dick out, tell him it's over." His hands shook slightly as he turned Jack onto his back and cupped his cheek.
Clark left and after a quick sweep, managed to immobilise the two surviving intruders and secure the perimeter. Dick shot down the hallway and into the mudroom; he skidded and fell to his knees beside Batman and Alfred as he reached out to Jack.
"Is he okay?" Dick said softly as he reached a hand to the sweater clad shoulder. Alfred moved the prone man to his back, his head pillowed on his legs. Old bones protested as he put pressure on the gut wound that seeped blood through his fingers.
Glazed eyes opened and focused on the kids face as he smiled. "Alfie you ok?"
Batman looked across to his old friend a question in the tilt of his head as he regarded the man. "I'm fine, a few bruises. But I'm fine son, rest now."
Batman nodded the tension coiling out of his shoulders as he pulled the sweater and shirt up to reveal the long cut. It was deep but clean and had already begun to congeal. He pressed his hands more firmly against the pale abdomen and removed a spray from his utility belt.
"This gonna sting?" Jack's voice was calm as he closely watched the gauntleted hands work on him.
"Yep." Batman grinned as he sprayed the liquid bandage onto the wound and Jack bit back a colourful curse as his eyes watered and he began to laugh again.
"Thanks for the warning." He slumped back into Alfred's protective embrace and realised his hand was being held in a small one. He ran his thumb lazily over the back of Dick's hand and squeezed gently. "'M ok Dickybird, really."
The rest of the world faded.
He missed the arrival of the paramedics, and of Commissioner Gordon, or how Superman morphed into Clark Kent. The one thing he didn't miss was the firm steady weight of Alfred and Dick with him and that was the only reason he didn't come out swinging when he woke up strapped on a gurney.
The scream that tore from his lips however was enough to make the blood run cold and it was all that Bruce could do to hold him down.
"You're sending me back!" eyes wide, pupils blown and he screamed again.
"No Jack, no. Please calm down." Bruce began to unbuckle the straps that held the man down and ran a hand across the scarred cheek.
"He really should be in Gotham General Mr Wayne, he's got a laceration to the abdomen, and he's probably re broken his collar bone." The paramedic protested. Bruce glared at the man as Jack sat up and began to shake.
"Clark, in my desk drawer in the library is a number for Dr Nick from Gotham, can you explain the situation and have him meet us at."
Clark nodded.
"Are you going to the hospital with the Paramedics?" Commissioner Gordon asked.
"Su-gar please." Jack whined.
"Yes I know." His voice was a soft croon as Jack leaned against the strong shoulder, only now aware the suit was replaced by Armani. "Is the wound sealed?" he asked the young Paramedic.
"It is, I don't know what Batman used but it did the trick, but he's lost a lot of blood and he needs his shoulder seen too." The paramedic snapped off the latex gloves and pocketed them.
"And Alfred?"
"Minor bruises." The Paramedic said offhandedly and Bruce perked his ears. Something about this was scratching at his brain.
"Commissioner a word." Bruce walked a few steps away and handed Jack off to Dick and Alfred who rolled down his sleeves after being checked by the second paramedic.
"Of course." Gordon nodded.
"This seem wrong to you?" Bruce asked quietly.
"It does."
"Why?"
"Gotham Paramedics are usually a great deal more attentive and not so quick."
"Yes I had noticed. Let's not make a fuss. Clark and I will take them to the hospital."
"Since the attack has resulted in fatalities I'm sure I can arrange to have them stay a little longer and check credentials, at least until the ME's arrive."
Bruce nodded as Clark came back through the kitchen.
"Nick said he'd meet us in the clinic."
"Excellent, Commissioner Jack is upset and fretting, it would be best if I took him to Gotham with Alfred and Dick. Can you meet us there? Or would you like to come back here to take statements?"
"This could take awhile to clean up, I'll stay here and wait for you to get back."
Bruce shook his hand and Gordon looked down. The long manicured fingers betrayed a strength he wasn't expecting. His opinions of the "Playboy" were rapidly being questioned.
His family were always quick on the uptake as Dick curled into his side and whispered. "Dad what's going on?"
Ever the consummate actor he ruffled the boys hair and smiled. "We're going to take Jack and Alfred to Gotham General to get checked out, and then we are coming home to have dinner."
"Slow roasted chicken." Alfred distracted the child.
"And that apple thing you do? With custard?" Dick asked.
"Alfred made muffins." Jack said quietly as he reached out for Bruce's hand, he needed the solid contact.
"Blech." Dick made a face.
"Hey be nice Dickie Bird they are my Pop's recipe."
"You're teaching Alfred to cook?" Clark couldn't hide his surprise.
"Well technically not cook as such, just bake." Jack corrected but he seemed slower than normal.
"Ahuh." Clearly he was not convinced.
"I'm sure the proof will be in the eating, Sirs." Alfred intoned as Bruce and Clark braced Jack on either side and began the slow progress out into the first garage.
"No doubt." Clark nodded. "Now you want to tell me what that was about?" they settled Jack between Alfred and Dick as Bruce got behind the wheel and Clark positioned himself in the front of the late model Escalade.
Unusually quiet Jack watched the exchange from the rear view mirror, shrewd eyes missed nothing in the conversation. "Not sure they were real Paramedics eh Sugar?"
"No. Neither was Gordon. He's going to keep them at the house long enough to run background checks on them to find out."
"Dad how did you know?"
"They got there too fast, almost as if they were waiting. Even Gotham PD commented on it."
"That and the cack handed job they did on bandaging up my arm." Alfred added.
"And the Paramedic who worked on Jack had filthy nails." Clark continued. "Do we have any idea's as to who was behind the attack?"
Jack furrowed his brow and scowled slightly, the pain in his abdomen burned but he'd had worse and right now it was an irritant. He closed his eyes against the headache that brewed from the blood loss and worried his bottom lip.
He felt in his mind for the 'Clown' only he wasn't were he'd left him on the basement floor. His door was open to his closet and he peered inside and chewed the scar on the inside of his mouth. That too was empty. Now either it was a great sign that the 'Clown' had left permanently, or that somewhere Jack was locked up and he was The Joker.
He rubbed the back of his head and coughed.
Bruce watched through the mirror, his eyes widened for a moment and he floored the car.
The sudden acceleration pushed Jack back into the leather seat and he let out a soft whompff.
"Clark." Bruce looked pointedly at his friend who immediately turned around to scan the pale man in the back seat.
"Scopolamine, small trace. Nothing else, elevated heart rate, he's beginning to sweat it out."
"Jackie you got a headache?" Bruce asked gently.
"Hurts." His voice was unusually slow and thick, he felt sluggish.
"Hurts how?" Bruce pressed as Alfred wrapped a blanket around the shivering man and Dick patted his arm.
"Feels green." Jack offered confused.
"What?" Clark's eyebrows hit his hairline.
"Shit. Jackie what does it taste like?"
"Taste?" He tossed his head against the back of the car and let go a high pitched chuckle as Alfred and Dick looked on horrified.
"Yes sweetheart, what's it taste like?"
"Mmmm, tastes like purple I guess."
They made it to A&E just as Jack passed out.
"Mr Wayne you can stop panicking now." Nick laughed softly as he pulled the pressure cuff from Alfred.
"Yes well you have armed men attack your home and family see how you feel." Bruce snarked back and even Clark rolled his eyes.
"Firstly Mr Pennyworth is fine. A few bruises and some Ibuprofen for the inevitable aches. Jack is also fit to go home." Alfred hopped off the table and pulled his jacket back on as he watched Bruce be lead away by the doctor.
"What caused the synaesthesia?"
"Near as I can make it, was the shock. I've done a toxicology workup but there is nothing there that shouldn't be, no narcotics which is what we would normally expect to see. He is physically much improved, and I must admit it is very impressive, what you and Mr Pennyworth have done. Emotionally however he is still very fragile."
"Yes, according to his Psychiatrist he still has flashbacks and abandonment issues."
"Will you send him back to Arkham?" Nick steered him into the next room. Jack fidgeted with the bandages on his arms while Dick leaned into his side providing support and comfort.
"Hey Su-gar." Jack's voice was unaccountably soft and underneath was a fear.
"No." Bruce smiled as he cupped the slender neck and pulled the unresisting man towards his chest.
"Master Bruce, might I suggest, since we can leave, that we go home. Lord knows what Gotham PD have done to the house."
"Or dinner." Dick nodded sagely and set everyone off in a fit of giggles.
"Indeed. Let us make haste." Alfred motioned to Dick. "I shall bring the car around sir."
"Thank you. Jack please wait for me, I just need to sign some papers."
"Ah, sure." Nervously he licked the inside of his mouth and went back to worrying the cloth bandage.
"They didn't pick up on the scopolamine." Clark spoke into the hidden comm. in his ear.
"Speaking of which where are you?"
"At the Manor helping Commissioner Gordon, apparently Mr Wayne is still at the hospital with The Joker."
"Ah, thank you by the way." Bruce smiled as he scrawled his name on the discharge summary.
"Welcome, one of us had to be here, Mr Wayne is secure and I anticipate he'll return shortly. Commissioner Gordon has some interesting information about our now in custody paramedics."
"Oh? Do tell."
"One of them spoke Russian."
Bruce stood stock still, his foot still in mid air. "Russian? Do you know the dialect?"
"Um, no it's all the same right?"
"For a man with super hearing sometimes you disturb me more than you know."
"I can hear you rolling your eyes. I take it this is significant?"
"Absolutely. Mr Wayne is enroute with his family. Batman out."