I do not own Batman. That whole shebang is © DC Comics. Eleanor Black and everything that goes along with her and this plot do belong to me. Daria Vaudry/Queen of Spades belongs to my friend. The song titles in the chapters belong to their respective artists, named in the Author's Note at the end of the chapter. This fic is rated T for violence, gore, language and some sexual situations. Enjoy.

Joke's On You.
Chapter Twenty-One: Can't Let You Go; Invincible.

The rain hadn't let up since Batman had pulled Darkshade out of that hole, but it didn't bother the rescued vigilante at all. The woman behind the unneeded mask had always loved the rain, always found comfort in it, and her recent trauma had not changed that.

Currently, she was perched on top of a gargoyle on top of one of Gotham's tallest churches with a smile on her face, her coat and hair flapping heavily in the wind as trails of rain streamed along her face and neck. Her eyes were closed and her face was turned into the spray, even though it was cold. She could feel the chill still, but it didn't bother her. The nanomachines were working again and all of insensitivity to temperature would return with her enhanced biology. She knew that and she felt better. Aware. All the pain had subsided—sure, there was still a dull throb around her joints and her still-healing bones, but it was manageable—and the fear that had paralyzed her back in the Cave seemed like a distant memory. Realizing her improved state, she let out a little laugh, quiet and to herself so Batman wouldn't hear from his position below her.

He was standing in the bell tower of the church, trying to hone in on the faint signal the tracker he'd planted on Joker's coat was giving off. Apparently the heavy rain was wreaking havoc with the signal or something and being higher up helped elude the interference. Or gave the tracker a larger range. Something. Batman had explained the situation with much technobabble that Darkshade didn't really understand, so she'd just moved out of the way to let him work and to let herself breathe.

That had only been a few moments ago.

"Darkshade," he called, having to raise his voice to be heard over the wind and the smack of raindrops on stone and shingle. "I've got him."

Moving quickly, but not as fast she had before lest she reverse any of the healing done while she slept, Darkshade gracefully descended from her perch and landed on the stone railing in front of Batman. When she stepped down from her somewhat awkward position on the railing however, she stumbled, not all of her impeccable balance returned. The unexpected movement earned her a heavy look from Batman, a look she tried to return with her usual unimpressed eyebrow raise. It was impossible when her own faith in her enhanced abilities was shaky.

She tried to shake it off, but knew it wouldn't matter. She knew Batman would be keeping track of everything, trying to find some way to keep her from confronting the Joker was whatever protection he had left.

He showed his worry in the worst possible way sometimes.

"He's somewhere near Amusement Mile," Batman rumbled.

Darkshade frowned as something twinged in her mind. There was some piece of information trying to push its way forward, something she knew that would probably be important to their task. She just nodded in response to Batman's information and started to where the grappling line was attached, her mind whirring; Darkshade could feel Batman's gaze, heavy on her back, but she ignored it in favour of provoking his ire at her being on patrol.

"Wasn't there a candy factory there a while ago? That closed down?" she asked suddenly, her memory of the tiny building with the clown head on top breaking through the years of repression; the building had scared her when she was young. She dropped the line she'd been holding.

"Yes. The Joker is probably holed up there, or nearby."

"Well the freaky-ass clown on top certainly fits his M.O."

Darkshade absorbed another displeased look from Batman before the pair grabbed the grappling line they'd used to get up to the top of the locked church at the late hour. They descended rather quickly, Darkshade with her arms wrapped around Batman as tight as she could manage without hurting either of them. Even so, about two thirds of the way down, her arms started to tremble. She prayed that Batman wouldn't feel it, but knew he would. When they reached the ground, she immediately made tracks for the Batmobile while Batman gathered up his line.

The air in the vehicle was tense as they drove north through the city towards the old theme park and Darkshade wanted to be back on top of that gargoyle, basking in the chill of the rain. Only that short while ago, she'd thought everything was going to be fine, but she knew Batman and Bruce beneath the mask was going to be watching her closely until he was sure she'd recovered fully physically and mentally. It wouldn't matter if she said she was fine, if she proved she was fine, it would all depend on his observations. She repressed the urge to sigh and just leaned back in her seat, the roar of the engine filling her head. All too soon, they would be face to face with the Joker again and, if Darkshade was being honest with herself, she wasn't sure she wanted to be there.

A dull ache started to spread out from her stomach, a rolling mixture of panic, nausea, and fear, but she swallowed it down, pushed it to the back of her mind, hoping it wouldn't show on her face. She was scared, but she wasn't going to run away. She couldn't run away, not after talking her way into coming. And she really did want to see the Joker put back in Arkham after what he'd done to the people Darkshade cared about, after what he'd done to her personally; as she remembered her injuries of only a day or so ago, she rubbed a hand across her belly and she started shaking again.

"E—Darkshade." Batman grumbled.

She heard the slip—he'd almost called her Eleanor, something he never did while they were about Gotham in costume. "I'm fine. I wouldn't be here if I wasn't capable of it." Even to Darkshade, her voice sounded defensive and her words didn't make much sense.

The only reply she got was a monosyllabic grunt.

She offered one up in return and then settled back in her seat, her body still trembling and aching in the places she'd been injured. Beads of sweat broke out on her forehead. Darkshade swallowed the urge to agree with Batman's silent insistence that she should have stayed home.

A warm bed and a cup of tea didn't sound like a horrible idea…

No, I've got to see Joker put back in Arkham. He killed my mother and I'm not going to let him hurt anyone else. Not this time.

That dark voice—not the one brought on by the nanomachines, but the one that's in everybody's head—from the back of her mind rose up and told Darkshade, told Eleanor, that it wasn't enough that the demented clown was put back in Arkham, a place from which he'd escaped before.

I'm not going to kill him. I can't do that.

Darkshade closed her eyes, wrapped her arms over her stomach and tried to ignore everything for just a few minutes.

Amusement Mile appeared around them gradually, the silhouettes of the attractions looming over the tops of the buildings and then swaying in the wind above the Batmobile. The air was full of the sound of creaking wood and whining metal, able to be heard above the rain and wind and the sound of the car. They parked in the deep shadows of the buildings closer to the water. When Darkshade stepped out in the rain, she was assailed by the smell of stale food and damp wood emanating from the dead park around her. She screwed up her nose and followed Batman's lead to the ominous silhouette of the clown-topped candy factory just visible in the distance. She was still trembling, still aching.

And it just got worse, with every step she took.

The jog from the Batmobile to the candy factory was a fraction slower than it would have been before Darkshade's capture, but Batman was sure she hadn't noticed. She was moving smoothly and her breathing wasn't heavy, but they were moving slower. He could see the sweat on her brow and the trembling that remained in her limbs and he wanted so bad to tell her to stay back, to let him deal with the Joker, but he knew that wouldn't go over well. She wouldn't agree, she wouldn't stay put, not unless he restrained her somehow and after what Joker had done to her, he wasn't prepared to take that step. But he wasn't sure he would be able to protect her while trying to apprehend the clown.

Too soon, they were ducking behind a neighbouring building, surveying the perimeter of the factory for any signs of henchmen with guns or those hyenas; the wild dogs had not been captured at the house and their bodies had not been found. Some of the hired guns had managed to escape as well, and if any of them were stupid enough to maintain their purchased loyalty, they would be here and they would be armed again, even if it was only after a fashion.

"I don't hear or see anyone from down here," Darkshade whispered. "I'm going up to the roof."

Batman watched her almost silently ascend the fire escape ladder and disappear over the edge. A moment later, her head appeared back over the edge, just a silhouette in the dim light. With just a small motion, she indicated that he should join her. He did, making just as little noise as she did.

"There's a man just inside the back down and I saw two walk by the windows, I'm guessing on an elevated catwalk or something."

"Any sign of Joker or the hyenas?"

Darkshade raised a finger, indicating that he should be quiet and wait. In a brief second of near silence, he heard a faint yipping—an animal in pain. Perhaps the wild dogs had taken a few hits during the scuffle at the old house. How they were injured didn't matter. What did matter was that they were there and presented an obstacle between the vigilantes and their target.

Batman nodded once and the pair moved silently over the roofs towards the candy factory. They watched the window and waited for the guards to go by again before jumping the narrow gap and maneuvering the window open from the outside; since the building was old and in disrepair, it was an easy task. Darkshade slipped in first, her dark clothing blending in with the shadows on the elevated catwalk. Batman followed, his eyes instantly taking in the pools of light around the room, and the thugs gathered around makeshift tables, some holding makeshift weapons, others holding very real guns. The hyenas were tied to the wall with chains and other things that might have been lying around when they stumbled into the factory; there were also pieces of previous schemes lying around that meant Joker had used this place as a hideout before.

The clown in question was pacing around, a mouldy rubber chicken dangling form one hand, and his comically large revolver wrapped in his long white fingers of the other.

The Dark Knight's observations were cut short when the guards on the catwalk started to approach. He looked to Darkshade, who nodded once with a barely perceptible movement and slid sinuously down the platform until she was a decent distance ahead. Batman slipped behind the guards as they passed the patch of shadows and readied himself for the takedown. He knew Darkshade was there and would be able to move in fast enough to suppress any opportunity for one of the thugs to cry out, but Batman didn't miss. Not in a situation like this.

And he wasn't going to let the unpredictable nature of Darkshade's response to being near the man responsible for her torture get in the way, either.

At the appropriate moment, Batman lunged forward and seized either henchmen and slammed their heads together. There was a dull thump that couldn't have been heard more than a few steps away, and the brutes crumpled to the floor, unconscious. That made a little more noise, but Batman caught them before they could hit the metal catwalk with their full weight. Darkshade rushed forward to catch more of the weight and, between the two of them, the crash was muffled into near non-existence.

With only a slight nod between them, the pair of vigilantes moved the bodies to one side and then quickened away before someone came to investigate.

On the opposite side of the catwalk, Batman spied a low-hanging I-beam, spanning the width of the factory. There was a matching I-beam at the opposite end of the factory. The close one would serve the purposes of The Caped Crusader nicely. He aimed his grappling hook and fired at the beam, Darkshade matching the movements beside him. As the lines pulled them forward and up, they made a minimal whisper of noise and, having practiced the landing, they both affixed themselves, bellies down, to the top of the beams and stared down at the Joker and his assorted goons.

The steel was cool against her cheek. It was calming. Marginally. Darkshade was very much terrified and a little bit of cold steel wasn't going to make that go away, not after the trauma she had suffered. All her joints were screaming when she tried to move even the slightest bit, telling her to stay put, to not go near the Joker. Her skin was sweaty and that fine trembling was back, but she did her best to not let it show, to not appear afraid. She had to face this, face him. She had to prove to herself that she could do this. She had to prove it to Batman, to Bruce.

Abruptly she felt her control of her appearance slipping. Her eyes shifted rapidly and beneath the mask of Darkshade, Eleanor knew they would look like swirling pools of colour, one rapidly taking over the next as she struggled to keep them black. She tried to swallow back the fear, but it wasn't budging. It remained, a solid lump in her mouth, and impaired all she had gained back from the nanomachines. As long as the trembling didn't evolve into full-on shaking she'd be able to hide it.

All too soon, Batman was in motion again. Darkshade wasn't surprised that she hadn't been apprised of the plan, but the sudden transition of one of the henchmen from his feet on the floor to his ass towards the ceiling was a little startling. It only took her an instant to realize what had happened and to send her own line down to snatch another guard from his feet.

She was surprised she'd been able to respond at all.

Muscle memory?

The joy of what she did?

The overwhelming need to impress The Dark Knight of Gotham?

She didn't care. It didn't really matter, as long as she could move.

The guards' sudden ability to fly caught the attention of the rest of the goons and The Joker and a chorus of shouts and gunshots went up to the ceiling. Batman and Darkshade swung down almost un unison, the attached lines slowing their descent just enough to prevent the breaking of limbs and allowing for suitable dramatics. Cape and coat flared out around the vigilantes and, just for a moment, everything stopped.

Darkshade's black eyes met Joker's as the clown scanned the new arrivals, that comically large pistol in his hands. The barrel, a gapping maw of a thing, was pointed directly at them and there was a gruesome smile on his face.

Darkshade felt her entire body seize, just give up.

Even when Batman moved, she was still.

Her body was suddenly on fire, the pain of every wound sustained at the Joker's hands suddenly tearing through her flesh again. Phantom streaks of blood trekked across her skin, soaking through her clothes, leaving unimaginable stains. The feeling of pseudo-wholeness the nanomachines had instilled vanished, and she was full of holes again.

When the gunshot went off, her brain screamed at her to react, to move, to protect herself.

When the bullet struck her lower leg, she didn't feel the pain amongst the memories.

When one of the lackeys moved forward to grab her, she still didn't move.

It was only when Batman leapt into an attack that she began to move, her body operating without conscious thought.

She went for the Joker.

Author's Note.

Can't Let You Go—Matchbox Twenty.
Invincible—Muse.

OK, so I've had some serious lack of inspiration lately. I haven't written anything in quite a while and it's starting to make me feel off, so I forced this one out. I'm going to finish this damn fic so it can stop kicking my ass. It's taken me FOUR FUCKING YEARS to get it done. FOUR FUCKING YEARS. I'm a little ashamed of myself for letting it take this long, but I'll take the hit in reviews and hits and interest in this story. I just need to GET IT DONE.

And that's my rant. Hopefully you enjoy this chapter. There's just three more and the epilogue now, and I'm going to get them done before February 9th, which is the official four year mark. I am not going to let this reach four years.

Determined.

Also, I apologize if this doesn't seem… I don't know. I wrote it over a period of days, when normally I do a chapter in one or two days, so I'm not sure how that affected it. Also also, there are lots of real-life things on my mind right now which may have to do with the lack of inspiration.

Don't hate me.

Next Chapter: Everybody Knows That You Are Insane.