Hey guys. So, new chapter here. As usual, thanks goes out to my beta, TheMadCapLaughs for all her help. Hope you guys enjoy the chapter and please remember to leave reviews.

Chapter 29:

Every now and then, Batman would see Jack glance at him from his periphery before looking quickly away again.

The crusader could see he was afraid of him, which was as strange as everything else.

Because the Joker had never been afraid of him.

It would be nearly twenty-five minutes before they reached the cave. As they approached the cave's maw, Batman was surprised to feel a mild kind of relief, realizing that the silence had been unsettling to him. In the past, whenever he'd had the Joker with him, the lunatic hadn't been able to keep his mouth shut for more than a few seconds at best. Jack's contrasting silence was bizarre.

Bruce radioed through to Alfred, telling the butler to not come down to the cave until informed otherwise. Alfred, being Alfred, hadn't burdened him with asking why.

Jack's eyes widened as the heavy metal doors - camouflaged as the surrounding rock - parted, allowing them entry. His expression remained that way as they pulled onto the runway and then the landing, eventually coming to a halt.

"Watch out." Batman said before pressing the button to open the roof.

Jack turned towards him, unsure of what he meant, and a moment later, the roof slid open, Jack looking up, startled. The roof of the cave was gargantuan. Sets of tiny lights blinked at him. As Jack's vision adjusted to the dark, he realized they were the eyes of bats, regarding him softly. The silence was broken only by the occasional sound of beating wings far above, as the bats fluttered from one rocky crevice to another.

Without a word, Batman leapt from the cabin, one, swift motion, landing almost silently on the ground.

"Come with me," he said.

For a long moment, Jack watched him with uncertain eyes, before deciding he better do as he was told. The giant man hadn't done anything to him yet, but he knew all too well that could change in an instant, should he mess up in some way.

Slowly, he undid his seatbelt and stood, struggling as he climbed awkwardly over the car's edge, lowering himself carefully on to the ground.

By the time he finally turned around, Batman was already halfway across the space. Jack hurried to follow him.

But he couldn't keep his eyes from wandering about the giant, cavernous area, taking in the incredible array of objects. Jack was sure he'd never seen anything like it. It resembled a strange museum, showcasing the outrageous and extreme.

He noticed first a giant replica of a Tyrannosaurus Rex dinosaur, accurately proportioned from the looks of it. The dinosaur looked real – was it stuffed? – but no, that wasn't possible; dinosaurs had been extinct for 65 million years, and Batman wasn't that old. His attention was diverted by a giant penny equal in size, standing at least twenty feet high, and Jack found himself wondering how one could possibly acquire such marvels.

He then noticed the great array of computer monitors and consoles, far more advanced-looking than anything he'd ever seen. "Are you rich?" he asked, as he hobbled along behind the vigilante.

Batman grunted.

"I have resources," he replied vaguely.

"Oh." Jack breathed, his eyes continuing to roam.

Within seconds he noticed a giant playing card, looming from the dark, sporting a face that bore a disconcerting similarity to the one he'd seen in the dim reflection of the Plexiglas, in that cell they'd kept him in.

Without really thinking, he started towards it, his curiosity peaking. He stared up at the card, his head tilted to the side as he studied the image. A white face with an impossibly wide grin, all the teeth visible, head adorned by a jester's hat. It was a replica Joker card of the type found in packs produced by the Monarch company. Jeannie had owned a Monarch pack; he'd use it to play cards with her, or perform tricks for her. Dimly, he recalled the two Jokers; one with a red hat and white collar, the other with a black hat and red collar.

Then it struck Jack. Joker. That's what they'd been calling him in that prison they called a hospital.

Batman glanced over his shoulder to make sure he was still being followed, only to find Jack had stopped, and was now standing, staring up at the giant playing card, his expression puzzled and afraid.

The vigilante sighed.

He'd forgotten about that, but should have realized it would in the least trigger some kind of recognition in Jack, considering the card had once belonged to him; that he'd used it in one of his countless elaborate schemes against the detective.

He wouldn't remember that now, but the impression would still be there, doubtless.

Batman began towards him.

"Is… is that what I look like?" Jack asked timidly, looking down at his white hands.

Batman exhaled loudly.

"You look similar," he said.

There was a long pause.

"… Why?" Jack asked after a moment.

"It's a long story…" Batman said. "There'll be a chance to discuss it later. But not right now. We've got to get to the hospital."

Jack nodded vaguely, his eyes moving back to the card.

"Okay," he said after a moment, wishing he weren't so confused. Nothing made any sense to him; it all seemed unreal.

Batman again turned, walking away, expecting Jack to follow suit.

And for a few feet, Jack did, until he caught sight of a long table, sporting a number of beakers and test tubes, microscopes and other pieces of equipment.

He stepped towards it.

"Oh, wow…" he murmured to himself. His eyes scanned over the numerous instruments, hot plates and beakers containing chemicals, and several papers containing handwritten notes.

He bent down, examining some of the writing on a sticky pad next to a vial containing a yellow liquid. The note detailed the chemicals components and their amounts, and he knew right away what the chemist intended to concoct.

Without pause Jack reached out, plucking the vial from its holder, and brought it to his face, scrutinizing it.

"Put that down!" Batman snapped, and Jack startled, jumping and fumbling the vial in his hands, trying desperately to catch it before it went crashing to the floor. The liquid seeped onto the ground, hissing, then dissolved.

"Oh no! Oh no, no, no!" Jack began, his voice shaking. "I… I'm sorry. I di-din't me-mean… I wa-was j-just looking."

Batman came stalking towards him, more agitated then angry. He'd forgotten for a moment who he was speaking to. Seeing the Joker messing around at his chemistry lab had set him off.

Certain Batman was going to hit him, Jack reared backwards, trembling.

"I-I thought that m-maybe… maybe I could help you wi-with this…" he stammered, again stepping back as Batman came within a few feet, glaring at him.

"Help me?" Batman questioned, his voice heavy.

Jack nodded weakly.

"It… it's an anti-neurotoxin you're trying to make, right?"

The vigilante eyed him intently, saying nothing for several seconds.

"… You figured that out by looking at my notes?"

"Y-yes Sir… Batman, I mean," Jack nodded, stepping further back. "B-but you're using the incorrect base."

Batman said nothing for a moment, relaxing his stance, suddenly interested in what Jack had to say. He'd been working on this formula the last, few weeks, not religiously, but enough to the point of frustration at not having been able to get it right quickly.

"Go on," he said, folding his arms.

Jack swallowed thickly, and took a deep breath.

"You need an organophosphate-degrading enzyme. Organophosphorus Hydrolase, or Organophosphorus Acid Anhydrollase. Either one of those would work. It depends on whether you want it in the form of a decontaminating foam, if it's for surface remediation, or, um, an encapsulating enzyme for in-vivo therapy."

For nearly a minute, Batman remained silent, studying Jack closely.

He was right, Bruce realized, and he was an absolute genius, that was clear. He'd known it before, having dealt with the Joker and his multitudinous array of toxins. But it was Jack's sudden burst of articulateness that struck him the most. His evident ease as he talked about this stuff. The stammer had momentarily gone. Clearly, this was easy territory for Jack; a comfort zone of sorts. But he didn't sound like the Joker, either. He sounded calm, rational, matter-of-fact; sane.

It occurred to Batman that he'd just witnessed something fairly remarkable; a fleeting glimpse of the man Jack Napier might have been, had he avoided the chemical dip - or grown up in a nurturing and supportive home environment.

Seeing his brilliance displayed without malicious intent, seeing it used for the purpose of doing good, not bad, cast it in an entirely different light for Batman. For the first time in a long time, he thought about how he could utilize that genius; how it could be used to better things, not make them worse. And for the first time, it seemed, perhaps that was actually possible, that it wasn't just a pipe dream, but something truly attainable.

But right now, that would have to wait, as Bruce remembered the task at hand.

"That's good advice." Batman answered. "I hadn't thought of it… Thank you."

Jack's gaze quickly fell to the floor, unsure of how to react.

He wasn't at all used to being thanked, for anything. And he'd been so sure he'd done the wrong thing, he wasn't sure why Batman was thanking him at all.

After a moment, he heard the detective again speak.

"Let's go."

Jack glanced up at him.

"D… do you want me to c-clean this?" he asked softly.

"No." Batman answered quickly, turning and beginning to walk.

Jack stood and watched a moment, when Batman looked over his shoulder at him.

"Are you coming?" he asked sharply, and Jack snapped to attention, looking down sheepishly and nodding.

It was then Bruce noticed another difference; even though it wasn't logically possible.

Jack seemed of lesser stature than the Joker.

Bruce knew the reasoning behind the illusion.

Jack walked hunched forward, his head held down, his arms held in close to his body, or wrapped around his torso. The Joker, on the other hand, stood straight and tall, showing off his considerable height to full intimidating effect, his head held high. His stride was long, with a pronounced strut. It oozed confidence, cockiness, majesty. Jack, on the other hand, walked with a short, jerky stride, seeming almost to wobble as he moved. Jack's stride, Bruce noted, was ironically more akin to a clown's than the Joker's had ever been.

But then, Batman had never really considered the Joker to be a clown in the first place.

Cruelty had been Jack's constant companion, and Bruce had to keep reminding himself of this fact as he tried to push aside his feelings of hostility towards the Joker. Batman exhaled sharply, turning and again starting for his inventory of extra suits.

Jack continued after him, looking up every now and then to take in his surroundings. He knew he should keep his curiosity in check, that it was likely going to get him in to even more trouble, but he couldn't help it. He'd never seen any place like this, nor any of the items in it. It was like being on a movie set, or inside a giant toyshop.

Whoever this man was, he was exceptional. That was obvious just to look at him. He was large and imposing, yet he moved with a deft smoothness; balanced, effortless, and unbelievably fast. His reaction time was something to behold; his senses alert beyond all reason. Jack wondered if he had total recall. He must have trained for years to get this way, Jack thought. Maybe he's an ex-Marine or something.

Jack's attention was caught particularly when he looked to his left and saw an array of glass display cases, each showcasing a costume, several of which looked similar to the one Batman now wore. Some looked like older versions. Others were obviously designed for specific purposes, each containing the bat-ears and bat-symbol emblazoned on the chest; there was a high-tech wet suit for underwater use, one with an attached jet pack, and another that looked like it was designed for use in space. There were other costumes, too. A female version of his own suit, plus a series of outfits apparently designed for a young boy or teenager, each featuring a red, medieval-style top with an 'R' badge, a yellow cape, green pants and a domino mask.

His eyes scanned over each, taking them in, when they fell upon one in particular, different from the others. It looked like it must have been brightly colored at one time, but was now soiled and dull, tattered, in some spots torn to shreds.

Once again, his curiosity took over, and he began towards the case.

When Batman no longer heard steps behind him, he turned, an immediate rush dropping down through his stomach when he saw where it was Jack was headed.

He stepped quickly after him, his mouth opening to tell him no, to stop and come with him.

But Jack had already reached the case, and was staring at it intently.

"Was… was this yours?" he asked.

Batman felt his hands clench to fists, his jaw setting tight.

This wasn't any good. This wasn't any good at all.

"It belonged to my son," he said, his voice heavy with warning.

But Jack seemed oblivious, continuing to study the damaged suit, stepping closer to examine the burnt threads and charcoal-colored patches.

"Your son?"

Batman said nothing. He was watching Jack now with deadly eyes, his apprehension returning. Perhaps "Jack" is doing this on purpose, he thought. Perhaps this was all some trick of the Joker's, a way to worm his way further inside Batman's world and wreak havoc on his mind and emotions.

"It's been burnt," Jack continued, unaware of Batman's growing anger. "Did… did something happen?"

"… There was an explosion." Batman hissed through gritted teeth.

Jack turned towards him, a look of shock in his eyes.

"Oh, no. I-is he… is he alright?" His voice shook with the question, clearly upset.

Batman glared at him hard now, his eyes cold. He could feel himself stiffen, his own body going rigid with rage.

The look of pure unknowing in Jack's eyes told him this wasn't a game; that he really didn't understand what he was asking. But it failed to quell Batman's sudden, all-consuming anger. The idea of such questions coming from the Joker's own lips - asking in apparent ignorance about a boy he'd killed - pushed him past all reasoning, slamming against a nerve forever raw. A tragedy Bruce would never be able to move past, no matter what had happened since.

Jack noticed, flinching visibly, stepping back as Batman reached for him, grabbing him by the shirt and jerking him forward with little effort.

"He isn't alright and you KNOW that!"

Jack's entire expression had morphed in to one of complete terror, his eyes huge, his brow creased, his mouth hung open, unable to form words.

Batman stared back at him, teeth bared in a snarl.

But as the seconds passed, Batman grew more and more aware of the unadulterated fear on Jack's face, and soon he noticed the thin man trembling within his grasp.

It dawned on him what he was doing, the mistake he was making.

In a growl of frustration at his own lack of control, he shoved Jack away.

And Jack stepped back, stumbling away, making it only a few feet before his legs gave out beneath him and he crumpled to the ground. Instinctively his hands came up over his head as he curled his body into a shell, trying to protect himself from a hypothetical beating, his entire frame shaking.

"I-I'm ss-sorry! I-I'm s-sorry!" he cried, hoping it would somehow stop the enraged man from beating him senseless. "Pah-please, I'm ss-s-sorry…"

Batman stared at him, momentarily stunned by this display of naked terror from the man he considered his deadliest adversary. But he wasn't dealing with the Joker. The detective's heart sank as he saw how afraid Jack was; a fear only his father had ever really been able to instill. That he somehow reminded Jack of the brute appalled and saddened him, and it snapped him back to his senses.

Cautiously, he stepped towards the still trembling man, and bending down just slightly, he held out a hand.

Jack sensed his approach, and fell away, halfway on to his back, curling his arms tighter over his head.

"Please…" he continued to beg, his voice sounding frail. "Don't… d-don't hit me…" And Batman only felt worse.

Why the hell had he done that?

This man didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve to be made to feel this way. Not after everything he'd already been through.

He sighed.

"I'm not going to hurt you Jack," he said, making sure to soften his tone. "I'm… sorry for getting angry at you. It was my fault. I shouldn't have done that."

Several seconds past, Jack not moving from his position, still keeping his head covered, and Batman decided it was best to just wait for him, to not make any sudden movements.

And finally, after nearly a minute, it yielded results. Jack slowly and hesitantly lowered his arms from his head, staring up at the vigilante with wide, uncertain eyes. He was still very much afraid, but at least he could look at him again. That was a start.

Batman lowered his hand further, offering it for him to take.

But Jack wouldn't move, continuing to sit there, looking up at him as a child might.

It was clear he was still too frightened to make any real moves, and finally, after a long moment, the crusader sighed, reaching out and taking gentle hold of Jack's wrist, pulling him up from the floor.

Jack gasped audibly at the contact, and it didn't escape Bruce's notice how easily he was able to pull him up, how incredibly light he seemed. Jack gave no resistance, no struggle. So utterly different from the Joker, who at times fought with the strength of a demon, often escaping Batman's grasp from twisting and turning and wriggling so hard.

Once he had the thin man steady on his feet, stabilizing him by holding him under the arms, Bruce forced a small smile.

"You're alright now." .

Jack blinked at him.

"You aren't going t-to hit me?" .

And Bruce shook his head, feeling his heart sink.

"No." He answered. "And I'm sorry if I made you think I was. I was angry about something, but it… it wasn't your fault. Not yours."

Still Jack stared in puzzlement.

"I… I'm sorry." He said softly after a moment. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"

Batman shook his head.

"No. It wasn't your fault, Jack. Alright? Don't apologize. It wasn't you. It was … someone else. Someone who isn't you."

A long moment of silence passed between them.

"You aren't mad at me?" Jack asked.

Batman shook his head.

"No, I'm not." He gave Jack's arms a gentle squeeze. "Now come on. Let's get you suited up."