AN: Useless comment of the day: I should not listen to the Charlie the Unicorn videos will writing fan fiction; they mix with Batman in my mind. In my defense, Charlie and Bats have a lot in common, attitude-wise, and I can absolutely picture the Joker shouting randomness such as "We're on a bridge" and "The door can see into your soul!"

On a more serious note, I want to give a special thanks to all the anonymous reviewers that I can't respond to. It means a lot to me that you're willing to leave comments.

Thanks for the reviews! I never expected to reach five hundred.

Happy Joker somehow managed to be just as disturbing as Weepy Joker.

He shouldn't have been; certainly he looked more like himself now than he had when he'd been sobbing. The clothing wasn't quite right, aside from the coat, and as carefully chaotic as Crane had made the makeup—Batman realized he'd managed to paint over the scabs without reopening the infected wound—it still didn't look as if the Joker had applied it himself. Still, it was close, as close as could be done under the circumstances, and only the lack of green tint to the hair kept it from being a passable imitation.

But it wasn't the appearance that made him look off. It was the expression.

The Joker smiling wasn't anything new. Batman could count on one hand the times he'd seen the clown not grinning so widely it was almost physically impossible. It should have been physically impossible, given his scars. It had to be painful, at least. But this wasn't the smile he'd gotten used to. It was the smile of a child who'd just been reunited with a lost puppy, as opposed to the smirk of a lunatic who'd just opened fire in a nursing home. Even when he'd been sobbing and terrified, a spark of the monster inside had been visible, up until the breaking point. That was gone now, replaced with pure, innocent joy.

It made him even more uncomfortable than the hug.

"Get off," he growled, pushing to no effect whatsoever. If anything, the Joker held on tighter.

"I missed you," the Joker said, for what must have been the hundredth time. "God, this is wonderful. It's like the Fourth of July, Batsy."

"What?" He had no idea what was going on in the Joker's head—thank heaven for small comforts—and he wasn't sure that the clown did either. He didn't just look bizarrely happy, he looked dazed, the way he tended to after being concussed. It's like he's getting drunk off my presence. Oh, there was a mental image he could have done without. "Let go."

"And risk you vanishing into thin air like a vanishing thing?" He squeezed tighter again, managing to make it painful through the armor. Bruce was fairly sure his ribs were starting to crack. "No way."

"You don't make any sense." This was ridiculous, he ought to be strong enough to break out of a hug, especially after the martial arts training. And the fact that the Joker seemed to have lost what little hold on reality he had left. "Stop hugging me."

The Joker giggled, also in an oddly innocent way that sounded nothing like his usual rasp of a laugh. Bruce wasn't sure if he'd heard the command at all. He certainly looked dazed enough to have blocked out words.

"Joker. Off." The clown giggled again, and with a sigh, Batman turned his head to look up at Crane, still seated on the bed. "Make him get up."

"And just how do you propose I do that?" He sounded sullen, eyes focused on the Joker. His arms were crossed over his chest, expression unreadable.

"You're the psychiatrist." It felt as if he was being to asphyxiate. "You tell me."

"He's happy, you idiot." His voice dripped with scorn. "Let him have his moment. God knows the last few days have been horrible for him, thanks to you."

Another innocuous laugh. "Jonny called ya stupid."

"Really." He tried to ignore the Joker, an increasingly impossible task given that the man's hair was now brushing against the exposed parts of his face. The fact that his hair smelled like shampoo for once as opposed to blood, grime, and dye didn't make it any less annoying. If anything, it was only another reminder of how disconcertingly un-Joker this was. Deciding his sanity would fare better if he didn't pay attention to this nonsense, he looked to Crane once more. "Exactly how long is this 'moment' going to last?"

The doctor shrugged, glaring down at him. "Until he feels secure enough to let go." He paused, smirked slightly. "Hours, maybe."

Lovely. So now the captive capable of some rationality was angry at him for no apparent reason. Is he upset that the Joker recovered? But that made no sense; he couldn't have enjoyed being the man's caretaker if he'd tried so hard to snap him out of it. Maybe he was angry because Batman had succeeded where he hadn't.

Come to think of it, why had Batman been the one to wake him up? He'd been the one to break him in the first place, the idea that the Batsuit was enough to erase that association was just stupid. And the Joker was anything but stupid. "Joker."

There was no response.

"Joker." He pushed against him again. The spikes of the armor must be digging painfully into the clown's clothing and skin, but when he pulled back he looked anything but hurt. His eyes were still sparkling with that intoxicated and distant light, and he was still giggling like a little girl around her crush.

"Yeah, Bats?"

And to think he'd thought the Joker without makeup was unnerving. Even when his paint was gone, his expressions had never looked this calm, this human. Bruce didn't like it. Logically, the Joker was a person, and Bruce had told him that more than once. Hell, it was pointing out that unpleasant fact that had given the Joker a breakdown in the first place. Still, knowing that was one thing. Seeing it was quite another.

Seeing it was beyond uncomfortable.

"What are you so happy to see me for anyway? Aren't you—" He paused before he could say 'upset.' Reminding the Joker of his moment of weakness, especially in such a compromising situation, could be a very bad idea. The man was about as a stable as a half-dismantled Jenga tower. "Angry?"

Joker stared, sucking on the inside of his cheek. "Angry? Why would I be angry?" He gave Batman a scrutinizing look, as if expecting to find the answers in the vigilante's appearance. "Ya didn't start a, uh, torrid love affair behind my back or something, right? 'Cause that's not cool. You're my Bat." He looked serious as he could while so out of it for approximately one second, and then collapsed into a helpless laughing fit on top of Batman.

If he could get free, Bruce wasn't sure he'd be able to keep himself from punching the man. "Joker."

"Don't push him about it," Crane said, suddenly. The scorn and anger were gone, though his voice held the subtle condescending tone it always had. It seemed almost unintentional. "If he repressed it, you'll do serious damage by bringing it up before he's ready."

He considered it. He preferred Lethargic Joker to Dazed and Confused Joker, beyond a shadow of doubt, but the former version did make life that much more difficult. "How serious?"

"Don't do it." It was impressive, really, how deep and intimidating the doctor's voice could get in comparison to his slight stature.

"If you don't want me to, get him off," he responded, voice just as hard.

Crane glared as he stood, walking over to them with just a hint of a limp. His injuries had either healed quickly or he was good at hiding them. He knelt beside the pair, Batman still pinned to the floor by the Joker's embrace. "Joker?"

If the Joker heard him, he didn't acknowledge it. It seemed he wasn't seeing the world beyond Batman at the moment.

"Joker." He held his hand close to the clown's head, snapped his fingers.

He looked up, focusing on Crane for the first time since waking. For a moment he looked bewildered, as though he'd just noticed his other companion. Then his eyes focused somewhat. "Oh. Hi, Jonny."

"Hi, Joker. Do you want to get off of the floor?" He spoke slowly, as if talking to a very young child.

"Nope. Hugging." He tightened his grip again in emphasis, and Batman was sure he felt his lungs forced shut.

"You don't want to see your new room?"

"Huh?" He sat up, finally ending the hug, though he was still sitting on Batman's legs. He turned his head as far as it would go in each direction, taking things in. He looked lost as ever, though he managed to focus enough to pin Batman's shoulders back down when he realized the man was trying to struggle his way to freedom. "Hey, it's not all concrete and death. Where are we?"

"In the Batman's house. He moved us in here when you were asleep."

"You gave me a room that wasn't a cinderblock hell?" The Joker stared down at Batman again, positively sparkling with joy. Well, that could lead nowhere good. "You're the best Bat ever." He leaned down again, lightning fast, and before Batman could stop him, kissed him straight on the mouth.

He did hit him then, and hard enough to send the clown flying back against the bed.

Batman had punched him. Batman had punched him. Batman had punched him. Forget the Fourth of July, this was better than Christmas and Halloween and Easter mixed together. He wasn't sure why getting attention from the Bat felt so much more wonderful than usual. All he knew was that it did, and he didn't want to waste the moment by dwelling on the 'whys.' He collapsed against the side of the bed, giggling helplessly.

Someone—Jonny, judging by the size of the hands—had hold of him, trying to pull him up. It could have been the Queen Mother herself and he wouldn't have cared. He didn't feel gloves, so it wasn't Batsy, and not worth his attention.

"Fantastic, Batman," Jonny was saying, as he dragged the Joker onto the bed. He had an odd way of making Batsy's name sound like two separate words. "Absolutely fantastic. I'm sure concussing him will help to level him out."

"He violated me."

"He's got the mindset of a three-year-old on sugar at the moment. I'm sure his usual sexual fixation was the last thing he was thinking about. You just wanted to hit him."

Ah, Jonny. Silly little scaredy cat and his need to overanalyze everything. He took Jonny's wrists and pulled him down on the bed beside him. He looked angry. Well, anger mixed with something else. "Leave Bats alone, angel. It's not his fault he doesn't know how to show his affection." He glanced around the room again, noting the adjoining bath. The only other door, beside the closet, led to the hall. "So…where's your bedroom?"

"We're sharing."

Sharing? He blinked. Well, that was going to cramp his lifestyle. "Er…so where are you gonna go when Batsy and I have 'grown up time'?" He might fit under the bed, but that would be really awkward, as would the closet.

"Jesus Christ." Batman stood, looking so deliciously angry. "That's it, I'm going to bed."

"Can I have a goodnight kiss?" he asked. Beside him, Jonny groaned for no apparent reason.

Bats ignored him, turning his attention to the ex-psychiatrist. "You. Either fix this or I'm breaking his jaw."

The Joker frowned. Batsy shouldn't be ignoring him for Jonny. He'd been joking about the torrid love affair, but if the Scarecrow was involved with the Bat behind his back, he was going to cut him open. And then use the straw inside to start the fire he'd set to this mansion.

"Your respect for the therapeutic process is truly admirable, Batman."

Bats muttered something else in his ridiculous yet somehow sexy growl and stomped out of the room. There was a sound like he was shoving something up against the door. The Joker was contemplating what it could be and how he was going to go about breaking out when he felt Jonny's arms wrapping around him, hugging like a scared little girl. "Jonny?"

"I missed you so much." The words were muffled, as his face was all but buried in the Joker's shoulder. Hey, the purple coat of sex was back. When had that happened?

Come to think of it, what was Jonny talking about? Missed him? He hadn't gone anywhere, right? Though…he couldn't remember how he'd gotten in this room. Last he remembered, he'd been talking to Bruce Wayne in the cell, but now that he considered it, he couldn't remember what they'd been talking about. Or how he'd gone from there to here. It seemed like he'd needed a hiding place or something, as if he was playing hide and seek inside his head. But he couldn't remember what he'd been hiding from. Bruce? That was stupid. He didn't like Bruce, or even the idea of Bruce, but he wasn't afraid of him.

Not that he recalled, anyway.

However he'd gotten here, he realized he didn't want to think about it. The kickboxing butterflies in his stomach had started back up again, albeit faintly. Whatever the reason, it couldn't be too important. He wasn't in that boring little cell anymore, and that was all that mattered. The Joker turned his attention to the scarecrow clinging to him like a leech. "You can, uh, let go now. I'm not going anywhere."

"You held onto him for five minutes," Jonny muttered, so quietly that he wouldn't have heard it if not for their close proximity.

He raised his eyebrows. Jonny was jealous? He'd thought they were past that; the strawman was always so vocal in his claims of 'we're just friends' when he was even willing to admit that. Not that that meant a damn thing, but it had crushed Harley to hear about the two of them, and Harley was Jonny's best friend, aside from the brainless voice in his head. He'd have thought Jonny would bury any feelings he might have out of respect for her.

Then again, his fun new meds seemed to make burying things pretty hard. "That's 'cause he completes me," the Joker told him, stroking his hair. "Don't be jealous, that's just how it is."

"Jealous?" Jonny bolted up at once, face going to what he probably thought was an impassive look. "I'm not jealous, don't be ridiculous."

"Don't be ashamed," he countered, taking his friend's hand. "I mean, I'm your first love, it's only natural that you'd be feeling some attachment even after—"

"Who on Earth said you were first?"

He rolled his eyes. Jonny was adorable when he was in denial, but also rather annoying. "Can ya name even one relationship you've had before me?"

"I asked a girl to prom once," he said immediately.

The Joker blinked. He'd expected him to have to think about it. "Operative word being 'asked.' Lemme guess, Carrie, it didn't turn out?"

"No. But that's not the point."

"Sure, it's not." Jonny looked so put out, he had to reach out and ruffle his hair. His friend jerked away and he giggled. "Don't be so uptight."

"Don't touch me."

"You touched me a second ago." He stroked Jonny's hair again, then remembered his own and pulled out a strand. Blond. Clean and untangled, but still blond. Well, that just wouldn't do. He retracted his hand and stood, wincing when he caught sight of the rest of his clothes. "What am I wearing?"

"I tried to recreate your suit for you. Given that I only had the Batman's clothes to work with, it didn't take."

He blinked again. "He gave his clothes to you?"

"No, I raided his closet."

The Joker laughed, pulling Jonny up beside him. "Good job, kitten. Now come on, we're going on an adventure."

AN: "Carrie" refers to the novel by Stephen King, in which the title character massacres her classmates on prom night.

"Jenga" is a game that involves making a tower of blocks and pulling the blocks out one by one until the tower collapses.