Shattered Identities

by Kittryn

The Joker finally decides to crash one of Bruces parties and no one knows as well as Batman how to catch the madmans attention. Bruce just never thought he'd use it without the mask to save lives. Unfortunately for him once you've got the Clown's attention you never lose it and the last thing Batman needs is a madman whispering in his ear while a new villain is trying to out him.

8. Chapter 8 - Ghosts Inside

I kinda really like my Robin character... rofl. So sorry for the long winded section between the two. They're cute. Awwww. Cute.

Merry Christmas Fallon.

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Shattered Identities

Chapter 8

Ghosts Inside

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Silence reigned through the hallway, the only sound the near inaudible rush of the air conditioning and the extremely faint muffled cries of frustration from their new house guest. Bruce stood awkwardly in the middle of the hall, his bulking presence taking up quite a bit of room. He gritted his teeth and stared at the vase displayed a few feet away, the priceless vase, family heirloom vase, probably wouldn't last very long with the madman in the vicinity. He should get it moved, but couldn't really bring himself to care. Tim still leaned against the wall, his eyes narrowed in on his mentor, watching his every move, which was nothing. Bruce's lack of incentive in their little chat was frustrating the teen with every second that ticked by. Tim huffed some air out through his nose, gritting his teeth in anger.

"Are we seriously, just going to just sit here all day? Or are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on, and if – ."

"Lang – ."

" – you say Language so fucking help me." Tim warned pushing off the wall and stepping towards the man, one finger zeroed in on the opposing male.

" – uage." Bruce finished, slowly turning his attention to his irate partner and adopted son. Silence reigned through the hall once more but this time it was the calm before the storm. The teen's face darkened with a scowl, his fists curling into white knuckled fists. Finally with a cry of frustration Tim dashed forward and the billionaire raised his forearms, ducking his head a little, blocking his face against the teen's violent onslaught, but not bothering to dissuade his attempts. To stop the ruthless uncontrolled assault on his body. Tim slammed a fist into Bruce's arm once, twice, again, and again, over and over, letting the action slowly sap his strength, his anger. Finally the punching stopped and the kid stumbled back a few steps with a discouraged huff. Then he teetered forward, pushing violently at his mentors sturdy form with one last huff of frustration. Then once more, weakly, when the first attempt didn't budge the man, and he knew the second one wouldn't as well. Tim let his hands slide from his mentor's newly bruised skin, his shoulder's slumping as he closed his eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Tim asked disheartened, watching the floor, not meeting Bruce's eyes when the man finally lowered his arms.

"Why do you think?" The billionaire asked quietly, letting his own shoulder's slump. Alfred had been right, it wasn't the best idea, but Bruce thought he had more time, would have more time.

"You think I can't handle him? I've handled him before!" Tim's head snapped up, determination and disappointment marring his youthful features, his hands balling into fists again. Bruce shook his head in negation, letting his eyes fall to the floor. They stood in silence for a few more seconds, Tim growing incredulous by the second, ready to throw more punches if that was the only thing that got through to the man, but he'd give him some time. Tim knew how awkward Bruce was when it came to personal issues.

"No. He promised to kill you, yes. But, tell. Me. He doesn't interest you. That you're not curious." Bruce demanded and Tim shook his head with a small incredulous laugh, staring at the billionaire as if he were the crazy one.

"Curious? About what? He's an insane homicidal sociopath. There's nothing to be curious about." The teen stated firmly, taking a step towards his mentor, his shoulder tense, brows creased in irritation. Bruce shook his head sadly, his lips pulled into a tight smile.

"Why I keep you away from him." The man revealed, knowing Tim was smart enough to know exactly what he was talking about.

"I know, why you keep me away from him." Tim growled, one finger thrusting towards the ground in a decisive gesture.

"Jason. I know that." The kid insisted quietly, hating the fact that the dead Robin ever existed, held so much sway over Batman's view of him.

"That's not why and you know. That." Bruce stated forcefully mimicking the teens gesture and Tim clammed up, his jaw tightening his brows furrowing father. He tried to hold his gaze with his mentor but had to look away, letting his shoulder slump, because it was true. Tim closed his eyes taking a deep breath, tilting his head he opened his mouth, but Bruce beat him to it.

"Don't make excuses, you know why I didn't tell you and it hurts. I know. But I couldn't have you snooping around him. I needed more time." Bruce informed the teen, letting his muscles loosen a little when it seemed he had gotten through to the kid. The kid tensed up at that, a scowl back on his face.

"Time for what?" Tim snapped in exasperation, throwing his hands out in confusion, fixing Bruce with a confused piercing gaze. Bruce stepped forward as Tim retreated back to his defensive position.

"To figure out what to do with him." The playboy stated sternly, his eyes narrowing down at the kid's continued frown. Tim rolled his eyes, easily meeting Bruce's intimidating gaze.

"How about what you always do with him, send him back to Arkham." The teen suggested, crossing his arms like it was the obvious course of action. Bruce closed his eyes, reigning in some patience, and the guilt the kid's words brought upon him.

"Arkham. Is in shambles. They'll never hold him long enough to make a difference. He'd be back on the street within the week, if we're lucky. The way those so called, doctors, were talking. It probably wouldn't even be a day. I don't need that right now, Gotham doesn't need that right now. I have enough to currently deal with, then to have to chase down the real Joker across the city. Or deal with his retaliations against the fake ones. People would die from his wrath alone." Bruce explained, his brows furrowing in concern, hoping that the teen understood the situation they were in. Tim took a deep breath and finally his eyes softened with a sigh, and a few seconds later he nodded his head, placing his hands on his hips, he stared at the designs on the wall.

"He knows." Tim whispered, worry eating at his wrinkle free face, he gazed fearfully into his mentor's eyes, looking for the solution to all their problems in those steel blue orbs.

"He does." Bruce replied, breaking their eye contact, unwilling to reveal to the teen just how little he could do about that, realizing a bit more the implications of his statement. There was a small pause of silence, and the teen looked down at his feet.

"I'm sorry." Tim whispered quietly, and Bruce immediately frowned, shaking his head, his eyes snapping to his adopted son.

"No. It wasn't you're fault." The billionaire insisted, ready to pound that fact into the kid's head with as many repetitions of that sentence as he needed. He wouldn't let the teen blame himself for this, the Joker would have know whether he had entered the room or not. Tim simply sighed, meeting his mentor's eyes steadily.

"What are we going to do?" Tim asked, concern etched into his features.

"We? Aren't going to do anything." Bruce stated crossing his arms, while Tim raised an eyebrow at him, shifting his weight onto one foot, he crossed his own arms mirroring the man's stance.

"You and Alfred are going to leave the house. I don't want you two anywhere near him, and I don't have the facilities here to hold him. Barbara's at the Bat Cave. I'm not risking her safety by testing our holding cells against the best escape artist in Gotham. That's out of the question." Bruce stated with finality and Tim scoffed, running a hand through his hair a sardonic smile tugging at his lips.

"So you want us to run." The teen sneered incredulously.

"Relocate." Bruce corrected him, narrowing his eyes at the kid's attitude, a sour smirk gracing the teen's lips.

"Run." Tim insisted, the smile not leaving his face, and the billionaire frowned taking a few steps forward, towering over the teen.

"As long as you're not here, fine. Call it what you want. Get your things packed and move. Go keep Barbara company." Bruce suggested, and Tim chewed on his cheek for a moment mulling the demand over. Finally the kid sighed, rolling his eyes up at his burly mentor.

"Fine. I'll take the old geezer and we'll go make friends with you're bats, but remember I don't like this idea." Tim stated, poking Bruce in the chest with one finger his eyes still trained on the man's blue ones, before pivoting around, Bruce barely had time to register the poke before the kid was halfway down the hall.

"Tim?" Bruce called after him, just before he turned the corner. The teen not bothering to turn around.

"Stay away from the Joker." The playboy demanded with a grim expression, watching the kid wave halfheartedly in acknowledgment as he turned the corner.

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Bruce was about to reach the hidden door leading to the Batcave, he wanted to check up on Barbara, when the house com closest to him turned on.

"Master Bruce. I believe you have a visitor." Alfred's voice echoed through the hall. Bruce almost missed the good old days when the man actually had to track him down. He got more things done back then. Bruce changed course, walking up to the com he activated the microphone.

"Who?"

"Lucius Fox. I believe you know him sir." Alfred said haughtily and Bruce rolled his eyes.

"I'll be there in a few minutes."

"And we'll be waiting sir." The supposed butler replied, the billionaire already making his way back into the mansion, barely hearing the man's words. It didn't take him long to reach the greeting room, one with less windows than usual, just in case.

"Lucius." Bruce greeted entering the room and waltzing towards the man.

"Bruce." Lucius replied, grabbing the arm that Bruce extended him, shaking it for good measure.

"It's good to see you... being you." Fox informed him and the billionaire's brows creased.

"What's that supposed to mean? What happened?" Bruce asked while gesturing to one of their expensive arm chairs across the equally expensive coffee table. Lucius took the offer walking around the furniture to take a seat with a deep sigh.

"I'm sure you've seen the news?" His CEO asked and the playboy nodded his head, taking a seat as well, his attention solely on his guest.

"We'll I've spent the good part of the morning trying to keep. You. From taking hold of the company."

"I can't take hold of the company, I signed away any right to run Wayne Corp, to you. And only you."

"Yes. Well that little tidbit hasn't gone public yet, which seems to have been good for me. Considering you came in this morning armed with all of the paperwork needed for it. I've been hassling with that wannabe for hours, and I must say he's rather annoying. Don't ever take the playboy on as you're sole persona. Ever." Fox insisted a rather irritated look gracing his usually serious features.

"I'll keep that in mind." Bruce replied and Lucius let out a little laugh, shifting in his chair.

"He literally had everything he needed to take over the company. Even the blood sample checked out, which is why I came here personally. I had to be sure you didn't get yourself involved in some kind of memory, erasing, I don't know, something. Then I realized that – ."

"It wasn't the right D.N.A?" Bruce finished for him and Fox nodded his head, leaning forward in his seat.

"I tested it on some equipment I've been working on, that will only activate for you, and it didn't work. So either my design is faulty or..."

"It wasn't me." Bruce finished again and the other man gave him a tight smile leaning back again.

"What did you do?" The playboy asked curiously, sure the man did something to postpone the takeover.

"I'm stalling him right now, but you need to take care of this business. The sooner it gets taken care of the better. If I have to divulge that signed paper to the world, I'm going to have a bounty on my head anytime someone wants to pull this stunt, or anything like it again."

"I'll figure something out soon. How many days do I have? Roughly?" Bruce asked, the weariness of the last few days creeping into his voice.

"You have a full week, starting today, definitely. Since the papers we drew up, for the previous change in oversight of the company, dictated a full week before anything is finalized. After that I can't tell you how long I will be able to hold the company without the document. It depends on how good their lawyers are versus ours." Bruce nodded his head at Fox's explanation, leaning back in his chair he crossed his ankle over his knee.

"I shouldn't need that long, but with the way things are going this week I might. Do what you can and keep me posted. The last thing we need is for you to become a target. I want you hidden away the second that document is released to the courts. Let someone stand in for you. I'm not taking any risks with this one." The billionaire replied his gaze far away as he worked through some of the plans he had come up with. Wondering how long they would actually take.

"I'm not going to argue with that, I like my job, and I don't want to die." Fox smirked just as Alfred entered the room, carrying a tray of tea. The two men murmured their thank you's distractedly.

"I would hope not. What was this other me like?" Bruce asked curious, picking up a teacup that was easily dwarfed in comparison to his large hands.

"Irritating, extremely self centered, egotistical. He acted like it was his birthright to run the place. He came in, I'm sure intending to take the place by storm, over turn the leadership and what not. It was nice to wipe that smug look off his face. I suppose no one would be able to tell difference between you two." Fox stated jestingly and Bruce's eyes narrowed in good nature.

"Gee, thanks." The billionaire stated sarcastically a small smile pulling at his lips. His playboy persona was a little obnoxious to say the least. It had actually been nice to run in that political campaign for shutting down Arkham City. He was able to show that he wasn't all needs and testosterone. They both sat for a few seconds smiles on their faces, before Fox sobered up.

"Really though. It would be hard to tell you two apart judging simply from an outsider's point of view. Anyone in Gotham that doesn't know you personally wouldn't look twice, while the ones that do, would probably just think you're simply having a midlife crisis."

"Great."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I'm not sure yet." Bruce reluctantly admitted, he didn't have a solid plan yet and he wasn't going to promise Fox any specific dates.

"That's. Not something we hear everyday. What? You're not going to just, run in guns blazing, so to speak?" Fox asked slightly taken aback. Bruce shook his head slowly his eyes trained on the glass coffee table.

"No. There's more going on right now then just Hush trying to take my identity, someone's taking the Joker's as well. What the outcome of that would be is beyond me. What could someone possibly want with that madman's skin?"

"Well." Fox paused staring at the coffee table as well, before his eyes bounced back towards the billionaire, who looked up to meet him.

"You run the law, yes? They side with you. You do whats right and have the good doers on your side, the well known politics and the famous spotlight. In essence, you run the light, the day. While the Joker. He – ."

"Runs the dark." Bruce stated, and Fox nodded his head in affirmative.

"The criminals, mafia, black markets, the ill moral side of Gotham. If they took over Batman and the Joker."

"They would rule the city. Imports, exports, elections, trafficking, drugs, clean and dirty money trades. Bank accounts, stock markets, hell even movie trends." Bruce whispered, realizing the full impact of losing both their rule over Gotham.

"Just a thought."

"Why couldn't I see that?" Bruce asked quietly, stunned that he didn't realize that himself, it was so obvious.

"You like to pretend the Joker doesn't have as much foothold in this city as he really does." Bruce leaned forward a little letting one hand run through his short hair.

"They want to take over Gotham... Hush wants Gotham, but he can't rule it alone. Someone has to be Joker... but who? I need to find out who his partner is, who's connected to this. I can't make a move on Hush, not while he's in the public's eye. The Joker though, I can close in on him."

"At least you have a start then. Is there anything else you need help with?"

"My grappling gun..." Bruce started into a full recount of the damaged equipment, both men getting engrossed in the discussion.

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The door slowly creaked open, silence reigned through the room, only cut by a slow beeping. Then boots clicked across tiled floor and a deep chuckled built slowly from inside.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here? A little lost birdy? What a brave soul, you, are. Let me take a quick guess why you're here! You want to, play, a little game? Didn't daddy tell you not to play. With fire?" A voiced mocked dangerously, dancing green eyes meeting determined baby blue. Tim crept into the room slowly, leaving the door open behind him, too nervous to actually bring himself to close off his only exit, his eyes trained on the grimy roughed up male reclining in the bed. He didn't let his nerves show however, he kept his eyes fixed on the man lying lazily in the hospital like bed, an IV pumping blood and clear fluids into his veins.

"He did, but I don't see why its such a big deal. I'm not Jason after all." Tim stated venomously, bringing up a topic he knew was sore for the madman, recalling his last encounter with the Joker. He had won that battle, and he liked to think it was because of his skills and not the madman's shock at seeing a living breathing Robin. God Bruce had looked so scared when he had heard, demanded he never set foot near the maniac again, but Tim could handle some nutjob, regardless of the death threats the man threw at him.

"Hmm," The Joker sucked his cheeks in, tapping his fingernails on the bed railing, trailing his eyes up and down, the teen in front of him.

"You're not, no." The madman's eyes snapped back up. He paused for a second then scoffed good-naturedly rolling his eyes.

"Oh, don't look so, tense, love bird. I know I promised to kill you, but! Doing that right now would be boring, and, uh, troublesome to say the least. Oh, but, don't think I'm taking it back. No take-backsies! I will kill you. Just not today."

"I'm not too worried. You're not that scary." Tim stated, crossing his arms and leaning back against a machine, daring the man to state otherwise, to bring up the multitude of people he's killed. The maniac chuckled, nodding his head.

"You're right! I'm not! A little hacked up sure! But scary? Me? Never. I'm just you're average Joe, trying to make sense of the world at large. It's, such a big world." The Joker exhaled dramatically falling back and throwing one arm across forehead, his eyes closed for effect.

"You're not an average Joe, but I've seen men scarier than you." Tim replied, his lips thinning in irritation at the man's antics. The Joker laughed, leaning back forward, he stopped and they stared at each other for a few seconds, before the madman tilted his head. Biting his lip, he gave the teen a once over, his eyes snapping back up to meet those determined baby blue ones, his face going blank.

"Then you're. Not looking. Hard. Enough." The Joker whispered stoically, a sadistic smirk suddenly tugged at his lips, followed by a slow chuckle. The madman leaned back looking bored, he lifted one of his hands up to inspect under the nails, which were filthy. He didn't do anything about it, though. Tim's eyes narrowed, irritation clawing at his insides. Why did he come in here? What was he looking to prove again?

"I've killed more people then you've killed ants." The Joker laughed flippantly, and Tim scowled.

"I've dealt with crazies before, and I still don't see why he worries about you so much. So you get off killing people and don't care about personal gain. I don't see how that's scary. It's just dumb." Tim countered, his eyes narrowed in on the Joker, searching for what he was missing. What was so scary? The guy was crazy sure. Killed a lot of people, yeah. Who did they go up against that didn't? Did Batman simply think he couldn't handle himself, like Jason couldn't? Was that the only reason he didn't want him near the Joker. If Tim could just get to the bottom of it. Figure it out then maybe. Maybe. He could convince Batman, Bruce, that he could help. That he could take the Joker on, could survive and be an asset, that those years training abroad wasn't for his good looks. He just needed to find the root of Bruce's concern. What made the Joker more dangerous than the rest? Wasn't the Riddler basically the same as the Joker. He took hostages and made elaborate traps for Batman to fall into, what was the difference between them? The Joker didn't have a conscience?

The Joker narrowed his own eyes at the boy, worrying the bottom of his lip as they stared at each other for a full minute. Then the madman nodded, tilting his head to the side, a small smile gracing his scarred face, a deep chuckle emanating from his chest, he leaned back into the bed again closing his eyes in amusement.

"You know kid. You and me. We're a lot alike. The Me. And... You." The Joker giggled gesturing between the two of them, his green eyes piercing through Tim's baby blue ones. Tim scoffed uncrossing his arms, this was a waste of his time. There was nothing different between the Joker and the Riddler except the former's penchant to kill at the drop of a hat.

"Please, I'm nothing like you." Tim scowled out, eyeing the man with disgust. This could be funny. Maybe the madman's reply would make this at least an entertaining encounter, rather than a complete waste, give him something to actually think about while Bruce chewed him out. The Joker broke their eye contact, an excited grin stretching his scars.

"Oh ho ho. That's what you think, that's what you both think." He laughed quietly, "Then again you're both wrong, like father like son right?!" The Joker stated, leveling his amused gaze on the annoyed looking teenage.

"Yeah? Fine. Amuse me. Why are we the same?" Tim asked flippantly, ready for some strung up explanation of their childhoods or some bullshit. He heard the Joker liked to make up background stories. The Joker grinned, shifting in the bed he sat up straighter, leaning towards the kid a little, he fixed an unblinking stare onto the teen, their eyes shifting to take each other in. Then the Joker's mouth moved, the word whispered into the air like a slow acting poison.

"Obsession." Tim's heart dropped out of his chest and into his stomach, bile crawling to replace it. That was a joke right, the madman couldn't possibly be referring to... anything really, he was over reacting. He wasn't obsessed with anything or anyone. The guy was grasping at straws.

"What?" The teen breathed out, trying to keep the emotions out of his tone and failing.

"It's simple really. Batman! I mean. Bat. Man. Who wouldn't want a piece of that action!"

"I am not attracted to – ." Tim scoffed, with narrow eyes, ready to leave the room.

"Oh, save it for someone who cares!" The Joker exclaimed cutting him off, "It doesn't matter what stage of the obsession you're in right now, it's still. An obsession. One we share. We. Thrive. On. Me and you, are alike. You and I. Obsessed. With Bats. With. Bruce." The Joker chuckled a little shifting his body a little more towards the kid, his hand on the bed railing, his head over the edge of the bed, keeping their eyes locked. Tim raised a skeptical eyebrow. Sure he aspired to be like the man, admired him, but never sexually, never desired him, not like that.

"You're wrong, which makes sense, because you're crazy." He stated insistently, ready to pivot on the spot and leave the room, but leaving would seem like an admission and the last thing he needed was for the Joker to think he was some kind of competition.

"Oh come on kid! You can deny it all you want! I know... Who you are." The Joker stated, the insanity slipping from his voice for just a second, easily catching Tim's full attention, filling the teen with a fearful dread he hadn't felt for a long time. His muscles tensed on their own, ready for a fight.

"You had a perfect, functioning, family before him. You had a life, a future and what did you do?" The Joker whispered between gritted teeth, sadistic amusement dancing in his eyes.

"You wasted it away, dashing after the man in a cowl and cape. Easily throwing that, boring, life away for just a glimpse of his true self." The Joker let out a dark chuckled, Tim's eyes now riveted to his own. Tim's heart raced a little faster as the madman kept talking, whispering words he didn't want to hear.

"But he doesn't give it does he? He never lets you in... Will never let you in. You know why you're not the first Robin? And you won't be the last? Because Dick gave up. He was tired of chasing, tired of waiting, tired of wasting his life. You'll do the same and some other starry eyed boy will take you're place but, Jason?" The Joker chuckled again, licking his lips, his eyes a little glassy as he took a moment to remember the boy, his lips thinning.

"He came close." The Joker finally whispered venomously, at the memory of the previous Robin. Tim gritted his teeth, his brain running away despite his demand to stay calm. It threw at him every mention Bruce made of the other Robin. Ever recollection that stopped the man in his tracks, every reminder that Batman didn't want Tim to end up like Jason. Didn't want him to, be, like Jason. What if Batman was scared of more than just him losing to the Joker? No. Don't listen. This was madness.

"He was self-righteous, and uh, volatile. Lived on the edge and plowed out his own borders. He pushed Bruce's ethics, his reasons. He was close. So. Close. He wedged his way into the man's steel heart. And then!"The madman paused, letting Tim's heart speed up in fear, disappointment, betrayal, waiting for the man's next words. What Batman, Bruce and the old Robin could have shared.

"I. Killed. Him." The Joker giggled, slowly breaking out into a full laugh. Tim shook his head defiantly, trying to rid himself of the sudden pain, regretting his rash decision to enter this room, humiliation at letting it effect him. He didn't want to think about this, he didn't want to think about any of it. He didn't want to delve into the basis of his desire to find Batman's true identity, he didn't want to know why he was always so angry the man didn't trust him, didn't see him as an equal. Why the mention of Jason always set his blood on fire.

"That's ridiculous. You may claim to know me, us. But you don't know anything." Tim stated calmly anger still seeping into his words, he turned to leave and it was the Joker's turn to scoff.

"You? I don't need to worry about you! That's why I haven't killed you yet! Because you'll never get in there. You'll never, tear, at his walls from the inside with just the. Utter. Of your name. You'll never be Batman's Robin. You'll push and pound and shove but he'll never see you." The maniac sang mockingly. Giving the kid a shrug of pity, and wide innocent apologetic eyes, when the kid rounded on him with an angry gaze and gritted teeth.

"You're wrong." The teen growled out, his features warped with the emotion. The Joker tutted, ignoring the kids anger.

"He'll never notice you're there, you're just a reminder of someone better. You follow him around like a lost puppy, whining for attention that he's too busy to give you. Too busy. Morning. The death of his. Favorite. Little Robin, the one that made him feel. Alive. You're a filler that will never seal that gap." The Joker plowed on regardless, sitting up slowly, painfully, really ready to get this steam train going.

"You're wrong..." Tim hissed out, his fists tightening. The Joker's features finally twisted into anger, as well, at the teens continued denial.

"You weren't even an orphan before this." The madman hissed out leaning over the side of the bed.

"You had. A family! You had a home! And you left it! For this, fucked up, merry go round of crazy town known as Bruce Wayne!" The madman sang, throwing a hand into the air.

"You're a teenage boy, for god's sake! With growing hormones! And yet you spend your nights chasing criminals instead of girls. You'll go on to chase bad men while others your age are getting degrees and falling in love, living real lives! Which is something you'll never have. Not with this life that he's condemned you to. People will die, and they'll die, and they'll die some more! Welcome to the roller coaster of hell kid! This ride doesn't have a pretty stop back at the start, it ends in an explosion of flames and body parts!"

"That's bullshit." The teen pushed through gritted teeth his fists shaking, taking a menacing step forward, who was this man to say he'd never find love? That this life wasn't right. Who was he to tell him how to live? The madman laughed dryly, shaking his

"Was it worth it Tim? Was he worth it? Is running around in a little boy's costume worth the rest of your long youthful life? The training and agony, the loss and death. The destruction and. Vile. Degradation of the world around you?" The Joker hissed back, then he licked his lips a sad expression morphing that scarred face. There was a small pause and Tim didn't want to hear whatever the man had to say next.

"Was. It... right of him?" The madman asked quietly searching the teen's face, concern and pity written on his scarred features.

"To let you? To pull you away from that? What kind of cruel monster removes a boy from his loving home and. Trains him. To be a crime fighter. To fight. His. Crime? His battles? His war?" The Joker continued, letting out a dry scoff with equally dry laughter. The madman nodded his head, leaning back a little he threw his arms out.

"It's okay, Tim. Men in Africa do it all the time! Make little minions for themselves, children who worship them, aspire to be them," He leaned back forward, "grovel for their acknowledgment and approval, because they know nothing else. Just. Like... You." He stated harshly and Tim's jaw started hurting.

"Was that how you wanted your life? Living in the. Shadow. Of what he thinks is. Perfect? What he thinks is. Worth. His. Time?" The Joker turned his head a little, a playful look on his face.

"Is what you do, even right? Just? Is what you've been lead to believe the world is, real?! Beating up people for beating up other people? Does that sound like a solid plan to you?! Fighting fire with fire?! Violence with violence, pain for pain, an eye for an eye!" The Joker stopped suddenly, nodding his head at the boy, his matted hair barely moving with the effort. A knowing grin cleaving his face. He chuckled darkly, breaking out into a loud barking laughter. The madman shut up suddenly, slapping the railing, the sound echoing through the room, almost startling Tim. The Joker leaned forward again, as far over the railing as he could.

"You know why. He does it. Right?" The madman whispered like he held the secret to the world, so quietly the teen had to strain to listen. The Joker paused, giving the kid a sultry look, that had the teen scowling.

"Because it feels good. Makes. Him. Feel good. Sends chills down his spine, tingles across his brain. Blood rushing through his veins." The Joker laughed heartily, rattling the bed railing, leaning back forward.

"Does it feel good to you Robin?! Or do you just want to make him proud? His own fucked up version of a straight A student! His little trophy boy! " The Joker cackled loudly at the outraged expression that twisted the kid's features.

"Enough!" Tim cried out, raising a boot he violently slammed it into the side of the bed, sending it forcefully into the wall, leaving a large dent in the plaster. The Joker jerked from the force of the impact, falling backwards with a loud giggle. His head collided painfully against the wall, silencing his laughter for only a moment, before the bed bounced back, rolling a few inches towards the angry teen. Mad laughter filled the room and the Joker clutched his stomach and injured shoulder with the effort, rolling around on the bed.

"What's wrong little bird?! Didn't you want to play?! Next time bring some cookies – And I'll play – Nice – ." The Joker broke off giggling madly, his eyes squinted in sheer joy at the teen's reaction.

"You're fucking insane." Tim growled out, resisting the urge to punch the man in the face. The Joker's eyes widened as he gasped for breath. The laughter dying out enough for him to speak.

"I'm. Sorry! Do I need to make memo cards? Post it stickers? Should I get a jacket? Care! Criminally insane! Don't poke, prod, or piss off!" The Joker faltered, as the teen turned away from him.

"Hey wait! Where are you going sweetheart? Our play date over already? I thought you. Wanted! To see why Batsy keeps me around! Hey!" The Joker shouted viciously, one hand shooting out, grasping the teen's retreating wrist in an iron clad grip. The madman, lifted the other hand, grabbing a hold of the kids shirt and jerking him down to eye level, making sure the kid was paying attention. He licked his lips as the kid clawed at his hands.

"You know the really fucked up part, cupcake? You and I. We're both just his whimful creations. Both the outcome of his little exper-i-ment. Called life. Being molded to his. Personal needs. Wants. Desires." The Joker leaned in closer, hissing through gritted teeth.

"He made us both. That... Tim... Robin? Is how we're the same." The Joker whispered loosening his grip letting the teen slip away from him. Tim jerked away from the madman the second his hold lessened and he stumbled back. The Joker sat back laughing as the stoic teen pivoted. Tim stopped in the doorway, looking like he wanted to tell the madman something, anything. Instead he slammed the door shut behind him, stalking down the hall, muffled laughter following him, his hands shaking. From anger or, or something. It was anger. Of course it was anger. It was anger. But then... Why did he feel like crying?

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Bruce instantly noticed when Alfred came into the room to sweep away the trays, immediately cutting off the discussion he was having with Lucius Fox. He leaned forward in his chair, watching the man walk through the room with growing concern.

"Alfred. Why are you still here?" Bruce asked fear clawing at his insides, as he took in the man's confused expression.

"I'm sorry sir?" Alfred questioned, freezing in the action of picking up the tea tray, equally concerned, tired eyes meeting the billionaire's.

"Tim. Did he talk to you? Have you seen him?" Bruce stood up from his chair, already knowing the answer to his question.

"I'm sorry sir. I have not. Is something wrong?" Alfred stuttered watching the playboy's tense muscles, and serious expression.

"It was nice seeing you Fox. I'm sure you know the way out." Bruce called behind him as he rushed out of the room, not sparing the occupants a second glance.

"Bruce?! What happened?! Bruce!" Alfred called after the man's retreating form, shaking his head when the male simply disappeared around the corner.

Bruce stalked down the hall heading towards the elevator, fear eating at his insides, what if he was too late, what if – he paused, a sudden chill sweeping down the hall from an adorning branch of the mansion. A section that lead to Tim's room. Bruce back tracked quickly, rushing down the hallway he reached the kid's open bedroom, no sign of the teen, his things still were Tim had left them. The cold wind was coming from farther down, so he ventured on, turning a corner into the hallway that overlooked the gardens. His shoulder's sagged in relief as he rounded that corner. Tim was down the hall a little ways, the window thrown open. Little drifts of snow filtering through, dancing onto the carpeted floor. Tim was sitting on the window ledge, his legs pulled up to his chest, his gaze staring down at the snow covered ground, curled in on himself. As Bruce approached he could tell something was wrong. The teen was tense, the hands gripping his jeans white knuckled. Bruce closed his eyes, letting loose a little sigh of weariness.

"Tim." Bruce called quietly as he reached the boy, the teen didn't startle, simply flicked his eyes onto the male before turning his gaze back towards the grounds.

"I told you not to talk to him." The billionaire whispered sternly, stopping inches away from the teen, concern written across his features. The teen was silent for a few long moments, before finally turning his head, eyes closed, and rest his head on his knees..

"I know." Tim confirmed not leaving the safety of his self induced darkness. The playboy got closer to the teen, looking down on his dark head. Smiling a little at the cowlick from where the boy messes up his hair while he sleeps.

"What did he say?" Bruce asked curiously, hoping he could fix whatever damage the madman had done. Tim simply shook his head, refusing to meet his mentor's eyes. They sat in silence for a full two minutes, Bruce trying to figure out what to say, then to work up enough nerve to just say it. While his mentor sat there, a warm presence by his side Tim watched the snow swirl across the white blanketed gardens, dance across the frozen pond. Finally Bruce sighed and hefted himself up onto the other side of the large stone ledge, the window ledge meant to hold potted flowers, snow melting into his clothes as he sat down. Facing Tim he crossed his legs, studying his adopted son with worried eyes. Bruce cleared his throat looking down at the grounds as well.

"Look, Tim. Whatever he said, it wasn't true. It may sound real, but it's not. He doesn't know anything." Bruce insisted, still unable to bring himself to say those things to the teen's face. Tim's head lifted slowly towards him, intelligent baby blue eyes chilling the billionaire's skin as he turned to meet them.

"He's not insane." Tim whispered assuredly, watching his mentor shift uncomfortably in his spot. The larger male's eyes fell to stare at the stone beneath him, running his hands along the black sweat pants on his thighs.

"No... He's not." Bruce replied slowly, watching the window ledge collect snow as goose bumps broke across his skin from the chill.

"Then why?" Tim asked after a moment, confused and frustrated, unable to comprehend the Joker. The question could be so many things, and the answer could be just as vast, but only one came close to the truth.

"Because he can? I don't know." Bruce trailed off shaking his head, his eyes back on the half weathered stone, taking in the difference between the inside and the outside. The pale rain washed, wind beaten side to the immaculate inside.

"But you do know." The teen answered steadily and Bruce closed his eyes, his brows creasing at the thought.

"Maybe." The playboy admitted, his eyes moving back up to the teen's, who hadn't left their mentor from the start.

"Tim whatever he said, I know it makes sense. That doesn't mean it's true. Doesn't mean that's whatever, is there. I just... you can't listen to him. Harley Quinn – ."

"Did you love Jason?" Tim cut him off staring imploringly into steel blue eyes. Bruce frowned, and he leaned forward a little, confused and entirely weary of this subject.

"Tim. What did he say to you?" Bruce asked more forcefully, he needed to know so he could fix this. He should have watched the kid closer, taken the key, anything to keep this from happening. From letting the Joker flip his Robin's world upside down.

"It doesn't matter what he said, just answer the question." Tim demanded, anger seeping into his own frown. It took Bruce another minute of staring into space, long enough that the teen scoffed, ripping his eyes away from the male. Finally the billionaire sighed, staring down at the grounds again.

"Yes. Of course." He said quietly, barely heard over the small wind ebbing around them. Tim's head snapping around to stare at him.

"He was my son. Dick, Jason. You. You're my son." Bruce admitted, turning his eyes back to the teen, taking in Tim's parted lips and large eyes.

"Is that what this is about? Did the Joker tell you I don't love you?" Bruce asked and instantly the kid's eyes glistened, jaw tensed. Tim jerked his head towards the grounds, which only let the lights from outside dance across his wet orbs, reflecting in the waters pooling there.

"Tim." Bruce whispered, unsure what to say or do. Should he just say it? That he loved the kid? Loved his adopted son and student? Could he say it? Could he bring himself to utter those words. The words he hasn't said since his parents had died? He clenched his fists and closed his eyes, trying to will himself to just say them. To fix this, but he couldn't, his shoulder's slumped, he couldn't say it. He looked up and watched the lone tear slide down the kid's cheek, which Tim quickly wiped away, and he couldn't just do nothing.

"Come here." Bruce whispered with a frown, awkwardly holding his arms out. Tim's brows furrowed and he turned his head slowly, eyes widening at the sight before him. The offer.

"What?" Tim breathed in disbelief, unsure he wasn't hallucinating, that all of this wasn't just some stupid nightmarish dream.

"Come here." Bruce stated again, gesturing towards himself with a twitched of his fingers and Tim let out a bark of laughter.

"I'm dreaming." Tim muttered to himself with a quiet laugh, turning his attention back to the grounds. Bruce sat there for a few seconds, unsure what to do from here. If he should just let it drop or should try again? Try harder? His arm's fell a little and he was just about to awkwardly let them go when the kid shook his head in doubt. Tim shifted, pulling his feet beneath him, and suddenly he covered the small distance between them, wrapping his arms around Bruce's chest. The billionaire stiffened for a few seconds at the contact, slowly letting his arms enclose around the boy. Tim's hands balled into his gray shirt tightly, his face buried in the playboy's shoulder. Tim pulled his legs closer, letting himself fall into Bruce's lap, curling around the man's warmth. Letting the tears slid down his face and soak into the man's shirt, just letting go. Eventually Bruce's chin came to rest on top of the teen's head and Tim laughed a little, because he felt safe. Safer than he ever had in his life.

"Is it weird..." Tim started then broke off for a second, shifting his head, resting his forehead against Bruce's collar bone, freeing his chin and mouth.

"That I care more about your approval, then my own father's, even before he died?" Tim whispered quietly, and Bruce's arms tightened around him, the chest beneath him rising farther than usual, until his mentor let go in a long exhale. The breath tickling the hair's on top of his head.

"I don't know." Bruce eventually stated, entirely unsure. It would have been fine with Dick or Jason. Their father's had been long dead, they needed a father. Bruce was their father figure, in every way he could, but Tim. Tim had a father while under his wing. Maybe the man's paralysis had something to do with it. Or maybe it was the man's devotion to his work before the poisoning? He had heard in passing that the man payed attention to his son though, enjoyed spending time with him.

"Is it weird. I would cry more if you died?" Tim asked still not moving from his position. His hands still digging into his shirt, his breath still ghosting across Bruce's chest.

"No." Bruce finally decided, absently watching the snow drift down below, the winds picking up, their chill brushing across them in an icy embrace and Tim moved in closer, his legs pressing against Bruce's side.

"Is what we do out there. The way we fight crime. Is that right?" Tim asked finally moving his head from the man's chest. Peering up at his mentor's uncertain eyes. Bruce sighed and ran a placed a palm on the boy's forehead, running it up and through his hair, flattening it away from the teen's skin. The billionaire leaned forward, placing a firm kiss against the teen's head, lingering for a second, then he pulled away, letting his arms fall away from the boy.

"You need to find Alfred, and get to the Cave." Bruce stated with authority. Tim bowed his head as disappointment and thrill warred inside of him, watching the man's chest rise and fall with each breath. Bruce stated shifting beneath him, and the teen shook his head.

"You didn't answer the question." Tim whispered stalling the man, his eyes moving up to stare into Bruce's own again.

"It is. We stop crime." Bruce insisted almost childishly and Tim raised an eyebrow.

"With crime." The teen tacked on, watching his mentor's lips thin out in irritation. The man took another deep breath shifting his legs a little, Tim shifting with them, his butt meeting cold stone and he was suddenly painfully aware he was sitting awkwardly in his mentor and adoptive father's lap like a small child that he wasn't anymore.

"It's one way. There are other ways. Harvey was another way." Bruce whispered, staring down at the teen who held a dawning look of understanding.

"Dent?" Tim asked, shifting a little away from the larger male. Bruce nodded at the kid's question and the teen mimicked the action.

"What would you have done? If the Joker hadn't of stopped you? Him?" Tim asked and Bruce suddenly looked away, his brows furrowing.

"I don't know. Retire?" The billionaire joked turning back with a little smile on his face and Tim rolled his eyes.

"Yeah right." The kid stated with a smile of his own, slamming a fist into the man's muscled arm.

"That would be the apocalypse." Tim added on with a laugh, and the larger male shrugged smugly. Then Bruce tapped the teen on his side, jerking his head towards the kid's room.

"Get a move on. And next time." The male leaned forward, towering over the teen in his lap.

"Listen to me." Bruce demanded, his eyes narrowed good-naturedly.

"Aye aye, captain." Tim smirked, hopping of the window ledge and out of his lap with a half-assed salute. The kid came to full upright position and stood there, shifting awkwardly for a few seconds once silence fell over them, both unsure what to say. Bruce cleared his throat, both avoiding eye contact. Finally the teen took a deep breath and turned around, walking away, he got a few steps before pausing and turning back around, a worried look on his face.

"Be careful with him." Tim insisted and the billionaire smirked with a scoffed amused.

"Why? Is he dangerous?" Bruce asked sarcastically, raising one eyebrow.

"I was going to say manipulative, but I guess that sums it up." The teen shrugged offhandedly turning back around as the billionaire nodded his head in agreement.

"Just get out of the mansion, so I can stop worrying about you." Bruce called back to him and the teen nonchalantly waved a hand back at him, everything back to normal.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Bruce stayed at the window for a few more minutes, staring at nothing in particular, until the wind picked up speed, sending icy blasts into the mansion, soaking into the expensive carpet. The billionaire shivered as he reached out to pull the window closed, it swung inward and he hopped down at the last second, just before the glass forced him off the ledge. The playboy scowled as he landed on the wet carpet, soaking into his feet as he walked off the damp patch and onto the dry floor. Only realizing, now that he wasn't being pelted by snow flakes, that his clothes were just as damp. He wanted to head up to his bedroom and take a quick hot shower, check on his healing wounds, but checking in on the Joker sounded like a better plan, even if it was just making sure the door was firmly locked.

Bruce made his way down the hall and past Tim's empty bedroom, several items missing from its vicinity, little things, like his jacket or music device, laptop. The billionaire smiled a little as he turned the corner towards the elevator, appreciative that the kid had left so quickly. The ride down in the elevator was quiet, Bruce lost in his thoughts, running through the discussions he had with both Fox and Tim. The quiet walk to the makeshift hospital room was quick, which was made even shorter due to the ajar door. Bruce's heart fell into his stomach as he took in the open room and he dashed down the remaining hallway, shoving the door open completely, letting it slam against the wall.

The bed was empty, the sheets thrown to one side. He instantly noticed the new half empty bag of blood he hadn't given the Joker, hanging innocently on the drip line, and the clear liquid packet beside it. The billionaire stalked forward turning the empty bag around to take in the label. Modafinil. Bruce violently tore the packet from the line, throwing it to the ground in anger. The cabinets by the sink were thrown open, a few broken bottles shattered on the ground, two syringes lay used on the tool tray next to him, two bottles near them. Bruce snatched one of the bottles up, twisting it around to read the label. Foradil. He scowled and snatched up the other one. Rocephin. So the Joker had taken something to keep him awake and then treated any side effects from it, something to keep his lungs functioning and to fight infections. The bastard even knew drugs. Bruce tiredly threw the bottles back onto the table stalking out of the room he glanced down at the little pile of surgical tools he had left on the ground, immediately noticing the scalpel was missing. Scowling he jogged down the hall, pulling out his phone as he went dialing Tim's cellphone. The kid answered on the fifth ring, almost giving Bruce a heart attack with the unnecessary delay.

"Tim, where are you?" The billionaire immediately asked, just reaching the elevator.

"Almost to the Cave. Yes Alfred is with me. What's up?" The teen asked curiously, and Bruce let out a sigh, pressing the button to call the compartment.

"The Joker's lose." Bruce stated, and Tim swore colorfully on the other side of the phone. Alfred immediately admonished him.

"I'm sorry Bruce. I was. Distracted. I didn't... lock the door." The kid sighed guiltily and Bruce shook his head, despite the teen not being able to see it.

"It's okay. There's no one here for him to hurt. He'd have to go pretty far with his injuries to do any harm to anyone."

"He could do you harm." Tim countered with a quiet stern voice.

"He could try." Bruce snapped back as the elevator door dinged open, he shut down the call before the kid could reply, stepping into the small room he paused, staring at the lit up numbers on the wall. The Joker could be anywhere in the house. The mansion. If he were the Joker, and had just gotten up, where would he go? What would he do? Eat? Maybe. But that madman didn't seem like the type to care about food. He was thin as a stick and Bruce wasn't sure that was simply because of Arkham.

What if... the billionaire pressed a button, waiting patiently for the elevator to ascend several floors. The ding echoed through the hallway as the doors slid open and Bruce glanced wearily out of the box, checking the hall for any signs of crazy. When nothing met him he stepped out, turning in the familiar direction, he crept down the carpet as silently as he could. Stopping just outside of his bedroom, the door slightly ajar, just as he had left it. He reached out placing his fingertips against the wood and gently eased the door open, taking in every shadowy corner the madman could hide in. There was nothing out of the ordinary in the room, it was entirely possible the maniac hadn't been here, except that his bathroom light was on. He kept the door closed, but he never left the lights on. Bruce slowly, silently, crept across the room stopping outside of the bathroom. Making sure to avoid casting any shadows under the door as he pressed himself against the wall. He could hear the water running inside, and a merry little hum echoing off the walls, the rest of the sounds drowned out by the rushing water.

Bruce pressed himself against the wall, slowly reaching over he grabbed the handle, twisting it as silently as he could. The door slowly eased open the small click inaudible over the noise. Bruce suddenly threw the door open, barely tilting his head around the corner to see inside. A startled yelp instantly pierced the air, as the door bounced against the wall, and the Joker jumped back, one hand landing on his chest, his other holding on to the counter for dear life. White toothpaste ran down his equally pale chin, and was slathered all over his hand which held a toothbrush, leaving smudges on the bathroom counter. The man's chest was bare, little droplets of water still clinging to his skin as it fell from his wet hair. The towel on his hips, the only thing keeping him decent, slipped precariously low with his sudden reaction. The madman exhaled a deep breath, letting his hand fall from his heart.

"Jesus Bats! You scared me half to death! Careful, you could kill a man like that!" The Joker giggled, winking at the billionaire with his long lashes. Bruce's shoulders tensed in irritation, his fists clenching, as he took in what the madman had been up to. Steam billowed out of the room, the shower door thrown wide, puddles of water spread across the tiled floor. The Joker's hair was plastered to his pale face and clean skin, little droplets of water slowly slipping down his body, across the smooth plains of his chest. The bullet wounds an angry red against that pale expanse, the man's rosy nipples the only natural color gracing his skin.

"You sure know how to live, doll face." The Joker muttered his green eyes flashing in excitement, turning back to the fogged up mirror, a large circle was wiped away in front of him. The madman stuck the toothbrush back into his mouth, brushing rather violently for a few seconds, before his eyes met Bruce's cold stare in the reflection. They gazed at each other for a full minute, the madman absently brushing ever so often, like he was waiting for the billionaire to say something. Then the Joker's eyes widened and his foam covered hand shot into the air as he bent down, spitting toothpaste into the sink he straightened up again, twirling the toothbrush in the air with a tight guilty smile.

"I uh, borrowed your toothbrush, hope you don't mind." The maniac informed the playboy a grin breaking out onto his scarred face. He pivoted suddenly, his eyes glued to the billionaire as he hopped onto the counter, sticking the toothbrush back into his mouth. A large glob of frothy spit and foamed paste falling onto his chest, narrowly missing one of the bullet wounds. Bruce's eyes narrowed dangerously, he would have to burn that toothbrush, and the towel, he thought as the madman crossed his legs, leaning back on one hand, his hair brushing the mirror.

"Oh, don't worry. I don't have like cooties or anything!" The maniac stated, gesturing with the toothbrush. The man paused for a second, looking thoughtful.

"I mean. I had the clap once! But I, uh, hear that's cured." The Joker said with wide eyes as he leaned forward a little, his face completely serious, sending Bruce a pointed look. Then he leaned back, mechanically stuck the toothbrush back into his mouth and started brushing his teeth vigorously, his eyes never leaving the playboy, his face devoid of emotion as he scrubbed. Bruce huffed out an irritated sigh, leaning against the door frame with crossed arms and a thin lipped scowl. The playboy shook his head in disbelief as the madman continued brushing his teeth, looking at Bruce like he was the weird one.

"Sometimes, I think god or something created you just to piss me off." Bruce muttered in annoyance. He'd have to clean this entire mess up by himself. Alfred wasn't coming near the mansion. It wasn't like the playboy was lazy or couldn't do it, he... okay he was lazy. Being a billionaire had perks. He spent his energy on more important things than cleaning his bathroom. Like cleaning up Gotham, and keeping his things clean to begin with. Could that towel get any lower? Bruce had never noticed the man's thin happy trail before, the blonde hairs standing out against his bruised torso. The Joker laughed, rocking back on the counter before leaning back forward, farther then before, placing green eyes where Bruce's blue ones had been looking.

"Up here sweetheart." The Joker giggled, tapping his cheek bone with one finger, a smirk gracing his lips, the billionaire's eyes glared into the madman's abnormally green ones. Then the maniac scoffed rolling eyes, straightening up quickly.

"And god didn't create me!" The Joker exclaimed, throwing his hands out a little, flicking white foam all over the mirror behind him.

"You did. So stop being a little baby and enjoy life a little!" The Joker laughed throwing his arms out, splattering the wall as well. Then he shoved the toothbrush back into his mouth with a laugh and a Cheshire grin, his eyes creased in merriment.

"Stop. Messing up. My bathroom. And no. I didn't create you. You were the Joker before I even knew you existed, let alone had taken Sionis' place." Bruce corrected him, a sour frown on his handsome features at the accusation of creating such a monstrosity. The Joker laughed a dry note to his tone and he pulled the toothbrush out of his mouth again, leveling the playboy with a disapproving stare.

"Shows what you remember." The Joker muttered with a dark chuckle, hopping off the counter he turned back to the mirror, sticking out his tongue he scrubbed it down with a childish awing sound getting saliva and foam all over his sink.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Bruce growled out in annoyance at the sound and the man's undertone. The maniac halted in mid brush dropping his hand.

"What does it. Sound! Like it means?" The Joker countered sending him a raised eyebrow in the mirror, stopping his scrubbing for only a moment, before returning to his work, this time without the awful sound. Bruce was about to send him a sarcastic reply when he stopped, unsure if that was the best course of action. If maybe, maybe, he could get something here, some snippet of the madman's past.

"Like I. Forgot. Something." Bruce muttered back, his eyes narrowed taking in every move the Joker made in response. The madman's eyes widened comically and he pulled the toothbrush out, and slowly he brought his hands together in a slow wet clap, a sardonic smile gracing his lips.

"Well! You are. Definitely. The world's greatest detective! Damn you are good! See this is why I keep you around." The Joker stated sarcastically, shoving his hands under the running water, rinsing them off. The towel around his waist slipping farther down, revealing the beginning curve of his butt cheeks, two little dimples resting just above the swells. Bruce's eyes snapped back up, when the Joker's eyes locked onto him. The madman held back a smirk, bending down a little, letting the towel slip farther as he filled a hand full of water. He sipped it, swishing it around a few times before spitting it back into the sink. He repeated the process a few more times, Bruce watching on in irritated silence as he tried to remember anything, any time he could have met the Joker before... before he was the Joker. Before he was this twisted creature, because he would have remembered someone as mad as this man. Said madman splashed his face with water, rinsing the foam down the sink. Then he straightened up, grabbing the towel at his waist he tore it off, wiping away the toothpaste that had fallen onto his chest, revealing way more then the billionaire wanted to see. Bruce averted his eyes as quickly as possible, but not before he caught sight of the blonde hairs connected to that happy trail. The Joker wiped his face and dropped the towel to the ground, rolling his eyes at the playboy's modesty. The madman ignored his indecency waltzing over to one of the cabinets. The maniac threw it open, scanning its contents quickly.

"Stay out of there." Bruce growled his eyes snapping back up to glare at the back of the madman's head, refusing to let his eyes trail farther down, despite how the light caught on his skin. He didn't ever. Ever. Want to be able to imagine the Joker naked in any way shape or form, or any of his enemies for that matter. It seemed fate had a different idea. It was just something a little too personal not to affect the way he viewed them. Clothing was a shroud, being naked is a vulnerability that only humans felt. He supposed the Joker wasn't human after all, but he sure as hell looked it.

"Oh ho ho! The good stuff!" The Joker exclaimed excitedly snatching a bottle out of the cabinet. The madman spun towards the billionaire who kept his eyes firmly on the male's face. His distaste evident from the set of his jaw and the line of his lips. The madman held the container up to his face, one finger pointing to the product, a look of curiosity on his features.

"You know... this is made from baby fetuses right?" The Joker asked skeptically, "I mean I'm all for a dead child or two, or six, but I wouldn't take you as the type!" Bruce's eyes narrowed in irritation and he stepped forward reaching out to snatch the container from the man's hand.

"They're cultured, it's all created in a lab." The billionaire snapped, swiping at the product but the Joker danced just out of his reach. A disbelieving look marring his face, his feet splashing in the puddles on the floor, his nipples hardening in the quickly chilling room, goosebumps breaking out across his skin as the billionaire stepped closer to him.

"Oh because lab babies are so much better! That makes. Perfect. Sense! It's okay! They're not real!"

"They aren't actually fetuses. Just put it. Back." Bruce growled his voice slipping into a feral depth and the Joker shivered unconsciously, the action entirely noticeable with his lack of clothing, almost slipping in a puddle. The man righted himself, raising a finger to his pursed lips, tapping them a few times in feigned contemplation as he stepped back, a little hum leaving his lips.

"No. No. I don't, I don't think I will." The madman stated with a minute shrug, sending Bruce an apologetic look taking a few more steps away from the larger male. Bruce took a menacing step forward, not willing to play games today. That cream was the only reason his didn't have any scars. The rest of his body wouldn't as well if he could bring himself to care about it, but he wasn't going to get harassed over the damn thing. The Joker unscrewed the lid and the billionaire scowled, stalking across the large bathroom towards the madman. The maniac's eyes snapped up, looking a little scared, and he held one hand towards the advancing male.

"Whoa whoa whoa! Calm down there tiger! I have the same stuff at home! Chill your boots toots! I'm just borrowing it! Look. I'll pay you back. Theeee, next time I rob a bank?! Huh?! It's not hard, won't take long at all!" The Joker suggested stepping back to keep up with the playboy's advance.

"No. You wont." Bruce stated the Joker's back finally hitting the cold wall. The playboy tore the container out of the madman's hand with a scowl. Then it dawned on him, the full meaning of the Joker's words, and the billionaire couldn't stop himself from looking down. Taking in the madman's pale skin, the bruises and raw scratches... but that was it. The man barely had a blemish, a few thin fading scars could be barely made out.

One near his collarbone, where the madman had been hit with shrapnel from his own bomb at a heist Batman had crashed. It was the vigilante's fault the bomb had gone off when it had, even though it had been the Joker's plan all along, blow them both up or something ridiculous, he still wasn't able to stop it in time. A thin one on his arm, covered by new scratches, from falling on a downed henchman's knife during one of their many tussles. The billionaire remembered the blood, the Joker simply standing back up again, growing faint by the second.

Bruce's free hand reached out, tracing along the healed skin, the slice had been to the bone. Ending their little fight almost immediately, the madman collapsing from blood loss surprisingly quick. Harley had crashed in to take him away, preventing Batman from taking the man in. Bruce's eyes snapped down without really thinking, taking in the barely raised skin, the nasty scar they should have shared, but didn't. The Joker's was faded and pale, nearly matching his skin, while Bruce's stood out rather painfully when he undressed. The circular puncture wound lay just beside the maniac's hip bone, near the dusty blonde hairs below, Bruce refusing to recognize anything that lay beyond them. The billionaire's eyes snapped up, his steely blue meeting wide pools of acidic green. The Joker watched him in silence, his lips parted, blanketed with scars. Bruce opened his mouth, unsure of what to say, but he felt he had to say something. The surprise that the Joker actually cared about scars shocked him.

All that came out however was a loud groan of pain as the Joker's knee slammed straight into his balls, pain immediately webbed into his stomach and he curled in on himself as it stabbed through his insides. The madman quickly slipped past him, the heat of his body rushing away as the maniac dashed from the room, snatching the container from Bruce's uncaring hand as he went.

"Fuck." Bruce hissed, leaning against the counter as he tried to breath past the pain. There was a reason he wore a cup. Extra cushioned cup. He slammed a fist into the counter, willing the new pain to drown out the other. Finally he could take in oxygen and Bruce winced straightening up a little. A vicious scowl cut across his features, and he stiffly took a step towards the door wincing in pain. He eventually stalked out of the bathroom ignoring the cold puddles of water he stepped through on the way. He exited into the bedroom, his muscles tense, anger riding the pain coursing through his body. The Joker sat innocently on the bed, near his blood stain. Sitting cross legged, standing out starkly against the darker theme of the playboy's bedroom. The lid of the container lay across the room, as if the man had tossed it carelessly away from him, before he started using the cream. Bruce growled darkly, swiftly closing the space between them, the madman didn't even bother to look up at his approach, simply continued to smear the cream over his scratches. The billionaire gritted his teeth and raised a fist, ready to slam the man's face into the floor, returning the favor, pain for pain. He reached the edge of the bed, his fist swinging down and then he froze. A cold digging met his throat.

"Ah ah ah. I tend to get what I want. And I'd prefer not to kill you over something as trivial as a four thousand dollar bottle of cream! Think of the dead children." The Joker giggled pressing the scalpel into Bruce's skin, breaking the surface, a thin trail of blood slipping down his neck and into his shirt. The billionaire gritted his teeth, he'd forgotten about that, where the man stashed it was beyond him. They stared at each other for a few seconds then Bruce's hand snapped up, easily disarming the madman he turned the tables, placing the scalpel against the Joker's neck instead. The madman let out an excited squeal of joy, throwing his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

"I keep forgetting you're not just a pretty face." The Joker muttered, eyeing the playboy lewdly.

"Lucky for Gotham, I'm not." Bruce replied, he wanted to press the scalpel closer as the madman had, but he wasn't sure if the maniac wouldn't press harder against it just to see Bruce's terrified face. Suddenly the phone in his pocket rang, and the billionaire removed the small blade from the Joker's skin, pulling out his phone with the other hand. He leveled the madman with a stern look, silently reminding him to stay put.

"Hello?" Bruce answered, keeping his eyes on the now humming male. The Joker took the opportunity to smear some more cream onto his skin, gently covering the cuts he had received some point the night before.

"Bruce. I think you need to check out the news. Gotham's in a panic. I guess they couldn't keep this quiet forever." Barbara's voice came over the phone and Bruce's eyes glanced towards the Television. He gave the madman one last glance before he made his way to the coffee table, snatching the remote up he switched on the television. Doctor Mengele was on the screen informing Gotham of the breakouts that had occurred last night due to Bruce Wayne's interference. She recounted his purchase of the asylum from under the current owner's noses, his break in and destruction of their security systems. They didn't have any footage of him on the scene though, which was only slightly helpful. He could easily play this off as one of the fake Wayne's running around Gotham, but it would be difficult to spin how the fake Bruce got a hold of his accounts. Something warm and wet ran across his neck and Bruce's head snapped around in fear, worried he'd find the madman licking his blood, just realizing the Joker had moved closer to him. The maniac was on his knees on the mattress, his face close to Bruce's. The man ran one cream slicked finger over the new cut in his skin, and the playboy held back a sigh of relief as the madman met his eyes, giving him a reassuring wink. Bruce's eyes narrowed, as the maniac dipped a finger back in, running them along his cheek again, covering the nail marks with the solution.

"Bruce?" Barbara asked quietly over the phone, catching the billionaire's attention.

"This isn't as bad as it seems." Bruce stated, tearing his eyes back to the screen, ignoring the maniac beside him in favor of the television. Not wanting the scalpel anywhere near the madman he tossed it across the room, letting it land onto the dresser, it slid across almost falling behind the furniture.

"Maybe but, I also have some news on the clones or whatever they are." Barbara informed him as the madman delicately covered another scratch on his cheek.

"They're not clones." Bruce replied, swatting halfheartedly at the male's fingers, when the maniac got a little too close to his lips. The madman huffed and the bed shifted, the Joker going back to treating his own wounds. Which reminded Bruce, he needed to wrap the man's bullet wounds back up, it was obvious the madman didn't care much about them.

"Well you're right about that one. They did have surgical marks across their bodies, some major cosmetic surgery, and I mean major. But that's not where it stops. They've been genetically altered."

"What do you mean?" Bruce asked, his eyes slipping from the television to watch the Joker hum a little tune while he covered his body in the cream, gently covering each and every scratch.

"I was able to pull up their previous identities, but their previous DNA. Doesn't match the samples that were taken from their bodies." Barbara said, as the playboy's eyes narrowed at the madman.

"Is genetic altering even. Possible?" Bruce asked distractedly his voice dropping into a darker tone, his hand shooting out, stopping the The Joker from smothering his still raw and bloody bullet wound with the stuff. Green eyes shot up glaring angrily at the billionaire who stared back unblinking, his grip tightening on the man's wrist in warning, before he tossing it away from the male's wound with a stern look. The madman scowled down at the bullet hole before gazing up at the billionaire, pouting with discontent.

"No." Bruce growled out with finality and the maniac rolled his eyes in exasperation, reluctantly moving on to the smaller cuts with a grumbled annoyance.

"What?" Barbara asked startled, taken back at the man's suddenly stern tone.

"Not you." The playboy corrected, turning his gaze back to the television, yet still keeping an eye on the man beside him.

"Ooookay..." Barbara muttered, obviously still confused. There was a scuffling sound and the poorly oiled computer chair in the Bat Cave squeaked.

"Is he with the Joker?" Tim's voice asked suddenly and Barbara blanched.

"Wha-What?!" Bruce winced as the sound was directed into his ear drum.

"It's a long story. For later. Is genetic altering possible?" Bruce insisted they move on, and it took the girl a few seconds to compose herself.

"Um, I... Not that, I know of. The last known research into the subject was during World War II, the Nazi's lead scientist and doctor was studying the subject. Along with many other morbid things." Barbara informed him and Bruce bit back a groan, closing his eyes, why hadn't he seen it. It was rather blatantly staring him in the face.

"Let me guess. The doctor's last name was Mengele?" The playboy replied, running a hand through his hair, noticing the Joker's unblinking eyes on him. He dropped his hand back down, unwilling to show the madman any more of his more human side. To The Joker he was Batman, nothing more, nothing less. The maniac's eyes narrowed for a second, and Bruce pretended not to notice the staring.

"Yeah. It was. Which is also – ." The madman's hand slowly crept nonchalantly towards the bullet wounds.

"The name of the. Asylum. Doctor." Bruce finished for her, trailing off with irritation as he snatched the Joker's hand away from his bullet wound yet again. The madman glared up at him and Bruce glared right back.

"Yeah, it's weird though, I did some research the guy never had any kids. He was too obsessed with his work to get a family." Finally the madman gave an angry huff ripping his hand away from Bruce's he immediately tried again, the billionaire easily snatching the hand back away.

"That is strange, maybe a lover? Extended. Family?" Bruce grunted distractedly, battling the Joker's stubbornness with his free hand, surprised at the strength the male still had, swatting and tugging the maniac's hands away from the wounds. Finally the madman gave up, weakly swatting at the playboy's hands with a huff of resignation. He instead turned his attention elsewhere, trying to reach the cuts on his back, which the maniac didn't have any problem achieving. His pale arms easily wrapping around his body to cover the scratches. His head turned back, the green hair blocking his eyes.

"Are you okay?" Barbara asked with concern.

"I'm fine." Bruce stated, if the maniac tried one more time he would just knock the man out. He didn't feel like games today, or any day for that matter.

"Anyways, I also checked that out, there are no records of a lover, not that it isn't possible, but the entire family line was hunted down after the war. Mengele didn't just do experiments on Jews, he used Germans as well. The country didn't take too kindly when that fact became public."

"I wouldn't doubt it." Bruce muttered, narrowing his eyes as the Joker's kept flicking to him, despite needing to see his backside.

"I'll do some more research, see what – ."

"That's enough." The billionaire growled out cutting Barbara off, snatching the container away from the Joker's hand when the man succeeded in getting a bit of the cream on his bullet wound.

"What?" Barbara stuttered.

"Oh what?! It's not like you can't afford it, big boy!" The Joker exclaimed with an exasperated huff, running a hand through his still drying hair to get it out of his face, slicking it back.

"Oh my god! Is that really the Joker?!" Barbara gasped through the phone and the playboy gritted his teeth.

"That's not the point and you know it." Bruce replied deeply, easily taking on the Batman tone with the male.

"How is the Joker not the point?"

"Oh come on! Like it really matters! I'm not going to die from this you man child!" The Joker jumped up throwing his arms into the air in exasperation, he slowly backed away from Bruce.

"You're wounds need proper treatment, antibiotics. Not facial cream." Bruce insisted sternly, and the Joker laughed a little turning his back to the man he took a few more steps towards the edge of the room, near the window. Coming up next to a little side table, he walked past it a bit, staring out of the glass for a few seconds.

"Whoops." The Joker gasped, before slapping a hand into the expensive lamp, watching it fly off the side table and shatter loudly onto the floor.

"Joker." Bruce growled dangerously and the madman looked up at him with innocent eyes.

"Oh my god. It really is the Joker. Bruce. What are you doing? He's dangerous! You're not Batman!" Barbara insisted from over the phone, fear and concern in her voice, but mostly fear. Fear of the man that had placed her in the wheelchair.

"Sorry! Must have slipped." The madman suggested, pivoting suddenly with a whistled tune, he waltzed towards the other side of the window, nearing the other matching lamp.

"Alright stop!" Bruce shouted before the man could break the second one. He didn't want to find two of them, they were expensive enough as a singular purchase.

"Look, you can put this shit on." The playboy held up the cream, "After. The antibiotic. And for fuck sake put some clothes on." Bruce snapped with an angry scowl. Silence reigned on the other side of the phone as the billionaire's eyes narrowed. The Joker ran one finger up the side of the lamp, catching on the rimmed surfaces he let it tip a little with pursed lips. Then he let it go, Bruce held his breath as it fell back onto the table, apparently the madman had made up his mind. Robin's voice broke over the phone, asking Barbara what happened, but the girl remained silent.

"Fine." The Joker conceded scratching his arm and glancing down at his nakedness, taking in his equally pale manhood dusted with blonde hairs. Bruce's eyes followed the line of sight, then he quickly turned towards the television, trying to get the man's full form out of his head. The maniac needed to eat more. He could see all of his ribs. Maybe Bruce would shove food violently down his throat. Helping the man. Wasn't that something the Joker hated? Sounded like a good torture. It took Bruce a second to realize he was still on the phone.

"Hold on Barbara." The billionaire stated, moving over to a set of drawers he opened the top one, pulling out a wireless earpiece. The Joker meanwhile had walked back around the bed, his hands behind his back. Inspecting the rather large blood stain he had left on Bruce's mattress. The playboy switched the piece on and tuned the phone to their encrypted wireless signal. He put the phone back into his pocket.

"Can you hear me?" Bruce asked Barbara just as the Joker reached his side of the bed, wandering over to him.

"Um, yeah?" Barbara muttered quietly, Tim still pleading for an update.

"Good." The playboy stated just as the Joker placed the tips of his fingers on the edge of his shoulder.

"You have anything else for me?" The madman's hand trailed across his back.

"Anything on the Joker?" The fingers drummed onto his other shoulder when his name was spoken, then the hand slid off and Bruce ignored it.

"Has my wannabes done anything new? Strange? Anything of note?" Bruce asked shifting his weight, his eyes sliding onto the Joker, who huffed in boredom falling back onto the bed. The playboy averted his eyes again, ignoring how a certain part bounced more than the rest.

"Not really. I hear from the police chat that they mutter a lot, apparently they're not all there. And I thought you had the Joker wi– ."

"I do. But there should be more of them. If Hush wants Gotham he needs to control both ends. He has a partner in this. It could be the doctor, but then they'd have to find some way to control their Joker themselves. I'm guessing they made quite a few of them. Maybe they're waiting around to see which one is left standing. Or maybe they had a better success with one, over the others. It could be a roulette, one is their main man." Bruce proposed and the Joker sighed exaggeratedly, slamming his head back against the bed over and over again, obviously getting bored.

"Even so... What if the real Joker was the one left standing?" Barbara asked thoughtfully, finally getting them somewhere.

"I don't think they'd risk that." Bruce stated slowly, knowing where she was going with that train of thought.

"You think they have them bugged? If they have tracking devices I might be able to pin them down. If I had lunatics running around that's what I'd do." Barbara suggested, and Bruce nodded his head in agreement.

"Yeah, see if you can find anything. I'll do some digging as well. If I have time..." The playboy trailed off glancing over at the maniac who was swishing his legs back and forth over the edge of the bed, and his train of thought died instantly. What if... They tagged the Joker as well? Bruce's eyes narrowed in on the man.

"Call me if anything comes up." Bruce muttered halfheartedly shutting the call down with a touch to his ear. It took the madman a second to notice the playboy's calculating gaze on him. Slowly the man's legs stopped their merry twitching, and the madman narrowed his eyes back at the billionaire. There was an awkward silence between them for a full minute.

"What..." The Joker asked slowly, raising a skeptical eyebrow, one had itching at one of his many cuts. Bruce didn't answer, wondering the best way to approach this subject. He didn't have the equipment to scan the man for a tracking device here. All of that was located in the Batcave and the madman wasn't going anywhere near that place. So the next best thing... The Joker sat up, cocking his head to the side.

"Seriously. What?! I didn't do it! Whatever it was you're giving me that look for. It wasn't me! Pinky swear!" The Joker insisted throwing his arms out in another surrendering gesture. Bruce cleared his throat, guess it was a good thing the man wasn't shy.

"I need to search you." Bruce stated evenly and the Joker's eyebrows raised, asking the billionaire if he were serious right now.

"What you think I hid a knife in my ass? You can check if you want." The Joker offered wagging his eyebrows while leaning back on his hands.

"Not unless you were anally probed at Arkham."

"Well it is standard procedure." The madman sang, with a little giggle at the end.

"While knocked out."

"Not! Standard procedure." The Joker punctuated with a fist through the air.

"Well, uh, let's see. Not, that. I. Recall. Get it. That I recall." The madman laughed, wincing a little as the pain meds he had been given that morning continued to wear off. He pressed a hand against his new bullet wound and it came away with some blood.

"Stand up." Bruce ordered and the madman blanched a little, followed by a small shocked pause.

"Wait are you serious?! Isn't this a little fast? I do prefer dinner and a movie first. Preferably a. Horror movie. I like when the people die. Horrible. Deaths! Gets my brain churning out new ideas, ya know?" The Joker rambled, his eyes widening as the playboy stepped closer to him.

"Up." Bruce ordered again, slipping into the deeper demanding growl.

"Alright alright! Jeez. Give a man some time to prepare. At least start with some foreplay." The Joker insisted as he moved off the bed to stand almost awkwardly in front of the billionaire.

"Hopefully it won't come to that." Bruce stated, reaching forward he picked up the madman's arm, starting at the wrist. He slowly scanned for any signs of a surgical cut, running his fingers down the man's surprisingly soft skin, looking for any abnormal bumps.

"Oh... Oh! You think they... I guess they could have." The Joker muttered quietly as Bruce inspected his arm delicately, gently. His fingers trailing softly across his abused skin. Bruce worked his way up the man's arm in silence, noticing the way his hidden muscles slid under the skin. How his bone structure and muscle mass wasn't quite as scrawny as he first appeared.

"Tell me what happened last night." The playboy demanded as he reached the man's shoulder, he hadn't realized the man actually had birthmarks on his body, they were so minutely discolored they were almost impossible to see. Dotting his skin every once in awhile with their presence.

"Uh, what?" The Joker exhaled, a little distracted. Bruce shifted his feet, moving in closer to him.

"How did you get these? I need to know what you were injured by." The billionaire insisted resisting the urge to run his hand along the man's distinctive collar bone. It was surprising, he expected to see skinny bones and underdeveloped muscles, sure the man could use some food, but he was a lot more sturdy looking then Bruce would have expected. Less petite, less scrawny. He was more athletic, with lithe muscles and strong frame. The billionaire bet with a proper diet the man could end up throwing some really mean punches. Could fill out a little more, he'd never be as bulky as Bruce wouldn't though.

"Oh right. Well let's see. Nails, teeth, boots, branches, rocks, bullets, a knife or two, batons, Bats, you know the usual." The Joker smirked as Bruce reached his bruised abdomen, quickly testing anything that looked suspiciously like a knife wound. He doubted they would place it somewhere the madman would notice however. The maniac's abs flexed under his touch, the muscles sliding under his hand as if the male was unsure if he should tense or relax. The playboy adamantly refused to look farther down, instead placing both hands on the man's shoulders and flipping the Joker around.

The madman was quite as Bruce inspected every cut on his back, the billionaire's slightly calloused hands sliding across his skin gently. Something he wasn't used to. Gentle wasn't in his repertoire, in his life. Bruce watched the man's muscles tense under his scrutiny, sometimes sliding with a hidden power under his hand. No wonder the man held quite a punch. He wasn't as sinewy as one would expect.

The man's spine was noticeable, but not in an unhealthy way, it didn't stick out. It simply rested just under the skin, making itself known in little bumps down his back. Bruce absentmindedly ran a hand down each bump and the Joker shivered beneath his touch. A breathy exhale leaving his lips, audible in the silence of the room, and there it was. Bruce snapped out of his musings as his hand moved over, running across a rather deep cut. For such a short scratch. The playboy dropped to his knees ignoring the dimples just above the man's ass, the way it swelled smoothly, creased perfectly. He avoided looking down farther at all, instead he focused on the cut, pressing his fingers into the man's flesh with a little more pressure.

"Shit." The Joker whispered dangerously, taking in a shaky breath as something shifted under his skin, under Bruce's fingers. "Get it out. Get it out!"

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Whew. I was going to finish the my idea for the rest of the "day" in Bat World. But then I was like damn. 27 pages... Maybe I should like. Make it a cliffhanger or something. Buwahahaha. Then I scrolled back up and was like... hmmm here works.

So he's a little naked. I didn't want to put TOO much emphasis on that fact, because how hot the Joker is isn't why Bats will end up with him, but it's definitely something the Joker would do. So Bruce didn't really pay attention much, so I wasn't going to either. Just remember he's super sexy. Growl. Again. Apologies for the whole Robin spiel. Maybe later when this is finished, and after my Treasure Planet fanfiction. (maybe) I'll write one with Robin. Again no promises.