AN: Sorry for the delay in updating. Real life can be a bitch sometimes! Oh! And mild references to child abuse and murder/suicide in this chapter. Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: Not mine!

The Joker looked over the man covered in bandages laying on the bed. His poor Batsy! And the night had started out so well too.

Alfred had led them to a small dinning room for a romantic dinner for two. Not that Brucey had been aware of it of course- he was so adorable when he was deliberately being obtuse! As they were served, the Joker had tried to start-up conversation.

"So Batsy, what's new?" Whatever his Bat might have replied was cut off by an urgent beeping- the Bat signal. His Batsy gave him a torn look, at his nod the man took off for his cave. When Alfred came in to clear away the untouched plates, he placed a comforting hand on the clowns' shoulder.

"Don't worry sir, you'll get him. We just need to get him out of shell." Giving a small smile to the butler, the Joker turned his attention back to his own plate of steak and potatoes- if only he could get the man to stay still and talk!

It was several hours later when the Batmobile made its way back to the cave to be met by two very worried people. It had been Killer Crock out tonight, and he hadn't pulled any punches.

As the clown and butler worked side-by-side to save the battered mans' life- it had been too close this time, his heart had stopped twice!- all the Joker could think of was all the things he wanted to say. And how he might never get the chance to same them!

Once the unconscious man was stabilized, and moved to the small hospital room set up in a corner of the vast cave, Alfred had left his ward in the caring hands of his arch nemesis.

Now it was almost dawn and the Harlequin of Hate was forming a plan. He would need to wait and make sure his Batsy would be alright without him there though. He trusted Alfred Pennyworth fully, but this was his Bat! No-one could care for his Bat other than him!

As the days wore on and Bruce remained unconscious- though thankfully not comatose- the Joker started to gather the pieces he would need to complete his new goal. He would hand a list of what he needed to Alfred, and, if the items were not already somewhere in the cave, the butler would run out to purchase them.

Alfred had a vague idea of what the Joker was up to, but he didn't want to pry- the clown had hovered over and cared for his Master more thoroughly than if he had been in a real hospital.

It had been a week now since Killer Crock had mauled his Batsy, and the man was finally out of the woods. Just after settling his still unconscious Bat in his own bed, the clown had announced that he was going out and that Alfred shouldn't wait up.

JOKERJOKERJOKERJOKERJOKERJOKER

Bruce awoke feeling warm and safe. As he drifted into full awareness he realized he was in his own bedroom. The heaviness of his chest and the IV at his side told him he had been injured- and severely if Alfred still had him on pain killers.

At a slight movement on his other side Bruce turned to see the Joker sleeping soundly curled up against him. The man was wearing one of his signature suits, but what pale skin was visibly was heavily bandaged.

Realizing his sense of peace was coming from the man next to him, Bruce closed his eyes. As sleep dragged him under once more he had one final thought: Who had dared to hurt his Joker?

Coming to once more- Bruce was slightly disappointed to note that he was alone- he attempted to sit up. As he struggled to rise Alfred came into the room.

"Sir, please lay still, we don't need you pulling your stitches out." Stopping his struggles, Bruce looked up at his butler.

He had so many questions. How long had he been unconscious? How extensive were his wounds? Had Killer Crock been caught yet?

But to his own surprise- but certainly not to Alfred's- the first thing he asked was none of those.

"How badly was the Joker hurt?" With a smile the butler began to answer as many of the questions that knew his Master wanted to ask, and in the process answered the one that had been asked.

"Please relax, your wounds were- and still are- significant. If the Joker hadn't been here to help- and if he hadn't been so adept at suturing- I may have lost you for good. Your heart stopped twice while we worked!" Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, the butler continued.

"You were unresponsive for a week, and have been fading in and out of consciousness for the last two. The Joker is fine, he went out and caught Killer Crock and some of the others. He is, at the moment, on your laptop. He has been doing an excellent job pretending to be you, and no-one has yet to think that Bruce Wayne is not the one giving orders."

At the stunned stare he received Alfred decided to not yet mention how high Wayne Corp stock had risen since the Joker had started making executive decisions. Or the fact that the villains he had 'caught' had been the ones to 'escape' him with what they thought was the Batman's help.

They had all given themselves up to the to police in order to receive protection, and were now quite happily passing time in Arkham. There had not yet been a single escape attempt.

Alfred did not know- and did not want to know- what the clown had done to create such a reaction, but he was quite happy with the results. His young Master would be safe for a time at least.

"I'll bring up a light lunch, shall I? I'm sure you are hungry after three weeks of sleep." Receiving a small nod, the butler left the man to his thoughts.

As the door closed behind his oldest friend, Bruce let himself drift off into thought. He had been unconscious three weeks and had almost died- it had to have been very serious for Alfred to show as much emotion as he had over the matter.

And the Joker had rounded up the other villains? Why would he do such a thing? Had he- it couldn't be. Had he been upset at Bruce being injured? That couldn't be it, could it?

And he was taking care of Bruce's day work? He didn't know anything about corporate law, how could he run a multi-national corporation? Nothing made any sense! What was he missing?

So caught up in his thoughts was he that he didn't notice his door opening, or hear the soft tread of feet making there way to his bedside. It wasn't until a tray was set down on his nightstand that he finally realized that he was no longer alone.

Looking up into bright green eyes, Bruce couldn't find his voice to ask the million and one questions he wanted to ask this confusing man.

The Joker clearly saw the confusion on the bed ridden man's face. Giving a small smile he helped the man to sit up with a few pillows behind his back- hopefully they would be able to get their talk over soon, he only had a week left before he was to take his promised leave.

"Alfred asked me to bring you lunch, he said that we should talk now." As the clown placed the tray across his lap, Bruce gave him a suspicious look.

"What do we have to talk about?" With a sigh, the Joker settled himself on the edge the bed next to his Batsy's knees.

"Why don't you just eat while I talk. Who knows? You may learn something." Too tired now to keep up his full defences, Bruce gave a nod and reached for his spoon.

The Joker smiled- he would finally get this off his chest- but where should he begin? Closing his eyes a moment to organize his thoughts, the green-eyed man began.

"I was born here in Gotham, Jack Napier was my name. My father was an abusive drunk and my mother a neglectful whore; he killed her infront of me when I was ten. I remember him turning to me with a sick grin and saying: 'Jacky my boy, if you weren't so pathetic I'd put you out of your misery!', just before he turned the gun on himself." Giving a small smile, he started picking at the threads of the blanket he was sitting on.

"I got passed around the system after that- ended up in some odd places, but never anywhere as bad as I had started. At sixteen I emancipated myself, and started college- I've always been a genius you see. At eighteen I married a lovely girl and thought I was set for life." Giving a chuckle he indicated that Bruce should start eating again.

"She got pregnant- it wasn't mine- and I learned just what type of money-grubbing person she was. I stood by her though, got myself embroiled with the mob for her; took that dive into that chemical bath for her. And when I turned to her for help, she laughed at me; I left her then. She died in child-birth, little Wendy was quickly adopted by a nice couple just outside of Gotham; she's thirteen this year." With a fond smile, the mad man showed Bruce a small picture of a lovely looking blonde girl.

"I would have raised her as my own with her mother, but after everything I decided she was better off this way." Putting the picture away, the Joker resumed telling his story to his enraptured Bats.

"They say that genius and madness are only separated by a hairs breath, so after I lost the last vestiges of my normal life I decided to try madness. And I must say that it's worked out so far. I started by going after the mob family that had helped destroy my life, and quickly worked my way up from there. I'm sure you know the rest from here." Taking a deep breath, the starkly white man steadied himself for what he was about to say.

"What you probably don't know is that I have been in love with you for years." He didn't look up at the choking noise coming from the other man, he just waited until silence reigned once more.

"At first I thought it was only infatuation- you are the only one who has ever been able to match wits with me- but I soon realized it was more than that. I have told you many times that we were made for each other- and I truly believe we are- but I don't honestly know how you feel on this matter." With another small smile, he brought his long soliloquy to a close.

"When crocodile breath mauled you- when I felt your heart stop for that second time- I decided that I had to just tell you point-blank at the first chance I received, and damn the consequences. I love you Batman, Bruce Wayne; whoever you want to be at the moment. If you don't feel the same then that's fine, but I won't keep chasing you without some encouragement." Picking up the half cleared tray- he didn't think the man would be able to eat any more- the Joker stood to take his leave.

"My month here is almost up Batsy, rest and think it over. Okay?" Without another word the clown left a very discomforted Bruce alone to his thoughts.

As the door closed, Bruce finally let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. The Joker was in love with him? He didn't believe it. It couldn't be true!

Closing his eyes in sudden exhaustion, Bruce let himself fall back into unconsciousness. He would deal with it tomorrow, he was just too tired for it right now.

With one last deep breath- and a wish that he wasn't alone in his big bed, though he wouldn't admit to that thought- Bruce drifted off to sleep.

AN.2: Hey, so I'm thinking one, possibly two chapters left in this story. Please let me know what your thoughts are and leave a review.