Disclaimer: All the characters used in this fic belong to DC Comics and are based on Chris Nolan's characters in the movies. I own absolutely nothing but the plot. Dedicated to Heath Ledger and based on his Joker.
Chapter 8: Without Rules
A/N: Flashbacks are needed
Song: Worlds Collide by Apocalyptica
Bruce was completely abhorred at what he had discovered the previous night. He sat on the leather sofa in the living room, staring blankly at the news station on television. He half expected the news anchor to announce that the Joker had left them another tape which would include Batman's identity. Much to his horror, the anchor actually did announce that the Joker had left another message for Gotham. The screen image on the screen then gave way to darkness and then to static before the message began to play.
"Gotham has three days left to live. Three. If you haven't shown your face to the city by then... everyone will pay for your cowardice. All of Gotham will suffer because of you. People will continue to die, so you might want to make a decision sometime soon. You can't hide forever because..." He paused, wicked eyes glinting. "I know the truth: There's no going back. You've changed everything... forever. And in the end, you're just a freak... like me!"
Damn him...
Perhaps he had changed things. But hadn't it all been for the better? Hadn't he brought peace, if only a little? Gotham no longer saw the mysterious vigilante as a hero. He had been cast out, used as a scapegoat, a tool. The citizens had been horridly fooled by a madman. The identity of Batman in exchange for peace? The Joker would never hold himself to such a bargain. He would surely continue to bring chaos to Gotham...
The screen went black again and the Joker's insane laughter filled the room, penetrating Bruce's thoughts. He grabbed the remote and turned the television off in hopes that the laughter would stop. But it didn't. It tormented his mind like a demon in his head.
Just shut up...
Then he saw it flash before his eyes, like a film. The night she was first put in danger by the Joker... The night he had almost lost Rachel...
6 - 7 - 6 - 7
A gunshot erupted throughout the room, startling the guests terribly. The Joker, followed by several thugs, walked through the crowd of terrified guests as if it were all a game.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," the Joker announced, walking out of the elevator. "We are tonight's entertainment! I only have one question: Where is Harvey Dent?" The crowd remained silent save for the slight whimpering of a few women clinging to their dates. The Joker wandered around the room, the guests shrinking away if he came too close. "You know where Harvey is? You know who he is?" He approached one man and grabbed him by the chin. "You know where I can find Harvey? I need to talk to him about something. Just something, a little. You know, I'll settle for his loved ones," he cackled, watching the crowd's reaction with a smirk.
"We won't be intimidated by thugs!" an elderly gentleman snapped, catching the Joker's glare. It seemed that the gentleman only thought better of his words when the Joker grabbed him by the collar.
"You know, you remind me of my father..." He pulled a switchblade from his coat pocket and held it near the man's mouth threateningly. "I hated my father!" he barked, yanking on the man's coat.
A hesitant voice finally made itself known. "Okay, stop!"
The madman turned and saw Rachel Dawes standing on the other side of the room, her hands balled into tight fists at her sides. He pushed the man towards his thugs, and approached Rachel, messing with his greasy hair. "Well, hello, beautiful. You must be Harvey's squeeze. Hmm? And you are beautiful."
She rolled her eyes, clearly bothered by his comment.
He circled her like a predator, waiting for her to dart away to Harvey. "You look nervous. Is it the scars? You wanna know how I got 'em?" The Joker pulled her closer as she tried to back away, taking her face in his gloved hand, pressing the knife against her cheek. "Come here."
Rachel struggled to turn her face from him, but his grip on her tightened.
"C'mere. Look at me. So, I had a wife... she was beautiful... like you, who tells me I worry too much, who tells me I oughta smile more, who gambles and gets in deep with the sharks... Hey. One day, they carve her face. And we have no money for the surgeries. She can't take it. I just want to see her smile again. Hmm? I want her to know that I don't care about the scars. So, I stick a razor in my mouth and do this..." He traced the scars with the tip of the knife. "... to myself. And you know what? She can't stand the sight of me! She leaves. Now I see the funny side. Now, I'm always smiling!"
Rachel took advantage of the moment and kneed him in the groin, backing away swiftly. She wouldn't let him touch her again.
He doubled over with laughter, finding pleasure in her horrified face. "A little fight in you. I like that."
"Then you're gonna love me," a gruff voice said, charging at the Joker. A fight swiftly ensued. the Joker and a couple of the thugs tried getting their hands on Batman, but failed. The Joker proceeded to grab Rachel by the arm and dragged her to a window, holding a gun to her head.
"Drop the gun," Batman ordered.
The Joker grinned. "Oh, sure. You just take off your little mask, and show us all who you really are! Hmm?" He pointed the gun behind himself and shot through the glass of the window, pushing Rachel onto the roof and holding onto her wrist.
"Let her go," Batman demanded, carefully approaching the Joker.
The Joker hesitated. "Very poor choice of words," he cackled, releasing Rachel's arm.
The Dark Knight dove out the window after her, grabbing the shrieking woman's hand and pulling her close, bracing for impact. The two of them landed on the hood of a car that was parked by the curb.
Rachel gasped, clinging to his cape. "Let's not do that again."
6 - 7 - 6 - 7
Harley awoke in a nauseated daze, wrapped snugly in a warm quilt. Her eyes opened slowly, still lazy from sleep as she pushed herself to her knees. Where was she? And what had happened? Blue eyes nearly popped out of her head as she took in her surroundings. She didn't have any memory of being brought upstairs from the van. Harley bolted upright, having felt that she was being watched by those manic eyes. The eyes she had found herself dreaming about. She sighed with relief when she heard him shouting at the thugs down the hall.
"I don't want excuses, you idiot! I want results! Now move!"
Gunshots and screams filled Harley's ears as the door opened and the Joker stormed in. He slammed the door and locked it, sitting on the edge of the bed. She had to fight back a smile as he began muttering strings of swearwords to himself.
"You're looking peachy today," Harley said mockingly with a smile. She knew he was pissed as hell, but she didn't really care. He hadn't killed her last night, or any of the other nights she had been there. So, as far as she was concerned, there wouldn't be a reason to kill her now.
Or would there?
The Joker grabbed her by the arm and pulled her closer, seemingly mesmerized by her face. Harley avoided his gaze, trying to keep herself from passing out from the gut-wrenching nausea. She looked away from his eyes, her own falling on the painted scars. "You look nervous, princess. Is it the scars?"
Harley looked away from him and fixed her gaze to the floor. She felt the bed shift, and her face was tilted upwards to meet his hard eyes. She tried to keep her mind on other things, like the significance of the painted message and her sudden bout of dizziness.
"Look at me!" The Joker yanked her off the bed, forcing her to look at him. Harley wanted to cry for some reason. It wasn't anything he had done, but she just wanted to let everything out at once. She had gone most of her life without confiding in someone, probably because the only woman she had ever wanted to confide in had died when she was young. She felt her eyes water and she shut them tightly, telling herself not to cry. Her mind went blank, her body moving on its own as she found herself clinging to the Joker's coat. Her body shook as she fought the tears, but her nerve to maintain control had failed.
"I'm sorry," she choked, feeling his gaze on her. It killed her to let go, but she was afraid of how he would react to her near emotional breakdown. Harley sat back down on the bed, trying to piece together an excuse as to why she was crying.
I'm pathetic, she told herself. I'm just a pawn to be used in his games. I'm nothing more to him than that. Men never understand things like that, and he's the last person that would understand. I shouldn't even be here! I should be dead! Why didn't he kill me?
"You wanna know how I got 'em, don't you?"
Harley lifted her head and watched him toy with the switchblade. Why did he always carry that thing around? Did it have something to do with the past? Where did the scars come from? Hundreds of questions tumbled around in Harley's head. And she seriously started to believe that she was falling for him even harder.
"You wanna know, don't you?" He sat beside her, watching as she closed the space between them, eventually leaning her head on his arm.
Her eyes darted about the room, trying to find something, anything, to stare at. His constant fidgeting indicated that he wasn't used to such contact. It only made sense. The citizens lived in fear, giving him power over their precious city. But she hadn't cowered. Harley had stared him in the eye and laid down the law.
Maybe that's why he kept her around.
"I want to know..." Harley said, barely above a whisper. "Tell me... how it happened..."
"Well, my father... was.. a drinker. And a fiend. And one night, he goes off crazier than usual. Mommy gets the kitchen knife to defend herself; he doesn't like that. Not... one... bit.
"Me watching, he takes the knife to her, laughing while he does it. He turns to me, and he says... 'Why so serious?' He comes at me with the knife... 'Why so serious?' He sticks the blade in my mouth... 'Let's put a smile on that face...' And..."
He took the blade to his mouth, imitating the way he had been cut. Harley stared in horror, eyes welling up with tears again. She couldn't believe it. How could anyone do such a terrible thing? She buried her face in his coat, and cried; she wasn't crying out of fear, but out of pity. She was crying for him, for all the pain he had carried inside and out; for the wounds that would never heal. All she wanted to do, was take all that away; to show him that he wasn't the only one who had been left in pain. Harley clung to the dark coat, feeling comforted just by being near him.
6 - 7 - 6 - 7
It was torture, living in the dark. Unable to share himself with his loved ones. He had Alfred to confide in, but it was just so different from talking to Rachel. She had understood him perfectly, almost as well as she understood herself. Perhaps he had relied too heavily upon her. And now, she was gone, having left him behind to face the world on his own. He hadn't even been able to give her a proper burial.
Now, she was just like his parents and Harvey: Gone
It had been dumb luck that the Joker had chosen to crash Harvey's fundraiser in Bruce's penthouse. That explained how he'd been able to save Rachel. She'd been right there, fighting a madman in order to save Harvey. What good had he done by locking the District Attorney in a closet? Had he simply allowed the Joker to kill Harvey, Rachel would still be alive.
And she would hate him for letting Harvey die.
The trembling man had mentally beaten himself for weeks on end after her death on that horrid night. He remembered it so clearly... He had been too late to save her. The sky had lit up like the Fourth of July when the bomb went off. He may have been tending to Harvey's burns at the time, but his gut had told him that Gordon hadn't made it in time. The memories of that fatal night tortured him, and all he could think about was how he had failed Rachel.
How he had let the Joker kill her.
It's my fault... My fault...
6 - 7 - 6 - 7
The Joker sat in the interrogation room at MCU, handcuffed, with a small lamp giving off the only light. Large windows were set into the heavy brick wall on one side and the heavily bolted door sat opposite of the Joker. Jim Gordon entered the room, the door buzzing as it was opened. He crossed the room and took a seat in the chair across from Gotham's Clown Prince.
"Evening, Commissioner," the Joker hissed, licking his bottom lip. He was clearly enjoying the disturbed look on the Commissioner's tired face.
Jim ignored the greeting, if you could call it that, and got right down to business. "Harvey Dent never made it home," he said, lacing his fingers together on the steel table. Jim was getting fed up with all the chaos that the Joker had been creating.
The Joker fought back a grin. "Of course not."
"What have you done with him?" Jim leaned forward on his arms, waiting for the response.
"Me?" the Joker said innocently. "I was right here." He held up his shackled hands for the Commissioner, setting them on the table. "Who did you leave him with? Hm? Your people? Assuming, of course, that they are still your people... and not Maroni's." The mobster's name was spoken with a slight edge. "Does it depress you, Commissioner, to know... just how alone you really are? Does it make you feel responsible for Harvey Dent's current predicament?"
Jim narrowed his eyes at the Joker, trying to send the message that he wasn't going to put up with any of the man's bullshit. "Where is he?"
The Joker rolled his tongue around inside his mouth. "What's the time?"
"What difference does that make?"
"Well," the Joker leaned forward. "Depending on the time, he may be in one spot, or several."
Jim pushed himself up out of the chair, resting his palms on the table. "If we're gonna play games," he said, removing the Joker's handcuffs, "I'm gonna need a cup of coffee." With that, Jim simply shoved the handcuffs in his pocket and walking to the door.
"Ah, the 'good cop, bad cop' routine?" the Joker chuckled, watching Jim's every move.
"Not exactly," the Commissioner said with a slight grin as he left the room. The lights suddenly went on, momentarily blinding the madman, and the Batman, who came out of nowhere, slammed the Joker's head into the table.
"Never start with the head, the victim gets all fuzzy," the Joker said, blinking several times. "He can't feel the next-" Batman slammed his fist on the Joker's hand on the table. The Joker took the hit without so much as twitching and stared at the Dark Knight. "See?"
Batman sat in the chair across from the madman, glaring at him with piercing blue eyes. "You wanted me. Here I am," he growled.
The Joker leaned forward on the table. "I wanted to see what you'd do. And you didn't disappoint. You let five people die. Then, you let Dent take your place. Even to a guy like me, that's cold."
"Where's Dent?"
"Those mob fools want you gone so they can get back to the way things were. But I know the truth. There's no going back. You've changed things... forever," he said, avoiding the question.
The Batman narrowed his gaze. "Then why do you want to kill me?"
"I-I don't want to kill you!" the Joker laughed. "What would I do without you? Go back to ripping off mob dealers? No. No... no. No, you... you complete me."
Batman's glare intensified, and he growled. "You're garbage who kills for money."
"Don't talk like one of them, you're not!" the Joker snapped, pointing to the officers that were watching through the windows."Even if you'd like to be. To them, you're just a freak... like me! They need you right now, but when they don't... they'll cast you out... like a leper! See, their morals, their code: it's a bad joke. Dropped at the first sign of trouble. They're only as good as the world allows them to be. I'll show you. When the chips are down, these, uh... these civilized people, they'll eat each other. See, I'm not a monster; I'm just ahead of the curve."
The Dark Knight grabbed the Joker by the collar, dragging him across the table. "Where's Dent?"
"You have all these rules, and you think they'll save you," the Joker chuckled.
Batman slammed the bastard against the wall, trying to control himself. "I only have one rule," he snapped.
The Joker licked his lips. "Oh, then that's the rule you'll have to break to know the truth."
"Which is?"
"The only sensible way to live in this world is without rules. And tonight, you're gonna break your one rule," he smirked as the Dark Knight tightened his grip.
"I'm considering it," Batman growled threateningly.
"Well, there's only minutes left, so you're gonna have to play my little game if you want to save one of them."
Batman blinked confusedly. What the hell was the Joker talking about? "'Them?'"
"You know, for a while there, I thought you really were Dent. The way you threw yourself after her," the Joker smirked. In an instant, the Joker was flipped onto the table as Batman grabbed a chair and wedged it under the doorknob.
"Look at you go." The Joker pulled himself from the table and grinned. "Does Harvey know about you and his little bunny?"
Batman slammed the Joker's head into one of the windows, leaving several small cracks in the glass. "Where are they?" he demanded, throwing the criminal to the floor.
"Killing is making a choice," the Joker said in a lecturing tone.
Batman hit him in the head, sending the Joker reeling. "WHERE ARE THEY?"
"You choose between one life or the other. Your friend the District Attorney, or his blushing bride to be..." the Joker cackled as Batman hit him again.
Batman was seething as the Joker laughed again. "You have nothing.. nothing to threaten me with. Nothing to do with all your strength," he choked, as Batman pulled him off the floor by his shirt. "Don't worry... I'm gonna tell you where they are. Both of 'em. And that's the point: you'll have to choose. He's at 250 52nd Street. And she's ah, on Avenue X at Cicero."
The Dark Knight slammed him into the wall again, kicked the chair away from the door, and stormed out.
Two flashbacks. Both crucial. Please review.