Reunion, Part I
Weeks had passed since what Bruce mentally referred to as 'that night' had occurred, though it felt to him like months. Each subsequent evening without the Joker left him restless and painfully aware of his loneliness. Alfred had returned from England and was, as always, a comfort, but he couldn't be expected to keep Bruce company twenty-four hours a day. Since the unfortunate events involving Harvey Dent had occurred, Bruce could no longer patrol the streets of Gotham at night in his beloved bat suit to get away from himself. No, he was stuck here, by and with himself and he had no one and nothing to distract him from the ever-increasing visions of a slashed red smile seated smugly beneath the darkest green eyes he'd ever seen.
It's like being haunted by a ghost who still lives, this obsession. It is draining and all-encompassing. He can't focus on any work and there is much of that to be done. He needs to gather up his followers before the memory of him fizzles and fades out of their consciousness. He needs to reignite the fear of Gotham by carrying out some new grand scheme, something big, all lights and fireworks to get their attention. He's worked so hard to get where he is today and he's going to let a little black bat take it all away with one night's passion? A night that went on just long enough to make him realize he wants more.
Bruce has taken to wandering the Narrows at night as neither himself nor Batman. He dresses simply and functionally all in black, long coats, sweats and running shoes. In the past couple of weeks he's managed to discover and stop some petty crimes quickly and discreetly. He needs no thanks or recognition, doing it now only to pass the time in longer strides between the memories and fantasies he's running away from.
Out and about in the middle of the night, he turns a corner into an alley to find a bum in a dirty brown trench coat vandalizing a brick building with a bottle of bright red spray paint. Squinting, he draws nearer to the man and sees the image he's creating: a crude illustration of Batman's cowl with a grinning slash of a mouth running across his cheeks. Bruce hears the soft currents of laughter a second too late and the bum whips around, throwing off the filthy coat to reveal a purple pinstriped suit. Violet gloves affix themselves to his collar and swing him around, pressing his back harshly into the damp wall. He looks into the fathomless eyes of the Joker and is flooded with relief. The madman cocks his head, aiming a crooked smile at him.
"Why, Brucie! Funny seeing you here. Now, what could you be doing, ah, slumming it around these parts so late at night?"
Bruce fights to stop himself from grinning back at the other man and answers him by kneeing him sharply in the stomach. The clown folds in on himself, wheezing with laughter.
"Oh, he wants to play!"
The Joker slowly rises while Bruce circles him carefully, arms out in anticipation of an attack. Joker fixes him with a disarming smile and winks, throwing him off guard just long enough to sneak in an uppercut to his jaw followed by two more sharp hits to the ribs. Grimacing with the pain, Bruce growls and twists away from the blows, raining punches of his own upon the other man's chest and face. With alarming speed, Joker ducks low and barrels into him, an elbow to his gut, ramming him back into the brick wall behind them. He pins him there, his hands wrapped around Bruce's wrists, using his chest and hips to keep Bruce's body still and secure. Both men are panting, their breaths mingling visibly as white clouds in the crisp night air. Bruce's sweaty hair falls around his face, the only mask he keeps between them now, but the Joker's eyes find and lock onto his own. The clown blows the hair back from Bruce's brow, chuckling softly when Bruce closes his eyes to savor the cooling sensation.
"How long have you been comin' round these parts lookin' for me, hmm?" The Joker asks, only a hint of humor in his low voice. Bruce looks at him squarely, too exhausted to deceive.
"You're not an easy man to locate," he says simply. Joker smiles and Bruce's heart swells. Being the focus of those wild, glittering eyes is intoxicating.
"Seek and ye shall find, precious."
"What was your name?" I want to say it to you. I need to know you.
The Joker's grin is gone, the sparkle in his eye turned flinty. His grip on Bruce's wrists tightens painfully.
"I have been trying for years to forget the person that name was attached to. I won't let even you bring it back to me now." The dark green eyes falter and rest upon Bruce's parted lips. "Even you..."
His kiss is a bitter promise that still tastes of the sweetest victory to Bruce.