AN: And so I return to college, only to have a fire in my dorm on the first night back. Don't worry, I'm fine (and so is everyone else) and thus the updates will not be interrupted.

Thanks for the reviews!

"The extract from the Thai flowers will take some time to get, of course, a few weeks at least, but once I have that I should be able reproduce the original formula—"

"Yeah, sounds good. C'mon."

Crane was vaguely aware that he was being led somewhere, but his location didn't seem important at the moment. Not compared to this new compound, anyway. He'd been brainstorming for hours now, to the point where it almost seemed that the ideas were too much for him to contain alone, he had to express them. "My notes for that compound were confiscated by the police, obviously, along with the rest of my research, but I'm fairly sure I know exactly what went into it."

"Uh-huh, that's great."

"And even if I don't, I know which parts I'm unsure on, so from there it should be simple enough to figure out what needs to be altered, and then—" he trailed off, blinking. There was cold air on his face and dark sky all around, and it dawned on him that they were outside. "Where are we?"

"The roof," said the Joker, amused, his hand in Crane's. He heard quiet laughter behind them, and turned his head to find two of the clown's henchman there. One looked amused, the other slightly disappointed. Strange.

"Why are we up here?"

"To see if it would wake ya up. Remind me never to ask ya what you're working on again. You've been talking nonstop for three hours, scaredy cat."

"I have?" Come to think of it, his voice did feel hoarse. He found himself drinking water without thinking about it, and stopped to stare at the plastic bottle in his hand. "Where did I get this?"

"Knox there," Joker tilted his head towards the amused-looking man, "gave it to ya half an hour ago."

Crane took him in. He was tall, well over six foot, with hair tightly braided, and wearing a trenchcoat. "Why?"

"We had a bet on what would snap you out of it," Knox explained. "I bet water, so it looks like I lost."

"And I," said the Joker, giving Crane's hand a squeeze, "won, 'cause I bet taking ya outside. So pay up, men."

Knox gave a resigned shrug, reaching into the trench coat's pockets and pulling out a number of crumpled bills, which he smoothed out before handing them over. The other henchman groaned, but also surrendered his money.

"What did you bet?" Crane asked.

"That you'd tire yourself out."

"Sorry to disappoint."

"Well, that's settled," said the Joker, searching through his pockets. Crane guessed he was looking for a place to hold cash that wasn't full of knives. "So I guess you're free to go, comrades."

They turned to leave, Knox giving Joker a final glance. "Have fun with your new Harley, boss."

"His new what?" Crane demanded. He wasn't sure exactly what the man had meant to imply, but he doubted it was anything good.

"This one's a little different than that, Knoxy."

"If you say so." They were gone.

"Why did he call me Harley?"

The Joker grinned. "I believe he thinks our relationship is of a, uh, carnal nature."

Crane felt as if he'd been slapped. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, don't act so shocked. You're pretty, you're obviously gay, and I don't let people share my bed unless I'm, ya know, getting something outta it—"

"You have a girlfriend!"

Joker went into another laughing fit, this one hard enough to bring tears to his eyes. Crane watched, annoyed, as the minutes ticked by. "And just what, may I ask, is so funny?" he demanded, once the laughter had lessened enough for his voice to be heard over it.

"Sorry, it's just that—" he dissolved into another fit of giggles. "Ya just totally proved it."

"Proved what?"

"That you're gay."

He sighed. "Oh, really? And you arrived at this conclusion how?"

"Gee, I dunno. Maybe 'cause when I called ya gay, instead of denying it or getting angry, the first thing that popped into your head was that I'd be cheating on Harl if we were together."

Crane tried to pull his hand out of the Joker's grip, but the clown just tightened his hold. "And I suppose that couldn't possibly indicate that I'm unaffected by your petty attempts to anger me, and nothing more?"

"Oh, stop dodging the issue. You're only embarrassing yourself." He took Crane's other hand in his, pulling him forward so there were only inches between them. Crane shuddered, almost imperceptibly. "Seriously, though, are ya or aren'tcha?"

"I fail to see how that's any of your business." He tried pulling back and gave up when the Joker pulled him again, so that their bodies were touching. Well, this couldn't get any more awkward. It was bad enough that he was forced to remain here, as long as the Joker had the antipsychotics, but now he had to deal with having his sexuality brought into question. It really wasn't fair. Yes, life wasn't fair, but just once couldn't it be unfair in a manner that benefitted him?

It didn't help that he honestly did not have an answer to that question. He'd never thought about his orientation before, not really. He'd never been involved seriously involved with anyone, man or woman, nor had he made a habit of lusting after others. Crane barely considered himself a sexual being, so removed was he from the whole thing. Not that he was going to explain all that to the Joker. He wasn't going to dignify this situation by answering.

"Well…" Joker ran a tongue over his lips, his hands trailing upwards from Crane's wrists and interlocking their fingers. "Technically, I guess it's not, but if ya want me to let go anytime soon, you'd probably wanna answer."

"That's an idiotic threat. You can't hold me up here indefinitely; you'll be just as affected by hunger and fatigue as I will." Which, logically, he knew to be true, but it was hard to imagine anything affecting the Joker. It was almost as if he was more of a force of nature than a human being. Only nature didn't hold people captive on rooftops, asking stupid questions.

"Maybe. Ya wanna test that theory?"

"Why do you care, anyway?" he asked, trying and failing to keep the irritation from his voice. "Even if I am, you made it more than clear the last time we worked together that you're not. I could be absolutely flaming or straight as an arrow; it wouldn't make any difference to you."

"I never said I was straight," Joker said, surprised enough to let go of his hands. "I don't fit into any neat little category, I'm whatever I want. What I said was that it wouldn't, uh, work out between us."

"Whatever." Crane turned before he could be taken hold of again, and made his way back to the fire escape. "It doesn't matter what I am, because you're not my type."

"Oh, say it ain't so, honey!" the Joker cried in mock despair, hands over his heart as he followed.

"It's 'honey' now?"

He shrugged. "It's whatever I feel like. What don't ya like about me Jonny? Is it the scars?"

It's always the scars with him, isn't it? The scars weren't even that bad, at least, not in comparison to that Arkham patient with half his face burnt off. "No, it's more the breaking my arm, using me as Bat Bait, keeping me hostage, slapping around my best friend stuff."

"Harley doesn't mind that."

"Harley's insane. Entirely because of your influence."

"Well, that's debatable. I could say her hold on reality wasn't that great to begin with, if I could push her over the edge that easy. Anyway, I'm not holding ya hostage. You're free to go any time ya want."

"Right." Crane opened the apartment door and stepped inside. "Because being free and mad is such an enticing prospect."

"Hey, if ya can't be bothered to take your pills from me by force, or steal some more, that's hardly my fault."

Crane ignored him, taking in his surroundings. It seemed the coffee table was capable of supporting things after all; a notebook lay open on it, pages covered in his small, slanted writing. He recalled, now that he thought about, writing notes for quite some time before the Joker asked him what he was up to, but he did not recall how the room became so clean, or how the sofa sitting in the middle of the floor or the TV in the corner had come to be there. He'd always known when he focused on something, he blocked everything else out, but this was the first time he'd realized to what extent he did that.

Joker was still talking behind him, something about his lack of action to free himself showing his subconscious desire to stay or some such nonsense, which Crane half listened to as he made his way back into the bedroom. "What time is it?" he asked, cutting his companion off mid-sentence.

The Joker looked annoyed, but pulled out his watch anyway as he sat down on the bed. "About eight thirty. Why?"

"Because I need the pills again."

"Ah." He leaned against the pillows, arms resting behind his head. "That's nice."

Crane didn't even bother to try counting to ten this time. "Well?"

"See, I've been thinking," Joker said, examining his nails. "Since whether or not ya get this is entirely up to me, I think I'm gonna make things a little more interesting. Ya want the pills now? You're gonna have to kiss me to get 'em."

It was about a minute before his brain could form words to respond. "What?!"

"Ya heard me."

"Why?"

"'Cause ya never answered my question from before. So I want ya to kiss me, 'cause I think I'll get the answer from how ya kiss."

Crane sulked, though he would have been too proud to admit it, glaring at the clown, arms crossed. "That is the most idiotic thing I've ever heard. You're just going to say I'm gay because I kissed you."

Joker shrugged. "That's a definite possibility. The question is, kitten, how bad do ya want these?" He produced the bottle from his pocket, gently waving it back and forth.

Jesus Christ. Had he died without realizing it and ended up in hell? Psychosis couldn't be worse than kissing this maniac. He'd done it once, months ago, against his will, and would like to relive the experience about as much as he'd like to be locked in an interrogation room with Batman and no security cameras. He glared at the Joker, still leaning nonchalantly against the headboard, about to tell him quite colorfully exactly what he thought of him…when he had an idea.

"Fine," he said, with an exasperated sigh, sitting down beside the Joker with the air of a man walking to the gallows.

Behind the black makeup, the clown's eyes widened. "Really? Just like that?"

"Shut up," he said through gritted teeth, leaning forward. "This is bad enough without your commentary."

"You're shaking," the Joker commented, his voice sounding as if he were trying to hold back a giggle.

"Your point? Last time we kissed you threw me across a room."

"Well, now ya know not to bite, don't ya?"

Crane rolled his eyes before shutting them tightly. His mouth barely made contact with the Joker's, just enough to feel the smooth texture of the lipstick there, before he pulled back. "There. Now hand it over."

"Absolutely not."

"What?"

"Ya call that a kiss? That was pathetic. You're gonna have to do a hell of a lot better than that."

"Our lips came in contact, did they not?"

"Well, yeah," Joker said, shaking his head. "But there's more to a kiss than that, kitten, a lot more. Come here."

And before Crane could react, the Joker's hands were on either side of his face, pulling him forward, slamming their mouths into each other. And slamming was the exact word for it; Crane was fairly sure the contact made his teeth cut into his skin. He kept his eyes open as the Joker—was he biting Crane's lips? Yes, biting, not hard but still biting. What in the hell was the appeal of that? He focused on the pills, lying to the sheets on the Joker's right, and raised his own hands, placing them gently on either side of the Joker's face like the Joker was holding him. He didn't respond.

Crane pulled back, abruptly, tightening his grip at the same time and slamming the Joker's head back into the headboard, once, twice, three times. Each time there was a sickening crack, be it from bones cracking or just impact, he wasn't sure. The clown fell back onto the bed, limp, eyes crossed and half closed. Crane couldn't tell if he was conscious or not, but it didn't look as if he'd be getting up anytime soon. "I got what I wanted," he said, taking the pills and putting them in his own pocket. "And so did you. Was it everything you hoped for, honey?"

And with that he was running as if pursued by a Batman out of hell, leaping over obstacles in his path as opposed to taking time to avoid them. I just attacked the Joker, fuck, I just attacked the Joker, he's going to kill me and he's going to take his time. He heard no footsteps behind him but that hardly mattered, Crane would have freely admitted that he was terrified, and wanted nothing more than to get as far away from here as possible, as fast as he could, and then book a flight to somewhere safely far away, like Fiji. Or Mars.

He threw the door open, not bothering to shut it behind him, not so much running as leaping outside. His feet hit pavement, he chose a direction at random, and ran with all he had.

Which wasn't enough, apparently, because he was caught halfway down the street. He never even heard the Joker coming, all he knew was that one moment he was running, and the next he'd been knocked off his feet, flying forward. He hit the ground hard, one foot twisting wrong beneath him, painfully wrong, enough to make him cry out. There was no time to reflect on it, however, because then the Joker was on top of him, pulling his arm behind his back in a way it was not meant to bend, which was every bit if not more painful.

The Joker glared down at him, his expression worse than any pain Crane was feeling. The last time he'd seen the clown look this angry, a woman had had her face beatened in for testing him. With the Joker's weight pinning him down, the asphalt scraping into his face, and the pain firing from his shoulder and ankle, it was very easy to believe the same would happen to him.

The Joker twisted his arm further, the joint popping out of the socket with a sound even worse than his torturer's head had made against the bed frame, and Crane screamed. "Stupid move, kitten. I bet ya regret it now, don'tcha?"

He was picked up, carried back toward the apartment, the pain coming in waves with each step. His vision swam, head spinning, and he could just make out the Joker saying, "And no, it wasn't everything I hoped for. Left a lot to be desired, really," before he passed out.