AN: The 'gun in the classroom' incident is from the comics. Jonathan lost his teaching position for firing it in class to prove a point to his students about fear. In retrospect, he was rather unhinged even before he started the fear toxin experiments.

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"Yeah, it's definitely broken." Joker emerged from the closet, wiping grime from the heater against his pants. "And no, I can't fix it. I can't see what was holding it together in the first place, except maybe for the Force."

"Lovely." It shouldn't have made that much of a difference, given that it was only October, but this was Gotham. The weather here never seemed so much a pattern as an attack against the residents, coming in only three varieties: scorching hot, pouring rain, and freezing cold. All right, so there were pleasant or at least mild days, but few and far in between. Jonathan had once heard a theory that Gotham had been built on a portal to some vile, Lovecraftian dimension, and when an October day could be in the low twenties, it was hard to dismiss the idea. He imagined Arkham would be built over the worst of the rift, if it were true. Certainly that would explain the recovery rates and the downward spiral of chaos his life had becoming after taking the administrator position.

All right, so there had been that whole 'dismissed from Gotham University after firing a gun in the classroom' incident before he went to Arkham, but things had been comparatively well.

"So we're finding a new evil lair?" he guessed.

Joker smirked. "Of all the villains, I never thought you'd say things like 'evil lair.' No offense, but you always seem way too uptight to have any fun with what you do."

"Just because I care about my research doesn't mean I can't see that dressing in costume and running wild through the city is ridiculous." Less ridiculous when he did it, though, as his mask actually served a purpose, with the air filter. And he didn't have a full costume, unlike the other rogues. Well, sometimes a straitjacket, but that wasn't a stylistic choice so much as being forced to fight too soon after he'd broken out to change.

"Yeah, but I didn't think you'd feel that way about yourself," he said, as if reading Jonathan's thoughts. "You're kinda a complete narcissist."

"Am not."

"Are so. Betcha if I wanted, I could get you to do absolutely anything if I complimented you enough."

"Is it a good idea to tell me your plans to manipulate me before you try them?" Jonathan asked drily. Not that he needed forewarning. If he were being manipulated, he would know. Probably. The Joker was unpredictable and emotional in areas where Jonathan only had logic, but he wasn't an idiot. He'd be able to tell.

"Ah, you'd never see it coming anyway."

"I doubt that."

"I don't." He shrugged. "Anyway, yeah, we need a new lair."

Wonderful. House-hunting with the Joker. He could just picture that. It would be something like that television show House Hunters crossed with a snuff film. Oh, this was giving him a migraine already. He tried to look on the bright side, only to find that there weren't enough positive things here to outweigh the bad, only small perks. "Can the new lair not be covered in filth?" he asked. It really wasn't that much of a request, he didn't think. It could work.

Another shrug. "Dunno how clean my men usually keep things. If it bothers you that much, I guess I can tell 'em to—"

"Wait, wait, wait." Jonathan held his hands up, feeling a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. He had a guess he knew where this was going, and were he the praying type, he would have been petitioning God to prove his wrong. He still did, actually, on the off chance it might work. "What do you mean, your men?"

"Well, we're going to stay with them, obviously," Joker said, his ever-present grin widening.

Damn him for enjoying this. What sort of sick freak was amused by another's suffering? Besides himself, it was fine when he did it. "Couldn't we just stay here and…burn things for warmth?"

"Do you have a fear of people we need to conquer next, or are you just misanthropic? C'mon, kitten, it's not that bad. If any of 'em are idiots I'll shoot 'em. Or let you run tests on 'em, or something. Besides, you can order 'em around all you want. It's great."

"But why do we have to go there in the first place? Why can't we just find a different apartment?" He didn't want to be around others, test subjects or not. The more people around, the great the chance something would go wrong. And he couldn't stand the thought of carrying on their relationship in front of others. That had something to do with being called a faggot one too many times as a kid, probably.

"Because you said you'd have the chemicals mixed right in about a week, and I don't wanna slow down the process. I'd like to get Batsy's attention as soon as possible." The glitter in his eyes told Jonathan he'd been planning ways to get the Batman's attention, all of them surely horrible.

"I could have been wrong," he offered, without much hope. "It might take much longer, so we may as well find another apartment."

"I'm not stupid, you know." Joker took hold of Jonathan's hand, his grip not yet forceful but hinting that it could become so, and lead him back toward the bedroom. "And neither are you, my little genius. If you said it'd be ready in a week, it will. I have the utmost confidence in you, Jonny."

"Are you trying to flatter me now?"

"No." Joker released him and gave him a light shove in the direction of their belongings. "I'm threatening you. Now get your stuff together."

Jonathan weighed the benefits of obedience versus defiance and found, to his chagrin, that obedience had no benefits. Thus fifteen minutes time found them in the car, Joker on his cell phone informing whoever had the misfortune to be talking to him that the master bedroom had better be cleared out of them and threatening a number of cruel and unusual punishments if it wasn't. The one with the corkscrew sounded particularly painful, though the electric mixer seemed most creative.

"There's nothing I can do to talk you out of this?" he asked once the clown had hung up. There was no pointing in asking anymore, not really, but perhaps he could annoy the other into giving up.

Joker considered it, tongue over his lips. "Can I deflower you?"

"No."

"I was kidding, scaredy cat. God, lighten up. Do you ever have fun?"

"I have fun."

Joker raised a brow. "'Kay, what about fun that doesn't involve scaring people?"

"And that shouldn't count why?"

The Joker shook his head, giggling slightly. "What about your split personality? He ever enjoy himself?"

"I don't have a split personality." Jonathan assumed he was referring to Scarecrow. Rather ironic, given that Scarecrow enjoyed frightening others far more than he did, and without any of that boring research attached.

"Your whatever-you-call-it, then. I think Harley referred to it as your unrestrained side in her notes. He sounds interesting."

Jonathan smirked a bit himself, at the thought of it. "I don't think you'd get along."

"Why is that?"

"Because he's a bit of an idiot." He ignored the protest from the back of his mind at this and went on. "He's a little more like you, unrestrained as you said. He doesn't let things like logic or common sense get in his way—"

"Sounds like my kinda guy."

"—So he'd have no problem with poisoning, say, you, to see what would happen." Jonathan had considering poisoning him on more than one occasion, honestly. Unlike Scarecrow, he had a better sense of self-preservation than that.

"I can see how that might be a problem."

"Yes."

"I bet he'd be better in bed, though."

The urge to repeatedly smash his head against the dashboard was overwhelming, despite being about ninety percent sure that the Joker wasn't serious. "We're the same person. You do realize that, right?"

"Yeah, but he's less inhibited. Lemme know next time he's around, okay?"

Jonathan did not tell him that at that moment Scarecrow was contemplating all the ways he could knock out Joker's teeth. "Yeah, sure."

When they arrived there were men outside waiting to take their bags. He recognized none of them but Knox, the one with the braids, whom he was slightly surprised to see. Weeks had passed since their last encounter, and he wouldn't have thought a man in the Joker's employ would live that long. Then again, the Joker hadn't carried out any plans recently, so that may have added on to the expected life span.

This apartment was cleaner—well, anything would have been cleaner than the last one, which still had a thin layer of dirt over everything no matter how hard it was scrubbed—and far better lit, he was happy to discover. If it weren't for the smell of alcohol pervading through everything, from the carpets to the bed sheets to the air itself, and the constant talk reminding him of the presence of others, it would have been perfect.

He lay back on the bed, considering the situation. Joker didn't have any respect for privacy, at least not that he'd seen, and no need for any himself, so more than likely he'd been willing to carry things on as they'd been when the pair was alone. Or possibly carry them on further. Joker gave the impression of being a bit of an exhibitionist, he thought. Unless it risked his men's respect; Jonathan wasn't sure if he'd be more likely to kill any dissenters and go on as usual, or avoid the issue all together and ignore the relationship.

So my choices are be his trophy wife or be shunned. Fantastic.

His mental struggle was interrupted when the door opened, and he sat up to see Knox come in, carrying the last box of chemicals. "Matter where I put this?"

Jonathan shrugged. "You're still alive, then?" If he was going to live here, he might as well begin adding slight threats to his words now. A henchman who didn't fear you was a stab in the back waiting to happen.

Unfortunately, the man seemed amused more than anything else. "It's not that hard to do, if you're not an idiot about it. How've you been?"

"Fine." Who just up and started conversations with super villains, especially when there was a great supply of dangerous chemicals around? Maybe that was his strategy, confuse everyone too much to kill him. Or to seem likeable. Whatever. There were currently about five people in the entire world that he liked, and he didn't see the list expanding any time soon.

He noticed a smile growing on the man's face and stiffened a bit, out of annoyance more than anything else. "Something for you?"

"Nothing." He sounded amused. Jonathan, both irritated and a little apprehensive, tried followed Knox's gaze and realized he seemed to be staring at Jonathan's neck. Where, he remembered, the skin was still discolored from the Joker's bite.

Oh, this is just great. He raised a hand to cover the mark, but the damage had been done. "Let me guess, seeing that just won you a bet?"

He nodded, probably thinking it best not to answer. Correctly, because if Jonathan heard so much as the start of a smart remark, he may have killed him. He still might.

"Hey kids." The Joker shouldered past Knox and into the room, carrying his suitcase of weapons. Only he was allowed to touch it, as he'd explained to Jonathan when they were loading the car, though the thing must have weighed over a hundred pounds from all he had it in. It made sense though, he supposed, that the weapons would be the most important thing to the man.

Knox wisely took the moment of distraction to make his exit.

"They know about us," Jonathan informed the Joker, watching as he slid the suitcase under the bed. "Does that bother you?'

"Not unless they make it an issue. They do, they're dead. That cool with you?"

"Yes," he said, hoping he'd be the one to do it. "That's perfectly acceptable."