Author's Note: All of these stories take place in the same timeline, excepting this one (and possibly Wednesday's, but I'm not sure about that one yet.) Thanks! -H

Day Two: A Padded Room for Two

Bruce Wayne was still in shock.

First he was framed for murder, and the police had to come to investigate his house- which had proved he wasn't a murderer but had also, unfortunately, led to the discovery of the Batcave. Which had led to his arrest.

As Jim had explained as he snapped handcuffs around his wrists, the police could turn a blind eye to Batman's doings when they didn't know who he was, but if they were aware that Bruce Wayne had a vigilante night job, he had to be arrested. And then, his lawyer had interviewed him, one thing led to another, and he'd been put in Arkham Asylum.

But it got worse.

Thanks to his vigilante night-job, most of the cells were full, and because one of the doctors wanted to experiment, he was put in a double cell.

With the Joker.

Oh, he was asleep now, but he spent most of his time chattering away about anything and everything. He went into great detail about his plans to bomb the city, which was just as annoying as it was informative, and at one point started to ask him how he should go about kidnapping the mayor. He rambled on and on about anything and everything, pausing just often enough to make it feel like he was trying to conduct a conversation. And even when he was asleep, he snored most of the time.

Bruce groaned and pulled his pillow over his head. He would willingly sit through a life sentence in Arkham if he could just have his own cell. Or even one without this lunatic in it. He'd take the Riddler, Two-Face, Scarecrow, Killer fucking Croc any day over this psychopath.

The Joker gave a loud snort and mumbled a complex math formula in his sleep. Batman pulled the pillow off his head and propped himself up to stare at the clown.

He was curled up under one of the thin Arkham blankets, his hair mussed up. He was clutching his pillow tightly to his chest.

He snorted again, and snuggled deeper into his pillow. "Batman," he mumbled, and Bruce sat up.

Joker hugged the pillow tight to his chest and this time, he didn't say 'Batman.' He said "Bruce."

He buried his face into the pillow and whispered his name again. Bruce squinted at him. His hair was wet- he was sweating, despite the cold in the Arkham cell, and it looked like his cheeks were wet.

Maybe... maybe he should wake him up?

Bruce sighed and pushed himself, crossing over to the cot on the other side of the cell.

Maybe I shouldn't. He definitely read something into it.

The Joker was starting to look agitated. Batman reached down and touched his shoulder. One of his clammy hands clapped onto it instantly, and he curled up.

Joker moaned softly and pulled the pillow close to him, clutching at it with stick-thin arms. "Don't go."

Batman sat down, without moving his arm. "I won't."
He thought for a moment. What had Alfred done for him when he had nightmares? What had he done for Dick, Jason, Tim?

He stroked the Joker's hair. "It's alright."

"Don't leave." Batman pulled his hand back.
"I can't leave, remember? We're locked in a room together."

"Don't-"

"I won't. Don't worry. It's just a bad dream."

And then, the Joker did the unthinkable.

He woke up.

Slowly, he opened his frosty green eyes, and met Bruce's.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Waking you up."

"Why?"
"You were having a bad dream."

"So?"

Bruce opened his mouth, then closed it. He didn't have an answer. "You... you said my name."

The Joker sat up, casually sliding Bruce's hand from his shoulder to his knee. He cupped his chin in his hand and stared at him, rather intently.

"Why should you care?"

Bruce shrugged.

"You shouldn't, B-man. You're not supposed to."

Bruce sighed. "Joker, I'll be blunt. I hate you with every bit of my existence."

"That's sweet of you."

"But-"

"There's a but?"

"But, we're cellmates now, and we're going to have to live with each other. Which is impossible, in my case, because you never shut up, but the way I see it, we should at least try not to murder each other each night."

Joker tilted his head, then patted the space of cot beside him. "Sit."
Bruce obliged.

"Now, Brucey-bat, I'm going to let you in on a little secret. I do not hate you."

"I've heard this speech before."

"Shut up. I am, as I've intoned before, rather fond of you."

"Yes, but it's been a bit hard to take you seriously, between the name and trying to kill me."

The Joker chuckled, wrapping his arm around Bruce's.

"Cell mates are supposed to look out for each other," he said suddenly.

Joker smiled. "Sounds good. You look out for me. I look out for me too."

"Very funny."

The Joker giggled, and rested his head on Bruce's shoulder. It felt a bit nice to be near the Joker- when he wasn't trying to kill him, that is. He put his hand on his knee again.

"I'll look out for you if you look out for me," Joker said softly.

"Deal."