Author's Note: Well glad to be getting some positive feedback. Now I'm honestly nervous that I'll let you guys down or disappoint. I honestly took up this project for fun and as practice since I'm trying to develop some OCs that are similar to Batman and Joker in some of their personalities and beliefs. But anyway, just to let you know this will have some sexual content you know male on male stuff but not at first. Most of the fanfics I've read tend to just jump the gun into the sex and I'm not hating or anything I just want my interpretation of their relationship to build up and as realistically possible get to that point. Well hope you enjoy just wanted to get that out of the way.
As soon as the police surrounded the area, Gotham's caped crusader had already swooped past their barricade and apprehended Two Face and his thugs. This heist was shoddy and last minute, as expected from someone who had just escaped Arkham and desperate for money. Batman was content with his victory over the ex-district attorney but there was still work to be done. Word on the street is that Two Face's escape was aided by none other than the Joker. That madman was still loose and it was Batman's duty to bring him back to Arkham. Before the Dark Knight left the scene he stepped in something wet. He looked down and saw a puddle of blood. How did he not notice this before?! None of the hostages were injured and he had only knocked a few heads but not causing any damage to Two Face or the goons that would make them bleed this much. Someone was hurt and somehow managed to walk out towards the back exit. Batman quickly followed the trail and stormed out the back door. Thunder crashed against the now black ink sky as heavy rain began to fall. This was bad, he had to find whoever had left the blood trail before the rain washed it away and before it is too late. It has always been his duty to protect the innocent and uphold justice. There was no way he was going to let someone die on his watch. He began to hear some clatter from trash cans in the alley up ahead; he ran faster causing his cape to flutter frantically with his hurried movement. Once he came into the darkness of the alleyway he couldn't believe what his blue eyes gazed upon.
There, just a few feet away from him, laid the Joker. He was bleeding from a wound near his stomach, unconscious against the brick wall. The rain had soaked his expensive purple suit and pale skin that seemed even whiter under the moon's light. The clown wasn't moving; Batman immediately went to the clown and checked his pulse. It was weak and his chest was moving shallowly with each strained breath. Almost instinctively Batman grabbed the Joker and carried him in his arms. He had to hurry time was running out. The detective pressed on a button on his belt that turned the Batmobile on and pinpointed his location to drive rapidly to him. He began to walk out of the alleyway and to the street to meet his car. The Joker was shivering and shaking in his arms, he'd never seen the clown this vulnerable before. As soon as the car pulled up and the hull opened up he placed the jester inside and buckled the seatbelt. He jumped inside and drove off in a hurry. He turned on the communicator in order to reach his faithful butler Alfred.
"Alfred, I need you to get the cave ready: medical supplies, blankets, anything you'll require to treat a gunshot wound," ordered Bruce.
"Is everything all right sir? You're not hurt are you?!" questioned calmly Alfred but still showing his concern for his master.
"It's not me who's injured. You won't believe me if I told you."
"Master Bruce, I hear of the daredevil acts you are prone of committing. I have seen you jump from skyscrapers, solve seemingly impossible cases and fight against forces beyond the limits of a mere man, I think I can handle whatever it is," Alfred responded sardonically.
"The Joker was shot and I'm bringing him to the cave," replied Bruce with a sigh. At this point he was just waiting for Alfred to argue back. The statement was crazy after all.
"Sir, are you insane!? I don't believe what I am hearing, did you say you're bringing the madman here?!" he responded in disbelief.
"Please Alfred I don't have time to argue. Just do as I say I'll be at the cave in ten minutes," demanded Bruce not wanting to argue anymore.
"Of course Master Bruce, I sure do hope you know what you're doing," said the butler in defeat as he cut off the conversation feed to do as he was instructed.
The minutes seemed to pass like hours but time was slipping rapidly past Bruce's fingers like grains of sand, the Joker didn't have a lot of time left. He had to remain calm; doubting himself now could cause the clown his life. Though the clown annoyed and has caused irreversible harm to him, he had to admit the Joker never doubted himself. He did things with finesse and confidence, where Bruce only worried and held his fears even as Batman. He secretly envied the Joker to some extent, if only that man could use those qualities for good instead of causing all of Gotham death and grief. There was an eerie silence in the Batmobile, the only sounds resonating in his ears was the low roar of the engine, the pitter-patter of the rain as it hit the windshield and the madman's shallow and burdened breathing; but even that was almost mute. The Clown Prince of Crime was never this silent; the only way he knew how to shut the deranged man up was to knock his lights out. But even then Joker would still mutter incoherently and smile in his unconscious state. Not this time though, he was dead quiet and his ruby lips were formed to an almost peaceful expression instead of his trademark and creepy grin. He merely gripped the wheel and concentrated on the wet road, time was fading quickly just like the distant sound of thunder.
The Batmobile raced through the secret entrance of the Batcave and came to a fast but smooth stop. The hull opened and Bruce unbuckled the Joker's seatbelt. He jumped out and carefully carried the clown from his place. Alfred stood aghast but attentively as he waited for his master.
"Did you get what I asked Alfred?" questioned Bruce straight away as he headed for the medical table where Alfred normally treats the Dark Knight's wounds.
"As you requested sir, I've prepared for the clown's arrival," responded Alfred not hiding his objections from before.
Bruce laid Joker on top of the table and removed his gloves, cowl and cape so he could aid his butler more efficiently. Meanwhile, Alfred began to strip the madman from his stained and wet coat, vest and shirt. Once he shed his top clothing and revealed skin, the butler let out an audible gasp. Bruce immediately turned his attention to them and saw what exactly left Alfred stunned. The Joker's pale, white skin displayed an array of marks and sickly bruises. Had he done all these to him?! No, he couldn't have. He admitted that he roughed up the jester and used excessive force from time to time but these scars and marks were from regular abuse, he hadn't touched Joker in a month since his last escape. Bruce pulled himself together once Alfred began laying out supplies, and placing on oxygen mask on the clown.
"Do you need help?" asked Bruce.
"No, I have a handle on the situation, Master Bruce. From what I can see the bullet made a clean exit and nothing major was hit since he's managed to hang on this long," replied the butler in calm demeanor as he worked. "You should get out of that armor and rest while I attend to our new 'house guest'."
That sounded so good right now; recently Batman has been pulling later than usual nights and longer, boring meetings as Bruce during the day getting little to no sleep for a week. It was mostly because he was searching for Two Face and Joker for the past few days. He seemed lucky to catch them so quickly and without people getting hurt. The Joker wasn't so lucky; Bruce began to assume that the Joker and Two Face's partnership ended in a bad note. The Joker never did play nice with others, probably crossed some line with Two Face and got a bullet as an award. Why did he have to make everything so hard on himself?
After what seemed like hours Bruce woke up from his slumber. He took up Alfred's suggestion and now felt rested. Once he rose from the bed he kept at the far corner of the cave to take breaks, he immediately made his way to the medical area to check on Alfred and the Joker. As soon as he got there he saw that Alfred had moved the pale clown to a more comfortable bed. The Joker was resting underneath a thick, light blue blanket and an intravenous drip beside the bed. The butler acknowledged his master with a rather tired gaze as he collected his supplies and set them inside a bag. "Sleep well?" was all he said.
"Yeah, you should take it easy now, I'll keep watch now. He wasn't any trouble was he?" asked Bruce.
"Not at all, he was as quiet as a cadaver," he said simply. Bruce remained silent at the butler's rather scornful comment. "I couldn't find attire suitable for our guest. Rather odd figure he has."
"Well maybe later you can run to the store and get him something that'll fit. I think he's about 6'4."
"Goodness he's two inches taller than you, I had almost assumed he was a lot shorter since he's such a rather skinny fellow," replied Alfred with skepticism.
"I learned a long time ago never to underestimate him; you always expect the unexpected with this guy."
"Well I'll fetch him some clothes that fit, later on while I'm doing the errands," said Alfred as he went upstairs to the main manor to get some deserved rest.
Bruce placed a naked hand to his uncovered face. He just realized that he was out of costume in the presence of his greatest enemy in his most inner sanctum. It almost seemed like a weight being lifted off his chest but he knew that this was still a dangerous game. It was probably on the safe side if he put on the black leather and kevlar, even though the Caliph of Clowns was out like a rock. It almost seemed like this was the first time he's gotten any rest. Before leaving his enemy's side he pulled down the blanket just a little to reveal his thin but somewhat toned torso. Bruce saw his butler's handy work and the fruits of his labor, from all the gauze and bandages that went into not only treating the bullet would but also many of the madman's unattended injuries. He never knew how beaten Joker really was, mostly because he hides himself underneath that gaudy purple clothing. But who was he to talk. Bruce had his own scars that he always hides underneath an expensive black suit or in his tights and armor as Batman. Just then the pale clown began to shiver from being exposed to the cave's chilly and open environment. He immediately placed the covers back over his new "house guest" and swiftly made his way to don on his other persona, Batman.