Author's Notes: Sorry took me so long to get this out. I've been really lagging it but here it is! Enjoy the chapter I won't keep you waiting. One more thing thanks for the support amd I hope you enjoy :D
After a few lingering moments sitting beside his sleeping enemy, Bruce decided it was time to leave. Before he stepped away, he reached for a pair of handcuffs. He knew he couldn't leave the curious clown without having some insurance that the jester would stay in place. He cautiously grabbed hold of the Joker's hand and restrained it to one of the bars if the headrest of the bed. He was startled when the metal cuffs clicked as he locked them but to his relief Joker didn't even as much as stir. With that settled he began to walk off and ascend the steps that led to the entrance to his manor. He emerged from the hidden passageway behind the old grandfather clock and immediately headed to his bedroom to remove his suit.
Once there he quickly stripped away his armor and tight fitting fabric under suit. He finally removed the cowl and mask, how a relief it was to take off his other persona. But deep down Bruce knew he could never really separate himself from Batman. Especially with his new house guest who was resting in the Batcave. For his and the people he cared about safety, the clown could never find out Batman's vulnerable side, the man behind the mask. After a well needed shower, Bruce decided to see if Alfred was still awake. The night was still young, the reason he had come home rather early because Gotham was unusually quiet. No major crimes were committed, no one had escaped from Arkham or Blackgate, the police's main concern was the Joker but he was handcuff to a bed in the Batcave so there was no worry there. Nights like this were a rare thing indeed, besides he also wanted to check out the situation of getting the clown some clothes. Almost seeing him naked and draped in nothing but a blanket had reminded him that he asked Alfred to find something suitable. He probably had but didn't dare go into the cave after Bruce heavily forbade it. And the knight didn't have the luxury of time between board meetings and crime fighting to see to that his house guest was being taken care of.
Bruce stepped into the kitchen to find his butler masterfully at work preparing dinner. Once adding on the finishing touches he turned around to find his master watching.
"Oh, Master Bruce, I wasn't aware you had return from your nightly rounds," said the butler as he went off to retrieve plates from the kitchen cabinet.
"It was a quiet night so I thought I'd come home for dinner for once," he smiled.
"Well hopefully you'll enjoy my cooking more fresh and hot rather than shamefully coming in the wee hours of the morning and having to microwave it," he replied.
He marveled at the dinner, a roasted lamb with homemade gravy, baked potato wedges and steamed vegetables. In that moment when he thought of his growling stomach he remembered something. The Joker has been here for a couple of days already and he hasn't eaten a thing. Bruce was really being a horrible host, but it wasn't entirely his fault, he had other obligations as himself and as Gotham's protector. "Alfred, could you fix up a plate to take down to the cave?" he asked as straight faced as he could.
"Thinking of your psychotic guest now are we," responded the old man a bit harshly while he went about to fulfill his master's request. "You'll find the clown's attire that I bought a few days ago in the linen closet in case you were wondering," he added with the least bit of interest in Joker.
"Thanks Alfred," the billionaire replied trying to sound sincere though the sardonic butler was making it rather difficult.
Meanwhile in the cave, Joker was still resting peacefully. It was that good kind of sleep when one was aware of it and wants to stay asleep. But an itch on his nose was beginning to disturb his respite. Once he tried to reach for it, he heard metal rattling and felt something pull at his wrist. His eyes reluctantly fluttered open and saw that he was handcuffed to the bed's headboard. "That sneaky son of a bitch," muttered the clown angrily to himself. Did his bat not trust him this much as to stoop to restraining him? And here the Clown Prince thought he and his Dark Knight were becoming closer. It was the only logical response Joker could come up with as to why he had this strange feeling lately towards the bat in black. No, maybe it was all in his head, what utter madness right? He the Harlequin of Hate, the Caliph of Clowns, the Clown Prince of Crime in love with Batman! He halted his thought process for a moment, why did he use that word? "Love, what a strange way of putting it… Certainly I must be crazy," joked the clown with himself. But to some extent he wasn't sure what to call this warm infatuation with his bat. No other person had been ever to keep up with him, to challenge him at every step. No one else was able to keep him on his toes and his mind sharp. Joker began to mull the idea in his crazed noggin a couple of moments longer. Sure he enjoyed his dance with the Batman, hell he lived for it! But this strange feeling that enveloped him since his knight rescued him from the familiar clutches of death, he wasn't sure how else to explain it.
Before he could think on the subject any longer he heard something open and someone's footsteps descending the stairs. It was Batman carrying a tray of food and what seemed like clothing draped over his shoulder. Joker was almost touched by the gestures; he was actually going out of his way to take care of him. "Oh, Batsy, you shouldn't have. All this for little old me, you're spoiling me," smiled the pale man gleefully as Batman set the tray down on the tabletop beside the clown. He merely ignored the jester's nonsense and handed him the lavender pajamas and green boxer briefs Alfred had bought.
"Here, put these on," said the knight as he turned away from the jester. Joker merely let out an audible "ahem" to get Batman's attention. He turned to face the grinning man and awaited an explanation.
"Ummm… and how do you propose I get changed with this on?" asked the clown as he rattled the handcuff. "Seriously Bats first you strip me naked and then you handcuff me to the bed. I'm starting to get the feeling that you're very much into BDSM," chuckled Joker. Bruce began to blush angrily behind the mask at Joker's sexual insinuations.
"That's not why I did that and you know it!" barked the black clad man.
"Sure, sure, whatever you say Batsy. So do you mind letting me go so I can dress or if you want to do it that will be fine by me. Just be gentle my domineering Bat, I bruise easily," replied the Joker with a wide sensual smile spread on those cherry red lips. He let out a loud sigh as he reached for the cuff's key and unlocked him from the restraint.
"Do you ever know when to stop joking?" asked Batman rhetorically as he turned around. The clown messaged his wrist for a moment, and then reached to examine the clothing. He noted that the pajamas might fit a little loose but it would have to do. He slipped into the clothes he was given, still holding that ever present red smile plastered on his pale face.
"Oh, lighten up Batso. I don't understand why you get so hot under that rubber collar of yours, it's just a joke. Unless, you feel insecure about you're sexuality…" Batman turned around and shot a dirty look at the annoying and now clothed jester. The man looked like he was ready to rip the clown's arm off. Joker loved to play games but decided to let the subject die before his bat would tire of him. "Again, only kidding," added Joker in his defense. Batman merely grabbed onto the bridge of his nose and let out another sigh.
"Well there's food for you on that tray, help yourself," he said as he began to walk off.
"Wait, you're not going to join me? I thought you could stay," spoke the Joker before his bat could fly off.
"Stay and do what?" questioned the detective.
"Just talk, I really dislike being by myself. Besides I enjoy your company," said the jester. It almost sounded like he was begging him for attention. What could it hurt? Beside he wasn't going to leave the Clown Prince alone in the cave, he was merely going to his computer to keep an eye on him from afar. Joker wasn't asking for much, just a little company, reasoned the billionaire to himself. But still, his detective side told him to keep on his toes. With the Joker you always expect the unexpected. This could be a ploy to try to pull a fast one and attack. Either way Batman pulled up a seat beside his unpredictable enemy and watched him reach for the food and began to tear into it. The madman looked like he hasn't had a decent meal in a long time. "My compliments to the chef, this food is way better than the filth they serve at Arkham. And certainly better than Harley's cooking," proclaimed the clown merrily as he then took a bite from the potato wedges.
"Is that why you're rather thin?" asked the knight. The jester looked up with a surprised expression. He didn't think that Batman would actually take the initiative and ask a question. Joker usually had to force him to engage in conversation. He welcomed the sudden change in dynamics the only way he knew how, with a smile.
"Well you'd be skinny too if you saw the shit they serve at the madhouse. Dog food seems more appetizing than that crud and the poor girl tries I know but let's just say she isn't that handy in the kitchen."
Bruce let the madman continue and enjoy his dinner. Once finished he set the plates aside and looked down at the clown who now seemed deep in thought. Before he had the chance to engage the spaced out jester, Joker spoke. "Heh, it's funny… they treat me like an animal in there. But I guess that's how everyone sees me," he said with a sad but solemn smile.
"Maybe it's because you act like one," replied the bat in a callous manner. Joker looked up at him and glared intently.
"You really think I deserve what I get coming to me do you? You think it feels nice to be locked in a cage and fed garbage!? Do you think it's right to be drugged and restrained enough so you can't defend yourself just to get beaten like a fucking dog!? Do you think it's pleasant getting fried from the inside out by electricity!? Oh, tell me that you find all of it sick, because those are the kind of people YOU defend!" screamed the now livid Harlequin of Hate.
Batman stood silent in front of the panting and angry clown. That would explain all the scars and wounds he saw displayed on the jester's pale body. Bruce could see how tortured Joker seemed by his small comment, but deep down he couldn't possibly overlook all the Clown Prince of Crime had done over the years. Especially the things done to him on a personal note, from gun shots to stab wounds and any physical damage in between the madman had done it all. Then there were the events that haunted him at night. The crippling of his former Batgirl, Barbara; the constant torture he put his friend Jim through and the death of Jason, his former Robin. Death and chaos followed him; he was a pestilence to this city. The Joker sat proudly upon a throne over a pile of corpses at the heart of Gotham, this was no man. "You've acted like a monster way longer than the employees at Arkham have been mistreating you. All the murders you committed, all the people you've maimed and all the lives you've destroyed; you deserve every little bit of karma coming back to you, Joker!" shouted Batman. The Joker sat silently; he was a bit caught off by his response. But then again it's to be suspected, who was he really kidding about before? Thinking the bat would care about him. But there was one thing bothering the clown if what the Batman said was true. A smile was now present on the clowns red lips.
"If you mean what you say Batsy, then why did you save me? You could've done this whole blasted world a huge fucking favor by simply letting me bleed out in that alleyway. But you saved me that night my dear delusional Dark Knight, now what I can't figure out is if I deserve 'every bit of karma coming my way' then why did you intervene?" asked the curious jester.
It hardly crossed the Bruce's mind why he had done it. He just reacted and brought Joker to the cave and saved his life. He never could tolerate death, if there was something he could do to prevent it he had to act. He wouldn't be able to live to live with himself if he was directly responsible for someone's death, even if it was his most dangerous and hated enemy. "I don't want anyone's blood on my hands not even yours, Joker."
"Oh Bats, you never could handle death well could you? It's something you can't avoid you know, it's just natural," grinned the Joker.
"Is that what you really believe!? There is nothing natural about murder, death is a natural process but not when you force it with your own bare hands! And that's why people see you as an animal, a monster!" he screamed. This time the Caliph of Clowns remained indifferent, he saw it coming after all. But what really struck a nerve was that his bat really saw him like how every commoner in the cursed city saw him. But this man had a deeper reason than just the clown's ghastly appearance and relentless killing; he was probably going to get beaten for this but hell that's what makes this game fun.
"I know why you call me an animal, it's because I killed your second Boy Blunder isn't it?" That's it, the mention of his greatest failure caused him to grab the Joker by his pale skinny neck and raise him off the bed! Joker began to cough at Batman's immense grip but still managed to smile. "I crippled the commissioner's daughter, shot his wife and plague this city! That's right… kill me! You're the only one – I'll… let…" he managed to say in between being asphyxiated and wheezy laughter.
"SHUT UP JOKER!" screamed Batman as he threw the giggling man with all his might. Joker hit a corner of the cave's wall and crashed on the ground like a ragdoll. He lay motionless on the ground grabbing at his stomach and chuckling softly. Batman ran to him and saw that the stiches must've reopened, because the madman had begun to bleed through his new attire.
"Oh oh Bats… I think – you got me good this time," smiled Joker as he tilted his head back to see what little the mask revealed of the vigilante's eyes. He ran to his computer and pressed a buttoned that signaled Alfred to hurry to the cave, afterwards he went back to Joker, who was barely conscious now. "So, you finally did what everyone told you to do… euthanize the mad dog."
"I didn't do it on purpose!" barked Batman in his defense. Joker knew how to push his buttons and bring out his rage. He leaned close and carried the clown to the medical table, when he set him down he saw Joker's blood on his hands.
"Face it Bats, you want this… I do too. This is how our dance is supposed to end. Not… as glamorous – as I envisioned it but the outcome is the same."
"No…" was all he responded. Why did this man revel in death, even if it was his own!? He didn't want his blood on his hands, though a moment ago he called him the same thing everyone else in the world branded him. Joker is an animal, a monster, a lunatic, a madman and a disease on Gotham, but Bruce still did not wish the sentence of death on this man like everyone else did. It was not his place to be judge, persecutor or jury and certainly not executioner.
"You must be so tired hiding yourself, even in your own cave. Relax... I already know who you are," spoke Joker softly, completely shattering Batman's thought process.
"What – did you say?"
"You heard me… take the mask off… Bruce," he whispered softly as his smile grew smaller.
"How… how did you find out!?" growled Bruce. His whole world was shattered the only thing Joker hasn't defiled was already within his knowledge, the clown knew his identity! Before the jester could answer he closed his eyes and lay silent. At that moment Alfred rushed in the cave's entrance.
"Master Bruce, is everything all right?!" inquired the butler as he stormed in. His eyes lay on the scene and he instinctively hurried to repair the damage his master had caused.
"I didn't mean to do it," spoke softly Bruce as he continued in that moment to stare at his black gloved hands that were stained crimson. He looked so broken and out of place as if he was a child a part of some tragedy. Alfred had seen that expression before; it was the same one he saw when he picked up his young master at the police station after his parents' deaths.
"Are you all right, Master Bruce?" asked the butler as he worked to stop the bleeding.
"He… he knows who I am," whispered softly Bruce not being able to look away from his bloody hands.