Author's Notes: Man this story really has been my main priority lately. I honestly did this for fun but I've been neglecting my own projects like my story Moon's Curse. It's a trilogy about my OC's Raven Nevermore and her half demon love Damien Hawthorne and their battles with forces from the underworld that I've been working on since my sophomore year in high school which was about 5 years ago. Heh, my editor/artist/friend/slave-driver was kind enough to let me take a break from our story in order to write this fanfic. I do really appreciate the support and praise I've been getting; hopefully I can find a balance with these projects so I won't have to delay this one. Anyways, enjoy the story :)

For the past three days Joker did not once regain consciousness. Bruce was really beginning to worry, but his butler ensured that there was no serious trauma and that he was probably resting since he never did naturally sleep. Each day when he was done with board meetings at Wayne Enterprises or attending some charity function he would return to the cave and sit by his sleeping adversary. He would remain there until nightfall when his duty to Gotham would tear him from the unconscious clown's side. Bruce has heard from somewhere that someone in a comatose state was still aware of their surroundings, so he had Alfred bring in a small television. When Batman would leave to do his nightly rounds around the city, he'd turn on the TV to some Bugs Bunny cartoons or the news while he was gone.

Tonight he was going to bring in Harley Quinn back to Arkham. For the last few days he's caught her trail through the whispers of Gotham's underground. He heard that she was hiring a bunch of goons and thugs to comb the city for her lost clown and find him by any means necessary. Bruce didn't like the sound of that; he could tell the sidekick was getting frantic and desperate to find the Joker. He's also heard a bunch of rumors about the Clown Prince's whereabouts, most of them leaking from Arkham. Some were saying that Batman finally snapped and killed the clown and hid his body somewhere so no one would find evidence of his deed. Others say that it's some deal that Warden Sharp and Gotham's police force had going on and they had Joker locked away somewhere for experimentation. Two Face began proudly proclaiming that it was he who shot and killed Joker and that the police just threw the body in the city dump. When no evidence to support any story came through, that's when people's theories got a little farfetched and just silly. Those who believed Two Face thought that maybe the Joker was now a zombie and walked away, that's why a body wasn't found. Other's thought that Joker was a ghost now haunting the walls of the asylum. Were people honestly that dumb? Then again most of those rumors were coming from the madhouse. When it was time for Bruce to leave he donned on his costume and turned on the TV for the clown. "I'll be back soon okay," he said softly. Joker same as before didn't respond. Bruce merely went to the Batmobile and drove out of the cave.

For these last three days Bruce really took what Alfred said to heart and contemplated his feelings towards the Joker. He thought a lot about it and even when his priorities lied elsewhere he still had the jester in the back of his thoughts. It was hard, some things he still wasn't even entirely sure about. He felt that he needed the Joker to fill in some gaps for him. Besides, Bruce wasn't even sure what Joker thought about him. The evidence was there but the detective didn't want to assume anything until he heard it with his own ears directly from the clown's mouth.

"Batman, I've got a lock on Harley Quinn's location. She and a bunch of thugs are at the abandoned LaffCo. Toy Factory at 3rd and Main Street," said Oracle her voice coming from a communication feed, bringing him back to reality and to his current objective.

He heard about reports of excessive foot traffic at the factory from the GCPD and had Oracle look into it. His suspicions paid off, this was where the crazed clown lackey was hold up and gathering support. "Have Nightwing call the police to have them surround the area and for him to meet me on the roof of the factory," ordered Batman.

"All right, I'm on it," responded Oracle as she turned off the connection. He needed to focus, his priority needed to be on work.

"Sheeesh, can't stop thinking about work can you?" he heard the clown's voice in his mind. Not now, all his focus needs to be with bringing Harley back to the asylum. He rushed to an alleyway a few blocks from the factory and grappled to its rooftop to find Nightwing already there.

"How many are inside?" questioned Batman.

"Aside from Harley, probably twenty hired hands for her plan. No sign of the Joker," reported Nightwing. Well that last part was to be expected, Joker hasn't so much open his eyes in three days let alone be out and about in Gotham since he was in the detective's care.

"How long before the police arrive?" demanded the Dark Knight.

"About ten minutes, think it'll be enough time to clean up shop?" said his former ward rhetorically.

"Plenty," replied the bat with a half smirk. The two vigilantes busted through a huge glass window pane that encased the meeting place of Harley Quinn's little search party. Almost immediately the clown themed thugs open fire on the duo. Batman landed on three men and knocked them out. Nightwing sweep kicked two of them and leapt at two more to get their weapons. All the gun men were taken out and their weapons dismantled simultaneously, the rest of the clowns had bats and iron pipes in their clutches. They surrounded the heroes while Harley Quinn stood on a platform confident that her goons could handle two costumed men.

"Damn it Bats! What the hell's wrong with ya! I'm only trying to find my poor lost puddin' and you and Bird Boy took out a good chunk of my guys!" cried the distraught female jester.

"If you're only going to look for the Joker, then why did those men have guns?" questioned Nightwing.

"Well I know this damn city won't take me seriously, so you gotta use force sometimes to get what you want. Whoever gets in my way is gonna get their heads blasted!"

"You know you won't get away with this, all these men are going to Black Gate and you're going back to Arkham," stated Batman as he and Nightwing got into their fighting stances and cautiously eyed the group of goons.

"Not until I find Mistah J!" cried Harley as she gripped the handle of her oversized hammer. Her thugs immediately went on the offensive and charged the two vigilantes. Metal and wood were swung and thrown at the two, but they dodged their aggressive attacks with precision and ease. One by one the muscular henchmen were knocked out with powerful and well landed punches and kicks. Some were tripped by batarangs aimed at their heels while others felt the powerful blow of Nightwing's batons. Batman lost his footing when a guy managed to get a good shot at him with a pipe from behind, Harley took the opportunity to swing her hammer at the Dark Knight's head. He went down and before he could try to stand the harlequin was already over him holding the hammer high above her head. Nightwing was busy holding his own against the remaining guys.

"Give him back! I want Mistah J back!" she cried.

"What are you – talking about?" the detective asked managing to clear his vision after being hit with a hammer that felt like a ton of bricks.

"I've heard the rumors Bat-brain everyone's saying you finally got him and killed him! I want him back you took him away!" she screamed hysterically.

"I didn't. I don't kill and you know it!" argued Batman.

"LIAR!" she let out a shrill yell and was about to bring down the hammer on the bat's head! Suddenly the doors of the factory flung open and Commissioner Gordon and a team of Gotham's finest rushed in, aiming their guns at Harley and her men.

"Freeze! Drop your weapons and put your hands up! You're completely surrounded!" ordered the commissioner.

Harley dropped her weapon and she and the conscious henchmen reluctantly did as they were told, seeing it was hopeless to struggle.

The police arrested the twenty hired thugs and just as they were about to take Harley Quinn away she looked sadly to the Batman. "I was just worried Bats, I haven't heard from him in a while now. It's like he fell off the face of the earth. I don't wanna believe what people are saying, but I gotta know, did ya do it Batman?" she spoke softly, her voice full of sadness.

"No. Don't worry about the Joker, he'll turn up. He always does," he answered. It was rather hard not being able to ease her mind from the Joker. She was utterly devoted to him no matter what abuse he makes her endure. All she wanted was some security that the man she loved and dedicated herself to was still alive.

"Yeah, he always does, do he?" she smiled slightly as she was taken away back to Arkham.

"Have you had any luck locating the Joker?" asked Commissioner Gordon as he approached the vigilante. Bruce had to anchor his thoughts back to work; he looked to Nightwing and the commissioner.

"Not at all," Batman simply responded.

"That sneaky bastard sure is elusive," commented Nightwing.

"I just want that clown back in Arkham; sure will save me a lot of stress in the office and on the streets," replied Gordon.

"We'll let you know if anything on him comes up," added Batman as he and Nightwing left the scene and let the GCDP handle the arrests.

Batman came into the Batcave around ten, the night was young but there was no other big crimes being committed. With Harley Quinn back at Arkham, there were no other asylum patients on the outside, well aside from the Joker. But he was unconscious under Batman's care. When the Batmobile came to a full stop and the bat clad in black came out, pulled off his cowl and cape then he heard a familiar voice greet him.

"Hey Batsy, about time you came home!" called out a high falsetto voice.

Bruce immediately dropped his cape and cowl and rushed over to where he left the sleeping clown. Once there he saw that Joker was wide awake and watching TV. "Joker, are you okay?" he found himself asking.

"Well aside from feeling a bit nauseated and tired I'm peachy keen," smiled tiredly the jester. He saw the concern in his bat's blue eyes and thought to just dismiss it. "Saw you on the news, still got the moves I see. I was a bit worried that you might be rusty since I haven't kept you on your toes for some time now."

"Can we please talk," stated the knight as he turned off the television. Joker began to eye the man suspiciously but again dismissed his rather strange behavior.

"Sure Bats, there was nothing good on anyway, just that damn nosey Vale showing highlight reels of you taking out my little minx and the goons she hired," he chuckled.

Bruce took a seat by the Joker's bedside and stared deeply with his striking blue eyes. The jester looked away unable to meet those eyes, he had a feeling where this conversation was heading. "I want to know, why? Why did you…"

"You want to know why did I beat my head senseless until I bled and into unconsciousness?" Joker finished his question. His bat merely nodded, Joker sighed and was able to meet his concerned gaze. "I couldn't stop thinking of what you said, I wanted to – I just wanted to… prove I wasn't empty," he explained with a sad and lost expression. He let a small smile slip and laughed softly. "I can't remember. Heh, I've said once before that if I was going to have a past I prefer it to be multiple choice. You just made me realize that sometimes I wish that I had an answer key, at least for me. I know the answer is deep inside my head, I just thought I could force it out," he smiled faintly.

"I'm sorry I hurt you, I didn't mean to…"

"You shouldn't be sorry. Own up to what you said. You know that's what bothers me about you Batsy, you do one thing and you doubt yourself. I made you angry and you said some things and I pummeled my head on a door, there is nothing to apologize for," interrupted the jester.

"But I am sorry! I don't want to hurt you anymore!" argued Bruce.

"Why the hell not?! I still hurt you!" screamed back the Joker. Bruce needed to take control of the situation he could feel that both he and Joker were clashing again. He wanted this to stop; he didn't want any more fights with this man.

"Please answer me something Joker, I need to know. I don't want another lie. What do you see between us? I don't understand you," pleaded Bruce unwilling to further his fight and feed his rage.

"You never did. No one does, but you're the closest one. It's hard you know, feeling this way. I'm not even sure I understand this feeling either," replied Joker as he put a hand to his head. The man was broken and seemed so utterly lost; it was something so surreal to Bruce. "I hate you, but at the same time I feel something else. It feels like my heart might stop because it's racing so fast in my chest. I feel warm when we touch when I usually feel so cold by myself. Just you, you're the only one who does this to me, and I don't even know what it is," he admitted.

Bruce then took the prince's hand into his own and held it tightly to show Joker that he was there to console him. "I don't want there to be more fighting between us okay. Can we just talk," said Bruce gingerly. Joker managed to smile a bit, Bruce really liked seeing a normal smile instead of a deranged grin on his face. "I want to try to understand you."

"What's there to understand, I'm just your average crazy homicidal clown who tries his hardest to bring a smile on Gotham's face." he began to joke.

"No, I meant the man behind the clown. It's only fair right, since you know the man behind the bat," said Bruce. Joker was still smiling but his green eyes had a misplaced feeling to them.

"That man is as good as dead Bruce. I don't clearly remember that part of my life," the clown answered.

"Clearly?" questioned the detective.

"You just pick up every little detail of what I say don't you. Well I remember different stories of what my life was like. Some of them are lies while others make a bit sense but I'm not able to discern which is which. Maybe some of those memories hold truth or maybe I fabricated them all, I just don't know," explained Joker. Bruce earnestly felt bad for him, it must be hard not remembering.

"I'm sorry to hear that," apologized Bruce. Joker looked at him and saw that Bruce was disappointed since he couldn't share like his bat did.

"Would you like to hear about what I was dreaming about these last few days while I was in my comatose state?" asked Joker. Bruce looked up with interest and a bit surprised that Joker was willing to open up. "Well I saw a few memories play out a bit clearer than usual. In one memory I was a child with a very abusive father. He would beat me and each time he'd say, "Just wait 'til you're eighteen boy." Mother didn't do a thing when this happened. The day I turned eighteen I knew what was coming and I decided to act first. I took the knife away from mother that she was gonna use to cut my cake and stabbed him eighteen times, I stabbed him for each year of abuse he'd put me through. There's a different scenario I recall, the story went a bit differently. I was a boy with no friends but had an interest in biology. I would catch the neighbors' cats or dogs and mutilate them to better see their insides. I was only happy when I saw their blood rush out and all their organs up close. Mother and father didn't like it one bit and they would scold and beat me, threatening me that they would send me away to the police. I burned them alive and ran away from home at the age of fifteen where I joined a traveling circus. Different stories, there are many more similar and completely different from them, I'm not sure myself."

"Do you by any chance remember something from when before you were the Red Hood?" asked Bruce, still reeling from the rather disturbing childhood memories the clown recalled.

"You mean before I was baptized in the searing chemicals and emerged reborn as the Joker?" asked Joker with a wide grin. Bruce merely nodded. "Well same as my childhood, I remember various stories that led me to our first and fateful dance on the catwalk before my dip in that chemical bath. In one memory I recall being a ruthless gangster with a grand reputation for my skills and temper. I worked my way up from nothing and became the boss of my crime family. I paved my way to the top with bodies and blood, the violence made me happy. One day I had heard chumps using the Red Hood persona to baffle police so I donned that silly red helmet and pulled off a heist at the Ace Chemical Plant. You know the rest of the story from there."

"Do all your stories have violence?" asked the detective already seeing the common theme of violence in the form of murder and abuse.

"There is one that isn't," admitted Joker as he looked away as if he was remembering in that moment.

"How does that story go?" asked Bruce, genuinely interested in hearing the jester's tale.

"I remember a man, who was not happy. He was an overworked chemist who was employed at the chemical plant. He was married to a beautiful woman named Jeanie, who loved him and would always laugh at his jokes. The man was happy with her but not with his life, he felt unfulfilled. He wanted to make people laugh just like he would make Jeanie laugh. He just wanted to brighten people's lives and make them smile. He quit his job to pursue being a comedian. He failed miserably; he and his wife lived a poor life in the slums of Gotham. Struggling to find any money to support his now pregnant wife, he got in deep with the mob. Two greedy men forced the poor sucker to do bad. When he had enough and wanted to stop for the sake of his beloved Jeanie and their baby, they twisted his arm and just asked for one more gig at the chemical plant. That night the man lost his wife and the baby. The police said it was an accident, a baby bottle overheated on the stove and exploded. He lost his only happiness and agreed to help the greedy men get into his old place of employment. That man put on the Red Hood disguise and well same as before, you know how the story goes from there," explained Joker with those same lost eyes but this time his smile was gone from his lips.

Bruce was just at a loss of words. This story was so different from the ones before. It was about a man dealt a bad hand at life and lost his whole family in one night. A devoted husband, a soon to be father, it just seemed so tragic. There was one thing that bothered Bruce; he wanted a name to connect. "Do you remember your name?"

"No. Names are the same as my memories, different and never the same," stated the Joker.

"Did that man from that story have a name?" asked Bruce.

"Oh, Brucey. You'd like to believe that was me right, it's just a story you know. It doesn't change the clown that I am now," responded Joker coming back to reality and remembering his playful self.

"You know my name; I just thought it would be nice to have something to call you aside from the Joker," admitted Bruce. There was a small silence between them; the Clown Prince couldn't bear to leave his Dark knight dissatisfied.

"Jack." he said simply.

"Jack? Jack…" Bruce was trying the name. It had a strange feeling letting such a simple name pass his lips. "That name sounds good for you," complimented the billionaire.

"Well I'm not sure if it was that man's name, it's just a name Bruce it doesn't change a thing. But if it makes you happy you can call me that, only you," the pale man smiled.

"All right Jack," the man in black was faintly smiling as well. The newly named Jack took note that the mood in his usually serious bat had changed. He couldn't help but let his smile widen and not to the famed contorted grin that symbolized death for others, but it was one of genuine joy. There was a slight pause between the two; in that moment Bruce remembered the kiss they shared days ago. He recalled how the smiling man took initiative and planted his red lips on his. In all honesty he wanted an answer for that action but deemed words would ruin their bonding. Instead he decided to test how he felt about kissing those lips again; he leaned in and pecked the clown on the lips, when he pulled away he saw that Jack was staring in disbelief, placing a hand to his lips.

"Wha- what was that?" he asked, seeming way less confident than his usual self. Bruce started to fall back into doubt as he felt his face blush.

"I'm sorry did you not…"

"No, you just – caught me by surprise is all," he answered. He began to laugh a bit seeing Bruce revert to his doubtful tendencies after making such a bold move. "You could've given me a heads up. I really doubt my breath is minty fresh and my smell that of a field of roses right now, my dear bat."

"I don't mind," stated Bruce. The jester merely scoffed and brushed off the billionaire with a smile.

"Sheeesh, don't get all sappy on me Brucey. You should head off to bed now; you got quite the busy life Mr. Wayne."

"All right." Said Bruce as he rose from his sitting place and began to walk off. He turned and saw that Jack was lying back down to try to sleep. "Hey, I really enjoyed our talk, Jack. I trust you outside your cell, so please don't wander off."

"Well I'm not in much condition to really do that. My head spins trying to stay up let alone stand so no worries there Brucey. And I liked talking to you too, hopefully we get to do it again when you're not so busy," smiled Jack.

"I look forward to it," smiled back Bruce. As he ascended the steps back to the manor he felt a little amazed of what occurred between him and Jack. Bruce began to feel that his wish to rehabilitate Gotham's Clown Prince of Crime wasn't so out of reach after all.