Disclaimer: I don't own The Dark Knight, The Moody Blues or The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde. I do own the Gemini club and the two girl characters.

Chapter Thirty-Nine: Bruce


When I get home, Alfred is waiting for me, watching the news.

"I'm pleased to note that you did not make the news today, Master Bruce," Alfred informs me, a small smile on his face. "As such, I trust your evening went smoothly?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle." I take off my coat and sit down beside him in front of the TV. "And I managed a winter hat or two out of the bargain."

Alfred gives me a warning look I haven't seen in awhile. "You'll have to give him a present as a thank-you."

I sigh and run a hand through my hair. "I'm working on it."

"I'll assist if necessary, sir. The hats are hand-made, I assume?" Alfred takes a look at the hats, his expression thoughtful. "He even made a small "J" on them. Quaint."

"And totally unexpected." I rub my temples, sighing. "Why, Alfred? Why does he go through this much trouble just to tick me off?"

Alfred chuckles. "If I may say so, sir, I think you're both past that particular stage in your 'careers'."

"Then what's left?"

Alfred gazes at me thoughtfully. "That, sir, is a choice entirely up to 'Mr. J' and yourself." He looks down at my hands, and with embarrassment I see the faint red outline from the compression of Joker's suspenders on my wrist. "I believe, Master Bruce, that you may need to do something about that before you go out."

I pull my sleeve down and nod. "Yeah. Yeah…I'll do that."

There is an uncomfortable silence.

Alfred clears his throat. "Mr. Fico Maroni called. He requested I tell you to…'watch your back', as he put it. It seems that 'going legit' is not his first priority."

"That's to be expected." I sit down and stare at the TV for a moment, not really focusing. "I knew this wouldn't be easy, and I haven't given up yet. Gotham will be free of crime—by my hands, whether I'm wearing a mask or not."

"Very good, sir." Alfred stands up slowly and yawns politely. "Do you have any other plans for today?"

"Not really," I reply, stretching. "Maybe I'll go to a club…or something. I haven't done that in awhile."

Alfred nods. "Very well, Master Bruce. But before that, I have a Christmas present for you."

"You really didn't have to, Alfred—" I begin, but Alfred is already chuckling good-naturedly and revealing a small carefully wrapped box from behind his chair.

"You say that every year, and yet every year it's exactly what you want."

I open the present and find a CD titled Moody Blues: Greatest Hits. Underneath the CD is The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde—one of my favorite books that was lost in the fire two years ago.

I look up at Alfred and smile. "Thank you, Alfred. What would I do without you?"

Alfred smiles back. "Something productive to your health, I hope, Master Bruce."

I think about asking if Lucius brought anything, but once again Alfred's one step ahead of me.

"Lucius is awaiting any requests you have. I hope you don't mind, sir, but I informed him of your meeting with the Mob, and…"

"And about Joker?" I tense up automatically.

Alfred shakes his head. "Well, not really. Just that your private life is becoming rather…complicated. More so than usual, that is."

"Ha-ha. Has a Wayne's life ever been simple?"

"Not that I know of, sir. But I do know that the Wayne family wouldn't have it any other way."

"Good point."

"Apparently Lucius is vacationing in San Francisco at the moment," Alfred informs me. "A card is in order."

"Yes." I stand up, still holding Alfred's gifts. "Thank you, Alfred."

"Always a pleasure, sir." Alfred smiles.

--

When I arrive at the Gemini Club with a girl whose name I don't remember, I'm surprised at how full it is.

The strobe lights are flashingin an array of colors, illuminating the dancers' writhing bodies. You can barely hear yourself think over the noise of synthesizers and raw, coarse words. The tables are clean, thankfully, so my blonde date and I sit comfortably near the dance floor, drinking martinis (I only pretend to, of course—no more hangovers, please). You can smell the sweat and the musk from the dancers everywhere you go—and several people are "mysteriously" disappearing to more private places.

This is not one of my favorite clubs, but it will have to do.

"Do you want to dance?" my date yells over the music. "This is a good song!"

Unfortunately, I have to—Bruce Wayne The Playboy loves to "party down"—but not yet.

"Let's wait for awhile," I reply loudly, giving her a reassuring a smile. "It's a bit too crowded!"

I'm just about to go back to my martini when I see him.

Joker—wearing a leather jacket, leather pants and a large, mocking gold "J" around his neck—is dancing with a brunette in clothing no intelligent person would wear in the dead of winter. She's trying to grind against him like the other dancers, but he keeps stepping back, mockingly, then joining her again. He isn't wearing his war paint—his scars are covered by makeup and latex—but unfortunately I can recognize him all-too-well now.

"I know that girl," my date shrieks excitedly. "Her father owns a European toy factory!"

Why does that not surprise me?

Joker's eyes lock on me, and he suddenly pulls the girl into a dip. The girl's hands reach up to his shoulders, and she tries to press her body close to his. She doesn't succeed—he lifts her up and breaks away, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. His caring expression is as false as the clothes he wears.

He takes her by the arm and tries to teach her the Jitterbug—but she doesn't want to do that. She laughs, and I wonder exactly what his point is. It's clear they don't have anything in common…

I suddenly feel very uncomfortable. My date, sensing my discomfort, leans over and kisses me—out of jealousy, I think. She tastes like her neon-pink lipstick…and suddenly I'm reminded of another pair of lips, blood red…

I break away, and my date looks at me suspiciously. "You don't like me?" she whines.

"I'm sorry," I say, feeling sick. "Why don't we go somewhere else?"

Joker is still dancing, but his expression shows he's less than thrilled. She's still trying to grind against him, but he's holding her at arm's length, giving her a dark look that has nothing to do with desire.

"No," I see his lips move, and the girl is getting angry. She slaps him and walks away.

He turns to look at me, shrugs, and looks around the club. Clearly finding no one of interest, he heads toward the door. Men and women turn to look at him, but Joker doesn't even glance at them. Soon, he's vanished outside.

"Well?" my date asks irritably, and suddenly I understand why Joker was here in the first place.

It was his little way of saying, once again, that he and I are not likeeveryone else…and that is all right, in his eyes.

I'm not too sure about what my thoughts on the matter are, but I have an image to maintain.

For the second time in two days, I wish I didn't have to.

"Wait," I say, touching her cheek. "I'll be back. I just…need to get some air."

Thankfully, she doesn't know me well enough to suspect anything.

As soon as I enter the cold Gotham night, I see Joker close by, whistling one of the pop hits from the club. He catches my eye and walks toward me, a lazy grin on his face.

"Well hiiiiiiiiiiiii there," Joker purrs, standing beside me, his shoulder brushing against mine. "Did you like my, ah, dance routine back there?"

"I'm just glad the girl is safe."

"I thought you would." Joker yawns and stretches, long fingers entwined above his head. "Now, why'd you leave that little bombshell on the lurch?" The smug grin on his face tells me he already has a hunch.

"I just wanted to say…thanks. For the gifts."

Joker rolls his eyes in my direction, his expression still smug. "…Aaaand you want to know what I want for Christmas. To repay me."

I sigh irritably. "Yes. But nothing lethal."

Joker shrugs and rocks back on his heels. "Good question." His pink tongue runs over his scars languidly. "I mean, technically I already got what I wanted, but…"

"But?" I raise an eyebrow.

Joker giggles and turns to walk away. "…I really doubt it'd be, ah, up your alley. See ya."

I'm left with a whiny, insipid date and a far-too-long night ahead.