Well, here we have it. The end. The Author's Note will appear in a few days.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Dark Knight, only this plot.

Chapter 55: Batsy (End)

We change into our "street clothes" as quickly as possible, and leave our sequined getups piled on stage.

"Oh-kay," Joker says, taking his "calling card" out of the pocket of his purple coat and dropping it on the stage. I place mine beside it, marveling at the way they fit together.

"C'mon, Batsy, we've gotta get goin'!" Joker is already leaping off the stage. "It'd take the, ah, fun out of it if we got caught, right?"

I follow him, barely bothering to look at the empty seats around us—Boss Boy is already packing up the camera and the recorder. I brush my hands across the seats—scratchy wool tickling the my palms.

In only a few moments, the boys are packing into cars, high-fiving each other and laughing fit to burst. Joker isn't running now. He's striding toward our car of the evening, a nondescript van. He unlocks it, hops in, and I climb in beside him. We take off, with the boys behind us.

I poke my head out the window and watch the black helicopter as it chops away, with the Mobsters in tow. I can just see them struggling in there. I close my eyes and let the wind go through my hair. It's a wonderful feeling, this feeling of freedom.

It feels like white noise.

"Hey, Batsy, look!"

I watch as several police cars come zooming down the road all around us, heading to the old theatre. I see the glimmer of glasses and a salt-and-pepper mustache. Inspired, I wave as they drive by, adrenaline coursing through my veins. The white noise crackles through my mind, like a old record.

I watch as all of Gotham swerves by us, the lights blending into one solid strip of gold and blue and red and orange, and the cars rush by, and I can hear people talking and laughing and screaming and fighting in the distance, and it is good.

I reach out a hand, and the wind smacks it around, but I don't care. Joker laughs gleefully as I shake my head in the wind, breathing in the smoggy warm air in big gulps, as if I was drowning before this moment.

I guess in a way I was.

I settle myself back into the van, but keep the window open just in case.

Joker suddenly giggles, and I peer back inside to look at him. His eyes are on the road, but his shoulders are shaking. Finally, he lets out a roar of laughter, accidentally slapping the horn and sending a little lady driver into hysterics.

"Oh, Batsy. Oh, you ah-maz-ing little minx. You gave 'em the keys! Y'know, if nothing else, we at least gave them someone to eat. I just wish I could see Bertineli turn to the others and ask 'What's eatin' you?' Bertineli, with his belly grumblin', down to his last gangster…!"

"I'm glad you're so pleased," I say with a hint of sarcasm, waving to the little old lady as she putters off. "Call it reinforcing an old lesson someone taught me."

Joker snorts and chuckles and becomes illuminated in red light. His kohl is running slightly as tears of glee run down his face. His eyes are on fire with pure joy and triumph, and I can feel my expression is exactly the same.

"Though you know, I'm curious as to what that remaining Mobster is going to do with all his free time…" I rub my chin thoughtfully.

Joker shrugs and drums his fingers on the wheel, waiting for the green light. "Who knows? Maybe he'll, ah, make a getaway?"

I shake my head and watch the other cars and the drivers. Some drivers are businessmen, some are lawyers, some are limos or sports cars filled with my old socialite "friends". The metal frames gleam in the city lights, jewels on Lady Gotham's crown. And here we are, the crown jewel, cracked and dusty, but real, unlike the other plastic gems in her crown.

"Uh, Batsy? Heeeeey…something, ah, caught your eye?"

I suddenly realize I've been staring at the purple curl of Joker's gloved hands on the wheel. "It's nothing."

"A pretty…intense nothing, I'd say," Joker purrs, turning away from the traffic light (still red) and focusing his attention on me.

I chuckle and absently run my hands through his hair, my fingers catching in the tangles. "You should keep your eyes on the road," I warn him.

"The road's not…leaving any time soon."

Joker looks slyly at me, the red of the traffic light emphasizing the scars on his face.

"Y'know, Batsy, you and I just successfully rid ourselves—and Gotham—of this, ah, fair city's biggest schemers. I say we…party!"

"True," I mutter, curling my arm around his shoulder.

Joker seems to hesitate. "Ah…one question, Batsy. Who says that, ah, shipment of fat cats won't just…call for help?"

"They can't. They have no phones." I raise an eyebrow. "But Schiff does. And soon, Schiff is going to be sending them all to Gordon."

"Ooooh…and these phones are gonna have all their, ah, contacts, aren't they?"

"Yes."

"Whoops," Joker says, mischief coating his voice. "Green light—gotta go!"

I lurch back in my seat as we zoom off again, Joker cackling merrily.

"Do you want to give me a heart attack?" I growl, as Joker's laughter cools down to a scattered burst of giggles.

"'Course not," he replies, patting me on the back. "What would I do with the body?"

I roll my eyes. "You have a twisted sense of humor. I'm sure you'd think of something."

Joker snorts. "True. Anyway, I have something…special planned for our celebration. And by the by, it doesn't involve ruining this car. There's a pretty little charter plane waiting for us at the airport."

I almost can't believe what I'm hearing. "Where to?"

Joker grins and pulls out a ragged, taped-up map out of the glove compartment. "Close your eyes…and point."

I do as he says, feeling the map cave in slightly as I press my finger into… "Wales," I tell him, leaning back in my seat. "Sound good to you?"

"Mm-hmmm," Joker replies, unbuttoning a few buttons on his waistcoat—to let the night air in. Or as a not-very-subtle seduction tactic. "Don't worry—we'll find some things to do on the way there. It is First Class, after all…"

"Sounds nice," I say, once again watching the cars go by. "But what about Jack and the boys?"

Joker laughs. "That…is where Schiffy comes in." Joker cocks his head to one side, expression thoughtful. "You know, I was thinking of him as more of a…butler."

"An Alfred Jr.?"

"Maaaaybe."

We continue driving in silence, the minutes ticking by: 2:50…2:51…2:52…2:53…2:54…

Just before we reach the airport, I curl my arm around Joker's waist, my fingers drumming against his hip. He snickers, but nothing else.

I wonder if I should tell him about that dream with the hearts, if it really matters right now. I look at Joker's giddy expression as first light slowly turns to dawn. His green-brown hair catches the light, taking on a golden tint. He turns and looks at me, a glint in his eyes, and I know the dream can wait.

"Say…Batsy. Have you ever, ah, cracked a safe before?"

"Not that I can remember, no. Why?"

Joker grins in the rearview mirror. "Oh, nothing. Just a new, ah, game I have in mind."

"Tell me on the plane…" I adjust my arm on his shoulder. "…After we 'find some things to do', as you put it. And food."

Joker cackles. "Only a pair of freaks like us would be hungry after that little show. But I did take the liberty of stocking the plane with some pies from Betty's."

I put my head out the window again, breathing in the early morning air. "We wouldn't have it any other way, would we?" I watch as dawn tints the city of Gotham, causing the buildings to gleam with hope, and the street lights to gutter and die quick deaths.

Joker looks sideways at me, his whole body relaxed. "'Course not."

FINIS