Hello, I'm very sorry it took a while to update this! I know a lot of you are reading it and reviewing (Thanks so much!) And I hope you readers return to this story as well as new readers. I have the entire thing set in my head, only problem is to write it all down—which is happening, aside from taking notes in my classes. Can you believe I'm 19 now?! When I started out I was about 14... wow. lol.

NOTE: In this story, Jim Gordon knows Batman's true identity, learning after the Dark Knight, which also helps protect Bruce Wayne as a 'suspect'. Otherwise, that is the only thing that has changed about the plot of BB/TDK. No actual Joker in this chapter… actually no Joker for perhaps the rest of the story, but don't let that stop you. You still see him… in a different aspect.

Warning: Each chapter will have a new warning, as to not spoil for the rest of the story. Like any good read, you want the reader to keep guessing. The warning here is a little OOC-ness, swearing, and violence. Otherwise, clean chapter.

R&R, please! And also I do not own any of the Batman characters whatsoever.

And here… we…go!

"Joker…how did you escape from Arkham?"

Bruce Wayne was starting to lose his temper; he had dealt with all this bullshit before and the Joker refused to listen to anything he ever said. I guess I should be used to people not even giving me an answer; after all you are a dick. He contemplated inside his head, not taking his eyes off of the Joker. They shared the same poisonous gaze that sent a subtle shiver down the Bat's back. He ignored it, hoping possibly that the two brutes did not catch it. During the staring contest, Batman examined the clown from head to toe after not seeing him since the engagement looking over Cape Carmine. The mad man's appearance had changed, and Bruce took account of how much smaller the clown looked, almost like a starving child. In previous battles, the Joker was more difficult to fight, nearly matching his own weight minus the Kevlar costume. It took more effort to push him around, but now the Joker was as light as a woman. It seemed as if even a mild gust of wind could knock him off of his feet.

The painted menace sneered at the Batman and ignored the questions, looking up and around. They were like fog, rolling in so suddenly and quietly that the Joker had no time to even make a quick escape. Well, the helicopter was not so invisible. The chopping sound of the blades echoed above their heads and the wind blew the Joker's green hair around as it tangled even more. They surrounded everything; SWAT closed off the entrances to the alleyway, trapping them there, and police cruisers were probably armed within a mile radius. Fuck. He swallowed the lump in his throat, ignoring the metallic taste of blood trickling into his stomach. He knew, oh he knew that he was only moments from being caught.

But where the hell was Crane? The man seemed to have disappeared into thin air. He probably ran off after Batman kicked his ass, the Joker thought. The doctor was not very noble, and instead of chasing after his enemy or encouraging a fight, he ran for it. Come to think of it, 'Scarecrow' seemed to be quite perturbed by bats. Who's afraid of the big, black bat?

He-he-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!

"What was the point of escaping Arkham?"

The prey looked around now realizing that his henchmen and both Crane had left him for the pigs. But he was the Joker! The painted menace was a far cry from those weaklings, no. No, he would not even speculate that he was human. He had no fear, ha! What a joke. "The next step for you is a padded room. A fair retribution to you criminally insane." The Joker's cold eyes snapped up and matched the Batman's.

"No, I'm not." He accented the last syllable with a little hiss. At least, even in his craziest moments, he still retained the cynical speech. It almost comforted Bruce, knowing that the Joker was the same maniac as before.

"Drop your weapon!"

One of the men in the helicopter called down at the villain, his voice amped by a megaphone. The Joker looked up; trying to see who was yelling at him, but the light they shone prevented him from seeing anything but the propeller blades. Might as well obey, it's just a knife. He raised his knife hand, and showed it to the SWAT and helicopter club, then let it drop to the concrete with a 'clink'.

The world seemed to freeze for the Gotham City Police Department and SWAT. Bruce stared at the Joker, examining his every move, as he slowly licked his painted lips. The Joker and Batman shared eye contact, both watching intently.

Yeah, yeah… keep staring, Batman. Do my eyes scare you?

And his lips curled into a bloody smile.

He yanked up his finger, a ring and little string attached to it, as his left coat wing opened…presenting the dozens of grenades hanging like ornaments from the pinkish lining of his trench coat. Each grenade pin shared the string—the lifeline, up to the Joker's finger. Like robots, each gun was pointed right towards him, cocked, and ready to fire.

Bruce's lips parted as he was surprised by the motion. He could feel his back stiffen and held his breath. Sure the Joker was insane, but was he really crazy enough to blow himself up as well as the rest of them? What went on inside that man's mind; was he really a psychopath or did he have a motive aside from being a suicide bomber? The Joker surely did not want to die at the hands of the police, or his very enemy—Batman himself.

Joker…

Bruce watched impatiently, almost afraid for the Joker's life. Come on, Bruce. Chill out, he's killed so many people, including... He tightened his expression. He deserves the worst, even to die. Let him kill himself and rid you of the job. Let him kill himself, set us free. Let this madness please end…

A violet clad hand groped a small article, and provided that it was camouflaged in the same pigment as the glove. He smiled wickedly revealing the sociopath he was previously through grimy, blood stained teeth. He teased the thread on his finger, threatening those surrounding him. In the Joker's other hand, he gripped the leather sac, about the size of a golf ball, and as he moved his arm to his side, he let it fall to the ground silently. His red lips moved quickly and whispered, counting. 3…2…

Fzzzzz the mauve sac spewed out billows of white smoke, immediately covering a ten foot diameter around the Joker within seconds as he disappeared into the fog. His finger yanked on the pin the second the squad opened fire, explosions erupted around the entire premises. Fire, smoke, and gunshots sang in a perfect melody of onslaught. The area was a scene of absolute chaos; there was a shooting squad, G206 aircraft superintending the area for any of the Joker's mutts rummaging around, and there stood the dark vigilante.

Bruce Wayne stepped backwards, afraid for what he was to see when the gases dissipated. His distance from the Joker had been enough to protect him from the first waves of expired gunpowder and smoke.

"Hold fire!" The sergeant held out his arm to silence his men, staring down into the fading smoke. There were shards of glass, debris from the grenades and shells littering the asphalt from where the Joker stood. The only trace left of the Joker was a puddle of blood on the ground, glimmering in the streetlights above.

They shot him. Bruce immediately knew; it was imminent, and he licked his dry lips.

The eyes turned to him.

And as soon as the Batman had entered the alley, he was gone into the dark night.

Gotham City, Wayne Penthouse

Thursday, September 25

Pit-pat

Pit-pat

Pit-pat

The billionaire stirred within his bed, fit for a king, and rolled around in the heavy silken sheets. He sighed in content; it was the first actual sleep he had gotten after the abrupt change of events that had occurred the past few days. There had been nightmares that racked his mind at night. He could see the carnage the Joker had committed to, the victims with the undeviating smiles etched onto their faces to match his own scars.

After each episode of waking up with a cold sweat, he would stride to the kitchen and fix himself a cup of coffee- the only thing that could settle his irrational mind. Bruce was always careful not to wake his guardian Alfred Pennyworth, or worry the poor old man. That old friend already had to deal with Bruce Wayne, from his troubled childhood, his experimenting with drugs in high school, and his part-time job as the Caped Crusader. Even through all the trouble it took him, Alfred always tried to protect him in any way that he could

But Bruce was a grown man now, head of his family's enterprise. The only person who could possibly protect him was the Batman.

He slept very well, though. Gaining a good six hours of sleep was incredible compared to his nocturnal 'bat' habit. Ha. Considering the Joker had escaped from Arkham and already wreaked havoc on the city, Bruce felt as if he should not worry.

But why?

Is it because I don't care?

He mentally questioned his own thoughts, still trapped within his slumbering self. The Joker was still out there, doing hell knows what. He was probably raiding the Gotham City Zoo for all he knew; Bruce smiled subconsciously.

Or maybe catering to a little kid's birthday party. Stupid clown.

At that thought, his dark weak eyes pried open, instantly noting that the room was lacking its natural sun-lit presence. As his senses came to, he could see out his window-and hear- the rain coming down in heavy droplets over Gotham.

Thank god I wasn't coming home in that last night.

He remarked to himself; after the showdown in the alley way, Batman became the target and was the wanted man. There were times when he wished he had not taken the responsibility of the deaths caused by the recently departed district attorney. He knew he could run, but for how long? The Joker was back and Bruce sincerely believed he was the only one who could match the fighting capabilities. Gotham Police Department made that somewhat more difficult, though…

Bruce turned onto his side, staring into the hundreds of fibers that made up his pillowcase and began gnawing on it as he used to as a child.

I wonder what the Joker is up to…

Certainly he sleeps, he always has so much energy.

What does he even do when he's not ripping off mob dealers and blowing up buildings? He just has to have a life aside from anarchy; or is he really that insane?

He looked past the pillow he was eating and stared at the old clock on his bed stand. 8:43 AM. He groaned. Okay, so that was 4 hours of sleep…

Bruce pondered about turning back over and pulling the sheets over his head to catch some more sleep, but the little voice in his head reminded him. Alfred is probably going to knock on my door any minute now, anyways. And I have to get to Wayne Enterprises sometime today to discuss the new trades with Chicago.

"Ugh…" He groaned out loud and pulled himself up into a sitting position, rubbing the sides of his face to help himself wake up. Today was going to be a long day.

He snaked out of bed, making his way to the pristine bathroom only feet away. Boy, did he have to take a leak. The cold marble on the floor was enough to make him flinch, still drowsy from the lack of sleep and night before. Subconsciously he attempted to pull his pajama bottoms over his feet to help protect them from the evil, cold floor. He stood over the toilet, staring out the double paned window at his head level, looking out onto the foggy streets of downtown Gotham.

Those were the kinds of days where Bruce had no motivation to do anything else except sit in his bed and read, or watch some old Disney movies. Come to think of it. When was the last time I ever did that? He sighed to himself as he let loose in the friendly commode. You work too much, Bruce. Why not just take a break from all of this once Wayne Manor is refurbished? He shook his head.

The Joker.

Ah, yes. The very reason he is stuck in all these damned positions, forced to run from the law as well as trying to protect it. Once he is taken care of, I'll fucking… He trailed off in his own thoughts, coming face to face with the Joker's grin imprinted into his mind.

"Fuck you."

He told nobody in particular, looking to his left where he saw the sparkling, inviting shower staring right at him. He pondered, and finished with the toilet by giving it a courteous flush. Jesus, when was the last time he took a shower? The Bat-suit made him sweat and feel unclean after a night of combat and galloping around all Gotham, Bruce felt disgusting.

Not bothering to even close the bathroom door, he stripped himself of his shirt and leggings, tossing them in the nearest corner-behind the toilet. His plaid boxers were next and lay alone on the marble tiles. He reached into the shower, twisting the knobs to warm up.

This is going to feel amazing…

And Bruce was right. After scrubbing each grain of dirt and salty shimmer on his skin off, he felt wonderful and more prepared for the day he was not expecting…

He found his spot again in bed, instantly greeted by the warmth of the covers waiting for their 'master' to return. The coolness of his damp hair helped him relax within the two temperatures, finding that perfect place to aid in his doze.

"Master Wayne!"

Great.

Bruce Wayne raised his head from out of the covers to glare at the intercom on the other side of his bedroom, where Alfred was calling him. At least let me catch another hour before I deal with whatevers… Sigh. That British man was most likely on his way up to Bruce's bedroom by this time, determined to get the kid up and awake.

He probably heard the shower. God, Wayne, you couldn't have been more subtle about your actions.

Then there was the muffled thumping on Bruce's bedroom door.

"Yeah?"

"Master Wayne, are you appropriate?"

Bruce took this as his cue to crawl out of bed a second time, and stood up to brush off his wrinkled clothes. "Yep." He repeated, and immediately the door squeaked open with Alfred standing in the doorway, with a ghost-like, and somewhat… jubilant expression. He was overwhelmed with something, and this instantly put Bruce on the tips of his toes.

"What is it?"

Alfred Pennyworth was not one to laugh at someone's dismay or feel jealous at another's fortune, but something was obviously ticking the man. He presented a cell phone to Bruce, as the billionaire walked over—clueless.

He stared down at Alfred's phone, and back up to meet the blue eyes glazed with excitement as a smile crept onto the old man's face. "What's wrong?"

"Something you will have to hear for yourself, sir."

Bruce looked at the screen; the phone was in the middle of a call, and lifted the phone shakily to his ear, ready to hear the news. "Hello?"

He was greeted by Jim Gordon's voice, sounding the same as Alfred—with exhilaration and an unbelievable tone. Bruce only needed to hear those few words in order to share the equivalent astonishment.

"We got him, Bruce."

----------

It did not take much explaining to know what Commissioner Gordon was talking about. Though, Bruce was almost in a state of shock; the thought could not be comprehended in his mind. The masked man that had been terrorizing Gotham's streets for the past few months was finally recaptured, and in holding. Hopefully this time, he would not escape and be under constant surveillance.

They captured the Joker.

The thought repeated itself in Bruce's head as he sat in the back of the limousine driven by Alfred. He almost felt a hint of jealousy of Gordon, even though the man himself did not track down the clown and snatch him off of his feet. He almost felt as if he had captured the Joker, Batman would no longer have to run.

Shut up.

It was for Dent's own good. Don't… be a hero.

He stared out the window, the rain flowing down the glass in a horizontal manner. Huh, it's almost like the way blood flows. He blinked, realizing what he had thought of and shook his head cursing at himself. What the hell did he just think of?

And then…

They passed the Gotham Police Department.

Bruce watched it pass his peripheral vision and back to Alfred in the driver's seat. "Alfred, I don't mean to be rude, but you passed GPD."

"I'm afraid our appointment is not at the GPD, Master Wayne."

"Then wh--"

"I suggest moving your eyes to the other side of the vehicle."

Bruce did so—his mouth dropped open, confused as to why they were here of all places.

Why the hospital?

So I kind of wanted to keep adding to this chapter, but I realized that if I did it would be very rushed and not enough time to actually get into the characters. So eh, what the hell. I already started the next chapter and halfway through, so it will be up sooner than about a year. LOL Jeez, well I'm back in the fanfiction mode, and it wont take long to finish this story! Yes, it has an ending. Dont all stories? Well, no... some dont... some people make you read and read and read and leave you on a cliffhanger and never update ever again. Aint that a bitch?

If you like it, please review and tell me what you like or dont like about it; I'm not going to come at you and attack. Feedback is awesome.

R&R!!!

Love ya guys!

Ididntdoit07