Author: Co-written by Jay Narra & Liana Kerzner
Rating: R
Pairing: Batman/Joker
Fandom: Think "The Killing Joke," & "Arkham Asylum." Mildly BTAS. Some point after the comic "Death In The Family."
Feedback: Definitely! Appreciated!
Archive: Yes, certainly! Just let me know it's there!
Disclaimer: Batman & Joker are (c) DC! Not mine!
Summary: Awww... bonding. :)
The Game We Play, Chapter 15 - Caught In A Whirlpool
Co-written by Jay Narra & Liana Kerzner
Batman had just enough time to realize that the Joker had gotten the better of him again before falling backward into the bathtub. His lower back hit the tap on the way down and he gritted his teeth against the pain. He sat very still, waiting for the pain to subside, knowing that it wouldn't anytime soon.
Joker was laughing and spitting up water, happy with himself for the moment. He had finally succeeded in do - *What's this?* he interrupted himself mentally. "Are you alright?" he asked softly, his smile vanishing completely. Scooting forward, he sat up on his knees.
Batman didn't say anything. He was too busy gritting his teeth and inwardly berating himself for being a party to a bad slapstick routine.
"Batsy, dearest?" Joker reached out and dared a quick poke to the forehead. "I asked you a question. C'mon... I've shot you several times, now. You can handle a little bump, right?" He scooted closer, again... but his eyes weren't malicious. They were concerned.
"Back. . . broken. . . Didn't. . . heal right. . . Weak spot." Batman's hands dug like claws at the sides of the tub as another spasm tore at his back.
Joker's eyes went wide, filled with horror as the realization struck him. The Bat was really hurting, and it was his fault. "Weak spot? When did this happen?" he asked, reaching forward... to do what? He paused with his hands in the air, unsure of what he'd been moving to do. It wasn't like him to give a shit about anyone but himself, and he was mildly surprised to see his arms outstretched in front of him.
He knew he cared about Batman... but to get so worried?
The clown moved to pull back, but then stopped again when he caught the look of pain on the other man's face. "Don't hurt," he pleaded softly, sitting down at Batman's right side. He hesitantly reached underwater to touch the spot he assumed was in pain, spreading his fingers over the area.
"Don't." Batman snapped. "Just. . . give me a minute." After taking a moment to grind his teeth against renewed agony, he managed to spit out, "Bane."
Joker backed off, laying his hands in his lap to avoid further upsetting Batman. He watched carefully, and then repeated, "Bane?" ...*Bane did this?* A rage trickled into his mood and built up slowly. "Is that why you went missing for so long? You didn't think I wouldn't notice, did you?" He snarled and clenched his fists, swearing mentally that if he lived long enough, he would have the bastard's head on a platter.
Batman nodded. "Eventual replacement. . . Mistake. . . Had to come back."
If he'd been thinking, he wouldn't have said that, but the momentary distractions helped, even though it hurt to talk.
Joker fell silent, mulling over Batman's words. He had been planning on letting that idiot replace him? He'd been willing to just give up his crusade? Joker felt cheated, somehow. He moved away a little and leaned on the tub.
"Had to relearn everything. . . broken. . . spirit broken. . . not like you. . . my fault. . ." Batman groaned. The waves of pain were lessening, but the longer they continued, the harder it was to
cope.
"The Bat can't BE broken," Joker responded without thinking. "Or you wouldn't be here right now. The Bat was merely licking his wounds." He decided he didn't really care if he was hit for it, and closed the space between them.
"You did it." Batman replied gravely. The pain had diminished to a managable level, and he set about trying to catch his breath.
Those three simple words struck Joker hard, and left him with mingled feelings over the subject. "If that's so... then I fixed you, as well." He wanted so much to relive the night at Arkham... to
rewind to when Batman had been so vulnerable. It had been exhilerating and terrifying all at once. Joker sighed and leaned forward, nestling his head against Batman's shoulder. "I don't think
it was such a bad thing for you to have experienced. I like you better, now."
"Maybe." Batman said, looking down at the Joker's head. He normally would have shoved him away, but he couldn't move quite yet.
Joker reached out and batted at the bubbles for a while, completely forgetting that he was supposed to be washing himself. "So..." He started building a mountain, dripping the bubbles off of his fingertips onto the 'peak'. "Just how many Robins do you go through in a week, anyway?"
Batman growled.
"What was that? Ten?" Joker giggled and shifted against the Bat.
"Stop it." The mood in the room turned to ice.
"Nu-uh." Joker pushed the tower of bubbles over and continued with, "Do you keep them around your house? Is it kinda like a kiddie center... only where they fight crime instead of being adopted?" He sat up and looked at Batman very seriously, as though he had no conception that he was being a jerk.
"No." Batman said. "Only one of them lived with me. The current Robin lives with his parents." That was vague enough.
"So there have been three, now? Only?" Joker narrowed his eyes and looked off to the side, thinking very intently on the subject. "What about the other one? The one... you don't have around, anymore..."
"You killed him. End of story." Batman shifted upward a bit. As soon as he recovered enough to stand up, he was getting out of there.
"He must've lived SOMEwhere," Joker insisted. "He didn't live with his mommy... that much is certain. What about the one that lived with you...? Why? Why would he live with you? He isn't your son, is he?"
"Why do you care?" Batman dodged. "'Cause he's the one who's come closest to killing you?"
"No. Because he's connected to you."
"Leave him out of it."
Joker frowned and splashed the water a little. "You have a soft spot for birds," he grumbled. "But about the Todd boy... did you have a funeral?"
"Yes." Batman responded darkly. "What does that matter?"
"I was just asking," Joker said innocently. He recognized the pattern here - talk about Robin, make Batman angry. It wasn't one Joker was enjoying... but he was so curious. And so very intent on making things different between them. "I suppose that since we're trying to be honest with each other, I should tell you that I... regret that day."
Batman sat up, the pain in his back forgotten. "You'd better not be joking." He warned menacingly.
Thoughtfully, Joker watched Batman for a good few moments. He considered the manner in which the Bat had responded, evaluating the emotion in his eyes. Tenderly, he whispered, "I apologize for the loss of the boy. Given the chance, I wouldn't do it again."
Batman glared at him silently for at least five minutes, trying to determine if he believed him. The Joker had been on a truth streak lately.
Finally, he spoke.
"You used to be so proud of it. What's changed?"
"Us." Joker poked a finger into the water and twirled it around, watching the bubbles follow. "I know how I feel about you and everything that's ever happened. And anything I've done to hurt you I regret. Write a book about it if you want to, but for the first time in as long as I can remember, I'm afraid. And I don't like it. But there's no avoiding it. I'm dying finally, and I... I can't tell myself... that I don't deserve it."
Joker turned around and headed for the edge of the tub, disinterested in actually bathing at this point. He wanted to go back down to the cave and curl into a corner where he could just be
alone.
Batman nodded, then pulled himself out of the tub with effort.
"It's not up to us to decide who deserves to live and who deserves to die." He said, trying to be somewhat comforting. "We're not gods. And I know gods, and even they can't always make that
decision."
Joker's face clearly said he wasn't interested in furthering the conversation. He waited until Batman was out and far enough away from him before climbing out of the tub. He snatched up a towel and wrapped his lower half up in it. "You think I deserve to die. That's all that matters. Take me back downstairs."
Batman didn't move.
"I didn't mean that." He said, ignoring the fact that he was soaking wet. "I was angry."
"You're always angry. You're angry right now. You meant it as surely as I'm standing here. Now take me downstairs."
Batman sighed. "If that's what you want."
He headed past Joker to grab another towel.
*It isn't what I want,* the white-skinned man tried to say. He parted his mouth and made a soft noise, trying to force the words out. But he found that he couldn't.
He couldn't say a word.
All Joker could do was stand there, shivering while Batman went for another damned towel. He curled his arms around his body and crouched down slightly, feeling absolutely miserable. He tried convincing himself it was because of his illness... but whatever the case was, when the Bat turned around, he would see the slightest hint of tears in half-closed green eyes.
Batman turned around soon enough. He noticed the Joker's lips were slightly purple, and that he was shivering. He took the towel in his hand and wrapped it around the Joker's shoulders, pulling it tightly around him. He didn't say a word, but his gaze was just intense enough to show he cared.
The Joker was quiet, trying to keep his eyes downward. Why bother saying thank you? Why bother commenting on the fact that Batman was quite the looker in a damp suit? Why bother doing anything? He never seemed to find the RIGHT thing to say. Maybe if he didn't speak ever again, Batman would stay gentle as he lived out his final days.
He didn't seem to notice it when his body leaned into the gesture.
Batman felt the Joker's cheeks. Even through his gloves, it was obvious that he was far too cold.
Cold. Like the floor at Arkham.
He flashed back to that night, remembering the strangest little details, like how it smelled. You weren't supposed to be able to remember smells. . .
A strange vibration snapped him back to reality. He looked down, and realized that he was holding a shivering Joker against him, his hand pressing the shorter man's head against his chest.
Of course. Basic first aid: keep the patient warm.
Right. That was it.
*
end