Title: The Game We Play, Chapter 4 - The Morn After

Author: Co-written by Jay Narra & Liana Kerzner

Rating: G

Pairing: Batman/Joker

Fandom: Think "The Killing Joke," & "Arkham Asylum." Mildly BTAS. Some point after the comic "Death In The Family."

Feedback: Definitely! Appreciated! raytheoncentaur3@yahoo.com

Archive: Yes, certainly! Just let me know it's there!

Disclaimer: Batman, Joker and Harley are (c) DC! Not mine!

Summary: Batman learns of Joker's breakout and rushes to recapture him.

Bruce Wayne woke up with a start, sitting bolt upright. Something tugged at his skin in numerous places. Medical sensors of some kind.

What...?

Pieces of the night before started coming back to him, slowly at first, then with increasing momentum. Alfred appeared at his side, and started explaining that Jim Gordon had found him unconscious on the floor of the Joker's cell in Arkham, next to the Joker, and had pulled strings to get him out of there and into Dr. Thompkins' care. She had called Alfred, and the butler had returned his master to the cave.

The guards on that floor in the Asylum had been found shot to death, but other than that, it seemed that things were normal. Some kind of trigger mechanism had been found and removed, but no one was quite sure what it was supposed to have done. The Joker's blood had been found in quite a few places, and the inmate was badly injured, but, all and all, Gordon seemed amazed that things hadn't turned out worse.

Bruce was hardly listening. He was too busy trying to make sense of what had happened last night, going through all of it in his mind, analyzing and reanalyzing every bit of information. A lot of it was fuzzy. Much of it made no sense. Memories of his parent's death had gotten mixed in, as well as things that were likely hallucinations, but seemed too real. Had the Joker really said all that? Had he really kissed him? Had he, the Batman, actually let that happen?

Bruce had to admit to himself that he was scared. Gordon was wrong. It couldn't have been worse. He'd been defeated. Broken. That was always hard to accept, but his body had been broken before. His mind? His mind had been under his control since his parents' murder.

Hadn't it? He wasn't so sure any more.

According to Alfred, his vital signs had been irregular, as if he'd had a panic attack or some kind of breakdown. That would explain quite a few things. But what had pushed him that far? Was it a
combination of events? One specific trigger? The Joker's constant prodding, slowly wearing him down? All of these things? None of them?

The thing that frightened him more than anything was how comforting letting go had felt. For a brief period that night, things had made sense. Life had made sense. Now nothing made sense. The unthinkable had happened. The unreconcilable.

What was he going to do now?

He realized then that Alfred had stopped talking. When he looked over at his butler, he knew immediately that there was something he wasn't being told.

"What?" He demanded.

"Well, Master Bruce," Alfred began, lowering his head. "The Joker's escaped, but I really don't think. . ."

He looked up. He was alone.

***

Batman sat down and started monitoring police frequencies. Harley blew a hole in the wall. Unbelievable. How did she get that far?

He spun around in the chair and started toward the suit. He was going out. He was going to find that crazy bastard and he was going to. . .

Going to what?

If he thought about that, he'd be crippled, so he stopped that thought where it was. He was determined not to lose round two...

Better take the bulletproof suit this time.

*****

A dark, cloaked figure stood amidst the wreckage at Arkham Asylum. The forensics team steered clear of him. Something wasn't right. He was creepier than usual. He'd normally ask questions, or at least tell them they were doing something wrong. Communicate in some way. Today he just stood there, like some kind of demonic statue, staring at the cell. And at nothing really in particular, just a spot on the floor. And even then, it was almost as if he wasn't really seeing it.

The hole in the wall leant an unnatural brightness to the surroundings, making the Dark Knight seem even more out of place. The Downtown Gotham skyline could be seen through the hole in the wall.

The worlds inside and outside Arkham meeting precisely where Batman was standing.

Meanwhile, the Dark Knight was trying to figure out how everything had gone so wrong. This place needed him. The Joker was right in a sense -- part of him belonged here. The part of him that terrorized every denizen of this place wasn't pervasive enough. He had to put more of himself into it. He was spending all his time putting these monsters here, just so they could break out again. It was a maddening cycle. . .

. . .Here we go and here we go and here we go again, no one ever loses and nobody ever wins. . .

Damn that book! It was the ravings of a suspected pedophile who didn't like the way the system was run.

*The Joker would say that sounded like you, Bruce.*

*I don't give a rat's ass about what the Joker would say!*

*Don't you? Just last night you were curled up together like. . .*

*SHUT UP! It means nothing! It was a breakdown! I'm not responsible for what I did!*

*You're always responsible. That's what makes you different. That's what stops you from ending up in here.*

*But I am in here. Part of me is. Part of me will always be in this cell, right in that spot. A piece of me I can't get back.*

*You've lost pieces before. You go on without them. That's why you have me.*

Two shots.

The rapid flapping of wings.

The shrieking cry of the Bat.

Batman's head snapped up, awaking him from his trance and startling the nearest forensics team member.

Arkham Asylum was Bruce Wayne's mess to fix, and he knew exactly how he was going to do that. But for now, Batman had to find the Joker and clean up that mess.

When the worker he'd startled just a moment ago looked back at him, there was nothing but a hole in the wall, bleeding reddish, late-afternoon light into the cell.


*****

Batman had questioned the guards at Arkham, and one of them had recorded the license plate of the Joker's getaway car. They'd used a marked car? That was either the Joker being obvious, or Harley being obviously stupid, and the Joker being too weak to do anything about it.

Either way, it made them a lot easier to find.

The plate number went out over all police frequencies. Soon, a few sightings popped up in a fairly straight path to Gotham's old industrial district. The exact location hadn't been pinpointed, but it was enough for him to get started.

Another factory? Harley really needed to work on her originality. But he wasn't complaining that she was a creature of habit.

He set off, away from Arkham. He remarked that the place wasn't anywhere near as forboding during the day.

*****

In an abandoned toy factory, Joker laid out on a crudely made bed and covered his eyes with his hands. After Harley had managed to work the straight-jacket off of him, he had given her something to think about. She sat on the edge of the bed nearby, watching him intently. Her left arm was bruised - but couldn't be noticed due to her costume. She sighed and reached out to touch Joker's leg, wishing he would say something to her. She had only made his injuries worse, and she felt bad enough to die at the sound of her puddin's voice.

Memories of last night raced through Joker's mind over and over again, running him in circles and landing him back at the same spot. It didn't make any sense... and that was only part of the reason it wouldn't leave his mind. He could still feel the Batman's tortured psyche, reaching out for comfort in a way only he had been able to fix.

And it hurt.

It was worse than the pain in his stomach. He had tasted the promise of life in those few moments... and now they were gone. Vanished. It was as though the wind had swept away all the events and left him with a gaping hole in his chest.

Joker didn't know if he would ever be able to fill it again.

*****

It took a few hours, but as the sun was retreating behind the horizon, Batman located the car in a dark alley between two factories. He shook hishead at how obvious the "hiding spot" was. Why did the Joker keep thatobsessed airhead around? Perhaps, based on some of the things he'd said the night before, that he liked having someone's undivided attention.

But back to the immediate problem: which factory were they hiding in? One was. . .

A toy factory. Typical.

He started scaling the outside of the building, locating the window nearest Joker and Harley fairly quickly.

*****

Harley shifted slightly, pulling her legs up onto the bed. She wasn't sure what to make of her puddin's rambling. He kept mentioning the Bat.. which meant something awful had happened. She'd never seen him so upset and didn't like it at all. It made her uncomfortable to see anything but smiles on his face.

She let her eyes wander off, looking over the walls and windows of the lonely factory. It would've been a good way to calm herself down had she not met eyes with a dark figure all of a sudden.

"Batman!" she yelped.