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! raytheoncentaur3@yahoo.com
Archive: Yes, certainly! Just let me know it's there!
Disclaimer: Batman & Joker are (c) DC! Not mine!
Summary: Batman goes to talk to Joker in the hospital, and things go downhill for the both of them.
The Game We Play, Chapter 8 - Visiting Hours
Co-written by Jay Narra & Liana Kerzner
In the quiet hours past midnight, the hospital continued to buzz with life. Nurses passed through the halls, checking on their patients as directed. Inside a particularly dark room, a soft beeping noise filled the air every few seconds, keeping track of a weak heartbeat. The door was left open a crack, allowing a stream of light to filter through.
The Joker had yet to move after hours of being under the influence of heavy narcotics. He hadn't even dreamt at this point.
But all of a sudden he made a soft noise and shifted slightly on the mattress.
His first instincts were dulled and forgotten as he woke up, peering at the ceiling with hazy green eyes. And when he spoke, his voice wavered. It was weak and strained as he struggled to stay
awake. "Batman?"
Joker tried looking around the room, but all he could see were empty shadows. There were no narrowed eyes peering at him... no gruff answer... no movements at all. He quickly determined the room was empty besides him, and let out a disappointed sigh. *It was stupid of you to imagine otherwise,* he scolded himself.
*****
The wind howled atop the roof of the GCPD. Jim Gordon awaited the arrival of Batman anxiously. He lit another cigarette and took a long pull on it. Last night had got him started again.
He was trying not to think the worst, but it was difficult. If he blinked now, he'd see the two of them lying on the floor together, wrapped up in that cape, looking so peaceful.
But the Joker had obviously had the tar kicked out of him. What the hell had happened?
He heard the flapping of fabric behind him. It could have been the wind, but he'd been doing this dance long enough to know better.
"Batman."
"Jim."
There was an awkward silence. Gordon wanted to ask how he was doing, but he didn't dare. The less he knew, the better. Fortunately, Batman got down to business right away.
"How long will it take those changes I suggested for Arkham to get started?" He asked.
"With Wayne money behind them? Only as long as it takes the architects to do the blueprints, I'd imagine."
"How long will that take?" The eye slits in the cowl reflected two flecks of moonlight.
"I'm not an architect."
Just then, Commissioner Gordon's cell phone rang.
"Gordon." He answered. "Yup. Yup. Just a few minutes ago? Got it."
He hung up. Batman watched with interest.
"He's awake." The commissioner announced.
"What's his condition?"
"Critical."
That gave the Dark Knight pause. "Damn it, Harley."
"You're the one that nearly killed him." Gordon pointed out.
Batman glared at him. Gordon wasn't fazed.
"I've seen you do this dance for a lot of years." He said, then took another pull on his cigarette. "You don't do things like that. You don't lose control. Maybe you should consider getting out. . ."
He looked up. The Batman was gone.
*****
All at once the light in the room shifted, seemingly blocked in some areas, and then replaced in others. Joker stared at the shapes the lights made for a few seconds, muttering something to himself. His eyes made their way to the door of the room, meeting with two white slits where eyes should be. The dark form hulking a ways away melted into the doorway and floated on the air. It mutated slowly, drifting off to the left.
Joker squeezed his eyes shut and tried to focus again, registering the fact that it was Batman after a couple of tries. "Hello," he managed, giggling light-headedly afterward. He lifted his left hand
off the bed, waving with the tips of his fingers. "I... don't feel so good, Bats..."
When the form moved into the room and closed the door, Joker smiled a little - as best he could with muscles that felt like foam. His heart rate sped up a little, showing on the monitors nearby.
"Are you in pain, or is it just the anesthetic?" The Dark Knight asked, concern lacing his voice. He picked up the chart at the foot of the bed and started reading it using a flashlight. He noticed the quickening of the beeping that represented the Joker's heartbeat.
"Relax." He said. "I'm not going to hurt you. You don't have to be afraid of me right now."
It occurred to him that those were the most words he'd ever spoken to the Joker at a single stretch without there being a dire need to be verbose. His strategy with the Clown Prince had been to say as little to him as possible, partially because he didn't say much in general when he was Batman, but also because he didn't want to give the Joker any reason to believe they had anything in common. Any relationship whatsoever.
Now, however, he was questioning the wisdom of those tactics. He was considering the possibility that, if the Joker was really out for his attention, then those theories about him creating the super villains that seemed to sprout up around Gotham had a degree of truth to them, at least in the Joker's case. If the mass murders really were a ploy for attention, then ignoring the Joker only made things worse. At the very least, he was giving the Clown a reason to continue, when otherwise he might have gotten bored with the whole thing.
It was a lot of accountability to swallow: so many lives, so much destruction. He hadn't wanted to believe those theories, because it seemed so egotistical to do so. But perhaps it was vain to ignore
them totally too.
He had to admit, he wasn't able to solve this mystery. . . yet.
However, on the way over, he'd devised a new plan to deal with his arch-nemesis. He wasn't sure that it would do anything, but it was worth a try: nothing else had worked, and he was tired of failing.
Joker closed his eyes as Batman read the charts, relaxing into the bed as best he could. The hulking presence of his former arch nemesis set his nerves alight with excitement, fear and a tingling need to speak. "Not in pain," he mumbled, his voice weak under the layer of giddy energy. It wasn't what he wanted to say... but he was having trouble sorting through his mingled thoughts.
The room felt strangely more warm than was usual when with the Bat. He had entered with a distinctly adjusted attitude, and the Joker had immediately absorbed it. It was the processing part he was having difficulty with. "How.. do I look?" he joked lightly, opening his eyes to watch for Batman's eye slits.
"Like hell." Batman responded honestly with a slight smirk.
"Good," the clown giggled. "I didn't think you'd come." He frowned and peered at the chart in Batman's hand. "Is.. is it bad?"
"Not terrible, considering." Batman responded, then replaced the chart. "I think you'll live."
"Think?" Joker looked away and off to the side, taking in a deep breath as he thought over the word usage.
"You'll live." Batman said firmly, some of the old harshness returning.
Joker glanced up at him, contained and very watered-down frustration shining in his eyes. He didn't say anything, but shifted on the bed, feeling the weakness in his arms more completely.
*New plan. New plan.* Batman told himself.
"You're a first class pain in the ass, Joker." He said.
"I try," Joker snapped. "Makes... makes things more interesting that way. At least you... talk when I'm a pain." His eyes softened as he gave up on shifting, finding it more difficult than he'd originally planned. He peered upward, a glint of fascination passing over his expression. He wanted to see those eyes again.
Batman nodded and intentionally started pacing the room, a pensive look on his face.
"No. No, you're wrong." He said after a while. "I say less when you irritate me."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Joker asked, following Batman with his eyes. "That you aren't irrar.. uh.." He cleared his throat and pinched the bridge of his nose. "..irritated.. with me?"
"Not yet." Batman answered. Another smirk. He crouched down next to the bed.
Joker nodded silently and went about his business of inspecting himself. He lifted the sheets to feel around the bandages on his chest. "Nice job, I guess," he mumbled. "So.. what were you out do-ow!" He pulled his hands away and let the sheets fall. "Picking. Bad."
"Picking. Bad." Batman agreed. The smirk became more of a grin.
Joker glanced instinctively up at Batman's face, noting the smile with complete and utter fascination. Had he ever seen Batman smile like that? Ever? In all their years of having been 'playmates,' Joker couldn't recall a time it had been there. And it was such an improvement! "Very bad," he tested, smiling lightly in response. He couldn't help it. The look on Batman's face was infectious... it delighted him to no end.
Batman looked over the Joker's broken body and sighed. His expression became sad. He was aware that the Joker was staring, but didn't really care at the moment.
"I don't want to do this anymore, Joker." He said.
Batman's simple statement put Joker off just enough that he couldn't find the right words to respond with. He struggled to come up with anything to say, closing his eyes to try to clear his mind. It was no use. He was far too drugged up to even care. So, instead, he waited to see if Batman would speak again.
The Bat headed for the window in Joker's room, moving quietly. Red and blue lights reflected off his face and cowl as an ambulance pulled into the Emergency entrance below.
"Why do you say that?" Joker asked, trying to break the silence. He didn't like it when Batman brooded. The whole feel of the room changed when he did that.
Red blue red blue red blue. The flashing colors twisted on the Dark Knight's face, mirroring the feelings inside him.
He tried to put the feelings into words, but couldn't. Emoting wasn't his strong suit. The feelings were replaced by frustration.
"Because it's getting old." He growled. That wasn't what he'd wanted to say, but it was all he could manage.
Joker winced and let out a quick sigh. "You were smiling a moment ago. Why the change of attitudes, Bats?" He wanted to get up and follow him... stand next to him and look him in the eye.
"Temporary insanity." The Bat grumbled. The more frustrated he got, the more his other emotions shut down. His mind was betraying him again, in exactly the opposite way it had last night. When he wanted to use his emotions, they weren't there.
His lip curled in anger. He wanted to hit something.
"Don't shut me out again," Joker responded, pushing his body upward into a sitting position. He wavered slightly and paused to let his muscles get used to being used.
"I'm trying not to." Batman said through gritted teeth.
Joker ran his shaking hand through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead. It had been stuck to his skin and was really starting to bother him. Stupid hospital. "So come over here and tell me what you're really thinking about."
"It's not. . . that simple." The Bat was forcing his words out. Slowly, he turned and took a few steps toward the bed.
"Sure it is," Joker protested, waving his hand in the air. "Come on.. don't be sour about it. Just talk."
"Easy for you to say!" Batman snapped. "You never shut up!"
"And you don't know how to form multiple syllables!" Joker snarled, getting a little dizzy the longer he stayed up.
Batman growled at him viciously. His fist came up. It hung in the air.
"What are you going to do with that, hmm, Bats? Hit me with it? Collapse my face so that I can't talk to you anymore?" Joker taunted Batman openly, pointing with one finger. "It'd do some good, wouldn't it? You wouldn't have to face reality, then. You could just pretend I'd never said anything at all! Face it! You're afraid to really talk to me! You're afraid there'll be a repeat of last night! And I can't understand what was so goddamned horrible about it!"
A feral roar ripped itself from Batman's throat as he tore his fist out of the air. He fled back to the window in a flurry of flapping black cape.
"Wait!" Joker cried. "You can't leave! I'm not through speaking to you!" His hands came down on the metal bar keeping him from falling off.
Batman leaned on the window ledge. His shoulders were heaving violently as he tried to catch his breath. He was sweating under the cowl. It was starting to itch.
"Batman," the madman's voice whispered. "Just... talk to me."
"Batman. Doesn't. Talk."
In a moment of clarity, the Dark Knight flew across the room, closed the door, locked it, and drew himself into the darkest corner of the almost pitch black room. That done, he tore the cowl off his head.
Suddenly, he could breathe. He could think.
Joker bit his lip anxiously, watching as the shadows melted together and enveloped the Batman. He was gone suddenly, vanished into that which he embraced. The monitors picked up speed again, beeping more quickly in the silent room. He couldn't bite back the fear rising in his throat. It was too dark. He could feel the anger. "What are you doing?" he asked softly.
There was an eerie silence in the room. Nothing but a slight rustle of heavy fabric.
Joker backed up into the metal head-board, bringing one hand to his chin in thoughtful repose. "Are you all right?"
A helicopter flew by outside, scanning the room in an arc of light. Because of the angle, however, it didn't illuminate that corner much. As the noise of the helicopter faded away, the Batman's voice said, "Fine."
Green eyes snapped from the window back to the corner he figured Batman was hiding in. "Where are your pointed ears?" he demanded, squinting into the shadows. "Why, bless my soul... have you unmasked yourself?"
"You want to talk? Let's talk."
"Oh, goodie.. you're ready to be cooperative!" Joker's voice was laced with sarcasm. He cleared his throat and then took in a deep breath. His next words were softer, less abrasive to the ears...
particularly of the pointed variety. "What's on your mind?"
"I keep trying to talk and it. . . It gets stuck." Batman's voice was softening, changing.
"How can I help you?" Joker turned his body to watch the shadows, wishing he could just get up already. His recovery was going to be a LONG one. "I want to help you..."
There was a creaking as the suit fought against Batman shaking his head. "You can't." He said, then paused. "That's not true. You can. You can stop killing people and destroying things and generally being a first class psychopath! You can try to find an ounce of humanity in that twisted black heart of yours and use what is obviously a brilliant mind for something other than ruining people's lives to get my attention! I don't want that kind of responsibility!" Bruce felt dizzy. That had been very cathartic.
"Then why do you put on the mask every night? Isn't it your duty to do that? To carry that responsibility? Nevermind the fact that you have to deal with me... what about all those others? The weed... Spooky... the Snowglobe..." He sighed and rubbed his temple, laying back against the wall again. His vision was blurring slightly. "Why have you waited so long to figure out what I was really after? If my mind is brilliant, than what is yours?"
A sigh. "All the others combined don't amount to the sheer. . . lunacy of what you pull off. I'm too busy trying to figure out what you're going to do next. I never considered that it was all part of
a grand scheme to get me to pay attention to you. I didn't think there was any method to your madness."
"I..." Joker stopped in his protest. It would get him nowhere if he were to argue. He was having trouble coming up with something else to say, though. "I'm surprised. But to tell you the truth, I wasn't really sure about it, either." He looked down and covered his face with his hands. "Until last night, I hadn't ever been able to think straight about it. I couldn't have explained it to you before then. As.. as silly as it sounds..." He giggled softly and moved his hands so they covered his mouth, only. "Where were you before you came here tonight?"
"Police station. Looking into making your room at Arkham all nice and cozy for when you go back there." The figure in the corner shifted and chuckled softly. "I'm having them paint it purple."
Joker blinked a few times and washed away the words he'd prepared. Batman had surprised him just now. "Why should you care?" He refrained from mentioning he wasn't GOING to be going back.
"Because maybe if I care, you will too."
"Hrmm... thank you." Joker paused and thought for a couple of seconds. *Don't do it,* he scolded himself mentally. *Don't you dare say something to infuriate him.* "Are you having them set you up a room as well?" *Dammit!* "Heh... heh... it was a joke." He made a face and searched for a cover-up... something to dismiss the blurted ramblings. Hell, maybe Batman would just smile and pretend it hadn't happened. "Don't kid yourself," he murmured, his eyes distant. He hadn't realized he's spoken out loud.
"Sure Joker. And we can have slumber parties and tell ghost stories after the guards call lights out. I'll hide you under my bed and stuff pillows under your blankets so they don't suspect." The figure shook his head and rubbed his forehead. He looked and sounded almost drunk. He was actually just depressurizing and letting himself be stupid for a moment.
Joker slapped his forehead and started laughing, picturing it in his mind in an almost cartoon-styled version. "Oh, and I could do your hair! Imagine how cute you'd look with pig-tails!" He laughed harder and harder, filling the room with the sound of his strained voice. Tears streamed down his cheeks after a little while. He tried calming himself, fighting to take in deep breaths rather than the rapid, shallow ones he'd been having. He wanted to stop long enough to address the issue of how they'd been sleeping last night. Batman's comment had made him remember something he was curious about.
"No way. YOU'RE the one in pigtails. And purple bunny slippers! And milk and little smiley face cookies!" Bruce was laughing now too at the sheer ridiculousness of the whole thing.
"Oh, I can't STAND it!" Joker managed, his laughter rising in volume again. "My.. m-my hair isn't long enough! And I'd only eat the cookies if you'd made them, y'know.. Can't trust those guards.." He giggled spastically, shaking the bed in time with his body movements. *And I could feed them to you,* he thought to himself.
"Oh, and I look SO sharp in an apron, too." Bruce countered, wiping at his eyes. He then realized how hard the Joker was laughing and grew serious. "Joker. Stop. You'll hurt yourself."
"It already hurts," Joker hissed, his laughter breaking and falling apart as he spoke. He waited until he could breathe again before looking toward Batman. "I wish you could come over here. It's hard carrying on a conversation with somebody hiding in the shadows." He shrugged and laid down, sighing as he did so. He really had no desire to look feeble, but there was no choice in the matter. "We should play dress-up sometime," he added on, almost as an afterthought.
A pair of hands grabbed the abandoned cowl. "Isn't that what we've been doing this whole time?"
Batman replaced his cowl. The window closed.
He got up and moved toward the Joker.
"Okay. I'm over here." He said.
"I'm trying to decipher whether or not that's a good thing," Joker responded, looking up into the slitted eyes. "I could've simply turned away if it would've made you feel better." He frowned and
rubbed at his eyes. "Anyway, I wanted to ask you... Last night... What... what were you thinking about when you and I...?" He moved his hands around in the air, trying to finish the sentence without actually saying it. "...when you kissed me."
Batman's face became inscrutable.
"You were cold." He said.
"Oh..." Joker thought over the simple statement. "...Is that all?"
"My brain wasn't functioning like it normally does." Batman explained. "It made a lot more sense at the time."
"Now I can't help but ask you if you regret it. Are you disgusted by me?" Joker lifted a brow and shifted, propping himself upward again.
Batman's visual attention turned to the metal bed railing. He ran his hand along it.
"Not as much as I used to be." A pause... "I try not to regret things," he added.
Joker smiled to himself and reached out to touch Batman's hand, running a finger over his knuckles. "These hurt, y'know."
Batman's arm jerked, but his hand clamped onto the rail, forcing himself not to pull away. "They're supposed to." He said.
A soft flinching of muscles could be seen in Joker's arm, responding to the sudden tension in Batman's hand. "I know. I was just saying..." A string of curiosity had tied itself around his
willpower and completely cut if off... He dared to rest his hand on Batman's, leaving it there to test the control his nightly playmate had.
A muscle in Batman's jaw twitched just where the cowl ended. "Somebody's gotta do it."
"Not anymore," Joker answered immediately. The second the words left his mouth, he regretted saying that. It was a promise, and one he couldn't be sure he would keep. He closed his eyes and shook his head. *Oh, boy... what're you getting yourself into, now?* Absentmindedly, his fingers stroked the glove, memorizing the form underneath it.
Batman looked at him with undisguised distrust. His hand snaked away from the railing. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he growled.
"Nothing." Joker pulled back and laid down, turning his head away. "Forget about it." The moment had passed in his mind. There had been a brief instant in which he could've imagined himself giving up his way of life... ending the murders... the destruction... But it passed. All that replaced it was thoughts of how pained he felt inside. He couldn't understand it.
Batman lunged at the Joker and grabbed his head, turning it back toward him.
"What. Have. You. Done?" he demanded, assuming that the Joker had cooked up yet another way to try to kill him and/or numerous other people. How could he have been so stupid? He'd let his guard down.
So much for talking.
"Batman!" Joker yelped, his eyes wide in blatant fear. He winced under the hands' tightened grip, clenching the sheets in his fingers. "What're you doing?!"
"Answer the question!" Batman commanded an answer through gritted teeth - with such force that a small drop of moisture flew from his mouth and landed on the Joker's face.
The monitors beeped more quickly than they had all night, going off one after the other. "Let me go! I'm sorry! You.. you misunderstood me!" The sheets ripped in his hands. "I... I..." He couldn't force anymore words out, feeling his throat tighten. The drugs made him hazy.. he couldn't think fast enough to even react properly.
Batman let him go, but his hand stayed poised to grab him again if he didn't like the explanation. There was a commotion in the hallway as the nursing staff tried to respond to the monitors and tried the locked door. Batman's head snapped around to look over his shoulder.
"Go!" he barked. The hallway grew obediently quiet. He turned his attention back to the Joker. "Talk."
Joker tried his best to regain some measure of composure, coughing nervously as the Batman stared him down. "I only wanted to tell you I'd stop..." He felt incredibly intimidated, lowering his eyes as though commanded to do so. "I would stop..."
Batman stared at him for a painfully long time, his expression slowly becoming more and more enraged.
He felt betrayed.
"You're lying!" He spat. In one fluid movement, he made an arc of the room, unlocked the door and undid the safety fasteners on the window.
And he was gone.
*
END