Title: Not Quite the Bat...
Disclaimer: If I owned them they would have less clothing while together
Rating: PG13-R for now
Warnings: Gore for now
Characters/Pairings: Batman/Joker
Summary: A last stand by a band of Gotham’s worst nearly kill The Batman and The Joker is less than pleased. No one stands between Joker and his Bat and he aims to make sure it never happens again...



He could still feel the weight of him, the warmth of his breath against his face, so alive, for now. There was blood marring his hands, his gloves lost somewhere to the night. He did not want there to be blood, at least not right now, not from that man. Joker hurt. Everywhere. His heart, his lungs, his soul hurt. He did not know what to do, he never expected this, and he was lost.

Of course he had expected to suffer if Batman died; they were two halves of a whole! But he had expected to fade perhaps, maybe just to die in the same moment, purpose gone, alone again in a world that could never understand or have meaning. But pain…The threat of Batman’s death, this was not the solid grounding feeling of a punch or a kick, this was intangible, elusive, it slipped between his fingers infecting all of him. A cancer, Batman’s cancer eating away at him with his foolishness. Bastard.
He didn’t want to hurt. Not like this. But Batman did not care; Batman did not even care about himself. It was all Gotham this, Gotham that, which had been fine before, but things had changed. Before they had been locked in a suicide battle to the end, Batman had told him that once long ago. He said it did not have to be like that, that he could be helped, that maybe the Batman could help him control the chaos. He couldn’t accept, they both knew why, they were both too stubborn, too afraid to trust, equals shouting out to each other across a gorge of acid. But the game had changed and for a few short days they had danced without death, at least not death for themselves. When The Joker played the hero, played The Knight, they were almost on the same side, close enough so that after all these years Bats was not afraid to see in The Knight what he had feared to see in the Joker, himself.

But now everything was wrong. It hurt. Even in death they were tormenting him! Batman could not be the Bat without hurting himself and The Knight could not carry out his very necessary mission with a dead Bat! Shock. That’s what the old black man in the unmarked medical van had said, something about blood loss and his heart…he almost followed the van but he stopped himself. He didn’t want to see his Bat as anything else, as one of these people, the faceless crowd, not when he was hurt. Batman could live, he was strong, but his pale imitation of life? Whatever he chose to be when not his caped crusader…could he survive this? He would be too human, too pale.
For the first time in all the life that the Joker remembered a sense of self preservation had taken hold. How strange. To save the Bat was to save himself. So the Bat would just have to suck it up like the rest of mankind and live.

“You cannot possibly be thinking of answering that.” Alfred had made his way to Bruce’s room the moment the Batsignal had lit up the night sky. Bruce was sitting up in bed, covered in blankets and wrapped in bandages tight as a straight jacket, the machine at his side beeped pleasantly, alerting him every moment that he was still alive. But blue eyes were fixed on a point outside the window, his mind miles away.

“They might need me.” His voice seemed as distant as his mind, not determine to meet the call quite yet, his distractions stopping him as much as his health.

“And they may be asking when you are expected to return to work. You drive the most technologically advanced machinery on the plant yet find yourself whole incapable of using a telephone. Might it be prudent just this once to call the commissioner?”

Bruce sighed and tore his eyes from the signal, looking at Alfred at last. His ward was upset; he was in pain from more than just the physical wounds he suffered. Bruce looked like a torn man as he looked up at him, begging the answers to questions he could never ask and that had no answer. Of course Alfred was use to it, was there a single moment in memory in which Bruce did not suffer? But it seemed…deepened somehow, the same expression he had whenever Batman did not seem like quite enough.

“You are right Alfred, if it is the commissioner I should just call him.” That was somewhat unexpected, not wanting the ailing man to change his mind Alfred quickly handed over the secure line, busying himself with stocking medical supplies while the phone rang.

Odd really. To see Batman’s gruff voice coming from the young man before him, his pale and injured ward ushering a deep growl of inquiry. The commissioner must have responded because Bruce’s expression changed…an imitation of Batman to the excited young man Bruce never had the chance to be.

“Stay off the roof.” Batman growled as he clicked the phone off, Bruce looked to him and Alfred could see that spark of life in his eyes. A sparkle that Alfred had believed to have died long ago.

“Alfred I have to go.”

The Batmobile was parked literally next to the building, a stubborn alley away from the parking lot. Anger at his own condition heated his body as the fleeting thought of a parking ticket on the batmobile fluttered through his mind. He repressed the urge to roll his eyes at himself, he had been around Alfred and the Joker too long, he was starting to develop his own twisted sense of humor. Getting out of the car was a challenge, he was worse than last time, the flashing on his belt started as soon as it was on… as soon as Alfred had fastened it on him along with the rest of his gear.

“Hey there handsome, need a lift?” There he was, The Knight leaning against the wall of the building, the pilfered grappling hook twirling in his hands. Emerald eyes and ruby lips flashed bright in the darkness. His lips pulled up into a smile as his graceful yet exaggerated walk brought him closer. “As much as I would love to stand here eye-fucking each other all night we should get off the street.”

He stopped and spun, his back brushing Batman’s chest as he launched the hook successfully to the top of MCU, he jumped a little in excitement, his face glowing with the small victory when he faced him again. Batman swallowed the chuckle bubbling in his throat, too much like an indulging parent and an excitable child. He was ready this time for the heat coursing through his body at the site of the other man, ready for the too-comfortable feeling that made him vulnerable.

“How long did you have to practice to manage that?” Batman teased gruffly but his smile did not wither, it grew.

“Aw Bats are you offering lessons on how to play with your toys?” He winked lecherously, his voice held the timber of tinkling laughter. He was moving again, his arms coming around Batman’s neck in an almost embrace, only Batman’s arms hung at his sides, itching to hold the slim waist. Their faces were only an inch apart, etiquette demanded that they turn their heads but the Knight seemed perfectly at ease and Batman stood transfixed, too proud to be moved but afraid of getting lost in those eyes.

“Come on Big Boy, can you hold on to me this time?” Batman made no move, he could see green eyes roll in annoyance but they were still filled with amusement. Warm arms slipped off his shoulders and for a moment Batman was flushed with relief and a sudden disappointment but those hands wqere back, brushing his cape out of the way to grasp his own gloved hands. His hands were placed gently on the swell of the other mans hips, prominent hipbones felt easily through all those layers, heat pooled again in him, sweltering. Batman took a deep breath, he expected to see his own feelings reflected in his companion, or laughter perhaps but when he looked up he found only worry.

For an irrational moment Batman wanted to soothe that pain away, his arms slipped around the other man, encircling him his arms before he could stop himself. A single arm wrapped tight around his chest, the other stretched out above them both. They rose slowly into the night sky, wind whipped at them and Batman found himself glad for the other mans thin costume, the warmth he offered against the cold buffet. He clung tight to the Knight, not used to trusting or depending on another but that dangerous comfort was letting him see the city in a way he never could. He saw in his helplessness peace, the people who continued their lives in the light he could not understand, his Gotham so alive. He looked back at his aid, his self-appointed knight and found that green eyes were watching the city- only through the eyes of batman. Their eyes locked as they reached the edge of the building, the worry seemed to melt away as they climbed onto the edge. Following the Knight’s lead they sat on the edge of the building, watching cars go by and their legs dangling over the edge.

As Batman sat warm unnecessary hands held him, their gentle touch brushing away his cape once more, revealing the calming pace of the softly flashing light. Batman looked at the other man in silent wonder, that worry, this awkward tenderness was all for him.

“I heard you saved me.”

“You don’t remember?” Batman could hear the tinge of disappointment, he hoped that the blush rising to his own face was less obvious than it felt, lost in the wash of light from their city.

“It is all a little…muddled.”

“In that case I saved you. I am your Knight. It is kind of my job.” Batman heard the subtle sadness in him, the self depreciating tone, but his face was blank, unfeeling.

“You did not follow the medical truck; you did not try to find out who I am.” The man’s head shook slowly, coming back from some distant place in his mind. He turned and they stared at each other, it was not like looking at anyone else in the world, to see yourself in another. It was as if he looked away he was turning his back on part of himself, surrendering that overwhelming feeling. He did not want to give that up yet.

“You do not care who I am. Whose face lies beneath the mask.” It was not a question.

“This is who you are.” A gloved hand rose to his cheek, the intimate touch strange but not unwelcome, a deep ache of longing was born in his chest in that moment, a touch that put into sharp relief everything he did not have in his life. “This is your face.”

“And yours?” The hand dropped and he looked away again, he looked beautiful with the lights of the city gently washing over him.

“My face does not matter. This is who I am right now.” He sighed, his head tipping back to see the night sky, stars muffled by Gotham’s lights he turned back to the streets below. “This is the face that you know. The one you can see me in. This is me.”

‘Why Me?’ the words were on his lips when a voice- his voice- spoke to him through the darkness ‘Because while you exist I am not alone.’

He looked over to him in the shock of the memory; his heart sped, thumping against his ribs. He wanted to reach out, the press this person who mattered despite everything, this person who cared and existed close to him. To hold onto this precarious feeling and hide it away where no one could take it from him. The urge, the desire built within him, strengthening his courage, to reach out and touch another person. But as Batman struggled with himself The Knight had already won his inner battle and the words came out stuttered and awkward, foreign in his mouth.

“Are you-okay?” Their eyes met, an intense lock of green and blue. The Knight licked his lips nervously. “I mean all of it. Your health and…everything.” His arms swept out, drawing their focus to the city. “Us.” He was tentative as he looked back to Batman, afraid to see the answers to questions he never asked of anyone, answers that would mean nothing from anyone else.

Batman opened his mouth, ready to spew the automatic growl. ‘I’m fine’ but tonight was different, he was different. For once in his life as Batman he was speaking to an equal, someone who saw life through the same tortured eyes.

“If you had not carried me to the ground level I would have died in the time it took for them to reach me.” The Knight nodded, the news was what he expected but not what he wanted to hear, his hands were twisting in his lap painfully. Batman wanted to reach out and hold those hands.

How is everything…his city, his life, his half tortured existence, how did he feel about it all? Did he ever really let himself feel it at all? But there was that bubbling in his chest, that excited childlike feeling he could not explain as he gazed on the other man, watching him anguish over Batman. Everything to him was the way he woke up thinking of when they would meet next, it was thinking for just a second that every doorbell was him, every ring of a phone meant hearing his voice. Everything was the one thing he had let slip over into his life as Bruce Wayne.

“As for us, as for everything…”He waited, he wanted The Knight to stop moving, to focus only on him, to understand what he was trying to convey because it cost him so much to do it. A gloved hand slipped to his cape, brushing it away to see this heart flashing on his belt. Wide worried eyes settled on him, the hand setting gently on his knee. “For me, for right now…we are everything.”

A small smile graced the Knights ruby lips. “Even though this us, this everything is killing you.” His voice was soft and pained, it did not sound natural for this man of brilliant smiles to be so hurt, Batman longed to comfort him but he had only lies to offer as hope. What use is it to lie to your own soul?

“If I die doing this we will certainly mean everything to me until my dying day.” The knight winced but the smile felt less strained.

“You have the darkest sense of humor I have ever seen. That is saying something.” The tension between them rose now that they could not ignore how exposed they had made themselves, how naked they really were.

“I do not want you to die playing my games.”

“It does not have to be like this. If you stop killing them then I do not have to stop you. I can help you.”

The knight smiled and realized his hand still lay on Batman’s knee, his fingers began tracing lazy patterns across his leg. “If I do not kill them then you will die playing their games, we have been over this. What kind of hero would I be if I let that happen?”

“We are not heroes.” Batman was surprised to see the smile he got for that, how warm it was.

“No. We are something more.”

Heat was flooding through him once more; Alfred had already checking in with him once saying his heart rate was climbing. How could he say that it was because the man beside him had a hand on his leg, that every innocent touch was speeding his heart? The Knight spun beside him to sit cross-legged facing him. Batman swallowed, the hand was playing absentmindedly with his armor, running gently across it as the man himself became more excited. Batman grabbed the hand and held it firmly in his own. There was a beat in which they both realized they were holding hands. Their eyes met and without looking away The Knight entangled their fingers, his gloved hand holding onto Batman’s.

Batman looked down at their entwined hands, black against black, one holding tight, one limp, he wanted those hands to meld so that he did not know where one started and the other began. Slowly he closed his fingers around the others hand. He looked up; the Knight was watching him with the sweetest innocents that it almost made him believe that there was good left in both of them.

“I am not going to let me kill you, or is it let you kill yourself?” A thumb stroked the back of Batman’s hand; they were both watching the mesh of black, both wishing to be rid of their gloves, to actually feel the warmth of human touch. A soft tinkling laugh made Batman look up. “I am not going to let us kill you.”

“But neither of us can stop who we are.”

“And we are both too stubborn to try.”

“So what now?”

“You could either trust me not to kill them and stay in bed...” Batman’s rueful smile was enough answer for both of them. “Or I propose we have shared custody! Like a real All-American family, distrust and organized schedules.” His smile and energy were palpable; Batman cocked an eyebrow under his mask, silently amused.

“Custody of whom? The criminals?”

“No. Of you!”

“You’re joking.”

“Me? Never!” The man was smiling, the pitch of his voice rising in excitement, he was serious. “If we just stay together, not out in the city waiting for you to die but at home. Safe, somewhere where I can protect you and you can protect Gotham from me.”

“No.” The answer was immediate and final. He could not take anyone back to the Batcave, to allow them access to his sanctuary. And there was so much more than mere practicalities to contend with. Could he spend days with this Knight and not become more engrossed? Could he remain stoic and cold or would the relentless feeling of comfort take over his senses?
“Bats think about it! Are you really saying that you would rather die and let these criminals die with you than stay with me?”

“It is not that simple.”

“But it is.” The man moved closer, his knees brushing the side of Batman’s leg. “I can go with you or you can come with me. I know you don’t want to give up your freedom, it was not easy for me to offer.” Batman squeezed his hand in silent encouragement before he could stop himself. He froze, the movement had been instinctual, human, something he had not felt for another person in years. He had always had to watch and mimic emotion, he had to pretend until now. “But this is the only way to save you.” His green eyes bore into him, pleading with him to live. “Besides, I look amazing in a nurse uniform.” The grin caught Batman off guard, his own lips responding with a smile of his own, the muscles felt strange to use as Batman, it felt like a surrender and a victory.

“Let’s go.” Batman stood up, finally having to release The Knight’s hand as he stood up, he felt the lose more keenly then he anticiapted but the man was bouncing up in an instant.

“Is that a yes?”

“It means we cannot expect the commissioner to stay off his own roof all night.”

Batman made his way slowly above where the Batmobile sat; he let the other bound ahead of him with the launcher. His arms spread wide in invitation as Batman drew closer.
“Need a ride down?” Batman let himself be enveloped, warm arms coming around him and this time his own arms twisted around the smaller man without hesitation, holding him close as they drifted to the ground. Batman rested his chin against the man’s shoulder, hidden in the darkness. As the city lights flashed and a heart beat steadily next to his Bruce thought of the most unsettling thing he had ever been faced with as Batman. Walking into The Knight’s arms felt like coming home.