Behind Insanity Chapter 2
Title: Behind Insanity
Author: Cainxtheworld
Rating: NC-17 (eventually)
Universe: Nolanverse (post TDK)
Summary: [BRUCExJOKER SLASH!] The Joker knows Batman's true identity. Now, Bruce must his break his one rule to protect his secret, or find some way get through to the madman before it's too late. Can Bruce see past the make-up and find the man behind the insanity?
Behind Insanity
.2.
The Tower
The Tower Card in Tarot symbolizes a dramatic change in one's life, a disruption of routines, or new conflict. It represents ruin and disturbance, a dramatic upheaval, a change in tides...
"Alfred, I need your help..." Bruce's eyes pleaded with his butler.
The sight of the seemingly lifeless Joker hanging limp in Master Wayne's arms, made the hairs on the back of Alfred's neck prick up and a chill run down his spine. Immediately, his mind turned to the worst case scenario. "Is he... dead, sir?"
"No, just unconscious..." Bruce almost wished he were dead. He had a feeling his butler would have taken that better than the truth. He glanced back down at the thinner man he was holding, just to make sure he really was still asleep. Bruce was pretty on edge at this point, half-expecting the clown to wake up at any moment, and attack him like some wild animal. But the Joker remained completely still, breathing slowly.
Now Alfred was just as tense as Bruce, knowing that the madman was only sleeping. Now he saw the maniac as a ticking time bomb, ready to spring out from Bruce's arms and start destroying the place. He frowned. "Why have you brought him here?" It was strange, almost disturbing for Alfred to see his master holding the nastiest criminal in all of Gothham in his arms like a fair damsel.
Bruce shamefully lowered his head. He didn't want to admit it, he didn't know how to admit it. He lost Rachel, he lost Harvey, and now he felt as though he had lost a piece of himself. "He knows, Alfred..." He muttered under his breathe. At this point, his voice had lost all the strength and confidence it exuded when he took on the persona of Batman.
Judging by this master's tone, Alfred could tell exactly what he was implying. He knew this day would come, that eventually someone would figure it out; he just never expected this lunatic to be the one to do it. "Bloody hell... You do need help." The old butler shook his head. "I'm sorry, sir, but I don't know what to tell you. This is not a man that can be negotiated with..."
"I know that, Alfred... I just... I just didn't know what else to do, so I brought him here." Bruce sighed. Even though Alfred always seemed to have the right answers, Bruce didn't expect him to have the solution for this problem. He was beginning to doubt there even was a solution to this problem.
"The cave is not equipped for holding prisoners of his lot, sir." Alfred did not want that thing staying in the mansion. "If he ever got out, all hell would break loose and you know it."
Bruce mulled over his words for a moment then looked up. "...I have to take that risk." He walked towards one of the open storage rooms and looked inside. It was a pretty plain room, small, perfectly square, empty save for a few boxes full of various supplies. "We can hold him in here if we clear it out. It's not much, but it'll do until I can prepare another room with a lock in the morning."
Alfred eyed the room wearily. Even if they locked the Joker in a safe welded to the floor, he still wouldn't feel comfortable lodging the killer in their home. "Well, let's hope he's still here in the morning."
It was risky, but they had to make due with what they had, and since the Bat Cave was never installed with a prison, an empty storage room with a decent lock would have to suffice. Bruce carried his captive into the room, and sat him down against the wall so he could remove the boxes of potentially dangerous goodies. He turned to Alfred as he carried out the boxes, stacking them outside the room. "Can you bring me down some bedding, Alfred?"
"Aiming to make his stay at Wayne Manor a cozy one, sir?" Alfred cocked his brow.
"Do you want to deal with him when he wakes up cranky in the morning?." Bruce managed a grin.
"...I'll go fetch a comforter." Alfred nodded and headed back upstairs.
Bruce sighed and removed his mask; it wouldn't do him any good here anymore, and besides, it was getting uncomfortable. He did feel slightly better now that he had some sort of plan as to what to do with the Joker. A short-term solution would be good enough for now.
He crept back into the storage room and over to the sleeping Joker. He knelt down slowly,closely observing his breathing patterns. Once he was certain he was still out cold, he leaned over him and began searching his pockets for any dangerous surprises. Bruce carefully reached into his purple jacket and found a knife in each pocket, clown make-up, and a small bottle of green hair gel. In his pants pocket he found more knives and a piece of chalk. Finally, he reached into his vest pocket, watching the Joker's face as he did to make sure he remained asleep, and pulled out a switch blade, a deck of cards, and what appeared to be pills of some sort.
The pills were tiny, off-white circles with no distinguishable markings on them. Bruce found it strange that they were loose in his pocket, without a bottle or any form of packaging to hold them. He wondered if they might help explain the Joker's odd behavior, so he shoved the pills into a box with the rest of his belongings, and carried them out of the room.
Alfred returned shortly after with a comforter, a pillow, and the thinnest, ugliest sheet he could find. He handed the bedding to Bruce, who could tell his butler didn't want to get too close to the clown. In return, he took the box holding the Joker's belongings. He peered into the box, and was not surprised that it was mostly filled with knives. "Suppose I should lock all his toys up in the safe then."
"Thank you, Alfred. I'll take it from here." Bruce smiled faintly. He knew Alfred felt uneasy about keeping the Joker here, but he was handling the situation pretty well. As his butler turned to leave, Bruce lowered his head again. "I'm sorry for dragging you into this..."
"I'm always here to help, sir." Alfred looked over his shoulder and grinned back at him. "Just don't stay down here too long. It'll be a bloody nightmare when he wakes up."
Bruce nodded and watched his butler disappear back upstairs into the warm mansion. He walked back into the storage room and laid out the bedding, spreading it out on the floor. Again, he looked over at the Joker to make sure he was still sound asleep. 'Guess it couldn't hurt to move him.' Gingerly, Bruce slid his arms under the smaller man's body and carefully shifted him onto the comforter. He threw the sheet over his sleeping form, not caring if he was fully covered or not. The bastard could tuck himself in; Bruce certainly wasn't doing that part.
Just then the Joker began to stir. Bruce tensed, ready to spring into action if the other woke up. He watched with bated breathe as the Joker nestled his head against the pillow. The smaller man sighed through his nose at new found softness, and in a few minutes his breathing slowed once more, and he was back sleeping peacefully.
Relieved, Bruce sighed and relaxed again. To be honest, he had enough fighting for one day; he just wanted to go to bed so he could think to himself in peace. He sat back, and for a moment just silently observed the other as he slept. His eyes scanned his features carefully, taking them in as if for the first time.
When his eyes were closed, the Joker's eyes looked like dark, empty pits because of his black make-up. He looked eerie, and yet, the way in which his green curls fell over his face, and how his red-painted lips pouted almost childishly in his sleep, made him look so peaceful and harmless.
It was strange, even fascinating for Bruce to see his enemy look so calm and quiet. For a moment, he wondered what the Joker would look like without all that ridiculous make-up. 'He probably wouldn't look so threatening...If only...' Quickly, Bruce stood up and pushed away the notion. He was beginning to weird himself out by thinking so much about the clown, and he decided it was definitely time for bed. He hastened out of the room and closed the door, locking it behind him before he headed out of the frigid cave, leaving the Joker alone in the dimly lit storage room.
---
His eyes snapped open and he immediately gripped his head in pain. It felt as though his skull had been split open, but it was the cold, and not the pain that woke him. Shivering, the Joker sat up, his eyes darting nervously around his new surroundings.
The room he was in was small and barren, and the only means of illumination was a small light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Still holding his head, he shakily rose to his feet. There were too many sensations at once: pain, cold, confusion, dizziness, disorientation, fear. The room was too small; the walls were closing in on him-he needed to get out!
The Joker's heart began to race, and he threw himself up against the door. He twisted the doorknob and shoved his body weight into it. It was locked. No surprise. Staggering back a bit, he glared at the door, then began kicking it over and over again. Nothing.
He panting, he running his hand through his green curls, and forced himself to calm down so he could rethink his strategy. Just then he realized something, and began searching his pockets for his knives. Everything was gone, right down to the piece of chalk hidden in his pant pocket.
Defeated, he plopped down on the floor, sitting cross-legged, and stared at the door intently. Above him, the light bulb began to dim. He looked up at it as it flicked on and off, and suddenly his lips curled into a grin. The Joker began laughing quietly to himself as the bulb slowly burned out, allowing the darkness to shroud him in shadows.
---
The alarm clock on the nightstand came blazing on at the crack of dawn, but Bruce was already wide awake. He walked out of the bathroom, dripping wet, and wrapped his bathrobe tightly around himself. He slammed his hand down on the clock to silence it, and sighed; he could not sleep at all last night. Every little sound made him think the Joker had somehow escaped and found his way into the mansion.
He brushed his fingers through his damp hair, scratching his scalp. 'Stop being so pathetic and go check on him.' He told himself as threw on some casual clothes. He decided he would go into the cave and prepare the new room before Alfred, and hopefully, the Joker woke up. There was no sense putting his faithful butler in danger over something he could easily do himself.
Bruce snuck back down to the Bat Cave, and spent the next hour working on the room. There wasn't all that much to do with it. The room was designed for him to hide out in for a few days in case of an emergency. It had a bed, a toilet, and a sink, and that was enough to keep the Joker alive in his opinion. The one thing it did need was a lock, which Bruce quickly remedied with a couple of power tools and a skillful hand.
Once it was done, and he was absolutely satisfied that the lock was tight and secure, he turned to the storage room door. Slowly, he approached it as if it were the gateway to hell. He unlocked the door and gripped the handle tightly, then after taking a moment to compose himself, opened it a few inches and peered in. 'What!?' Bruce's eyes immediately went wide.
The Joker wasn't there. The room was empty except for the makeshift bed and dark-eerily dark. Bruce opened the door even further and stepped in cautiously, his keen eyes scanning through the blackness for any sign of the madman.
Suddenly, the Joker sprung out from behind the door wielding a broken light bulb, and lunged at at him, teeth grit, eyes wild. Quickly, Bruce grabbed his wrist tightly, stopping it mid-air before he could get stabbed with the jagged glass. With all his might, he shoved the frantic Joker against the wall, holding both his arms securely above his head.
Panting heavily, the Joker glared daggers at him. Then, all of the sudden, there seemed to be a flash of recognition in those wild eyes, as if he just realized who Bruce was. His body relaxed, and he let the light bulb slip out of his hand to shatter on the floor. A grin crept across his face, and all at once he returned to his normal self. "Heh heh heh!... So, you've made your choice."
Bruce frowned and eased his grip when he felt him stop struggling. "I should've known you'd pull a stunt like this." He never thought anyone would turn a light bulb into a weapon. Then again, this was the Joker he was dealing with.
"And I should've known you wouldn't turn me in." The Joker smirked and licked his scars. Tilting his head to the side, his eyes trace over Bruce's features. "So...this is the face of Batman." He seemed amused to be face-to-face with Bruce Wayne for the first time. He never actually saw the man in person, only in the news. The Joker started snickering. "Hee hee hee... No wonder you wear a mask; without it you're just a pretty boy with a vendetta."
With a growl, Bruce grabbed the smaller man by shirt and threw him to the floor. "Mask or no mask, you sure seemed scared a moment ago," he muttered as he stepped over the clown. He took the Joker by the collar of his jacket and forcefully dragged him out of the storage room, across the damp cave, then threw him into his new room.
The Joker hit the floor and rolled over, laughing. "Oh-ho! You're definitely more fun without the mask, Brucey!" He got up and looked around the room curiously. It was bigger, had better lightening; it was no summer home, but he didn't feel as claustrophobic in it. He strolled over to the mattress and pressed his hand over it, testing its firmness. "Hmm... I get a bed this time!" He gave Bruce a smug look as he added, "will you come back again tonight to, uh, tuck. me. in?"
'That's the last time I'm ever helping him out.' Bruce twitched; next time he'd let the bastard freeze down here. "Now you listen to me, Joker. Just because I haven't turned you into the police, doesn't mean you're not a prisoner. You'll be staying in here from now on, under careful surveillance."
"Oh, yes. That'll solve everything!" The Joker clapped his hands together condescendingly. "Just lock me up and throw away the key!" His voice suddenly grew louder, more frantic. "All you have to do is feed me once and awhile-like a goldfish! Then sooner or later, you'll forget I'm down here, or stop caring, and when that happens, I'll die! But that won't be your fault-that won't be breaking your one rule! Because letting me die isn't the same as killing me! I am right?!" He suddenly yelled and launched himself onto Bruce.
Both men fell back and hit the floor hard. At first, Bruce was seeing stars when the back of his head thudded against the tiles, but he soon snapped out of it as the man on top of him tried to claw at his face. He caught the Joker's wrists in his hands before he could do any damage, and shoved the maniac off him, rolling them over, and pinning him down on the ground.
The Joker's eyes burned wildly with rage as he struggled against him, squirming around on the floor. He tried kicking him off, but Bruce pressed his knees into his legs to hold them down. Once the Joker realized it was futile, he stopped fighting back and just laid there, glaring spitefully at his enemy.
Bruce stared down at him for a long time. He did not understand what just happened; he never saw the man so wild and unpredictable before. Before yesterday, he had only caught glimpses of what the Joker was like from their brief encounters. After spending a few hours alone with him, he began to see different sides of the man-the wild and desperate sides. He began to see realize how truly disturbed this man really was.
The Joker was right about one thing though; he couldn't just leave him in the cave under his mansion forever. Just one night alone in the storage room was enough to make the clown have a break down. Bruce looked into those furious burning green eyes, and saw within them hints of fear and confusion. He decided he needed to try different approach. "I won't kill you..." he began in a calm voice, hoping it would get the maniac to settle down, "but I won't let you die in here either..."
Those words completely caught the Joker off guard, and he felt his cheeks flush under his face paint. He just laid there blinking while Bruce got up, and he watched silently as his enemy walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Only when he heard his foot steps fade away into the distance, did he sit up.
Alone again, his mind was free to wander. Joker thought about Bruce's words. He wondered what kind of man Bruce Wayne was, and if he really was Batman. After all, Batman would never had said those things to him. As he thought, he licked his lips then suddenly smirked. "Looks like things will start to get a little... interesting."
He got up and started to explore his new room, touching everything, looking for something to help him escape. He examined everything he was given: the bed, the toilet, the sink, with a critical eye. "Hm..." He approached the bed first, knelt down, and crawled underneath it. His hand searched the underside of the mattress until he found a rip in the fabric. With a smirk, he shoved his hands through the rip and tore through the bottom of the mattress, pulling out some foam and metal springs from within it.
Next, he stalked over to the sink, plugged up the drain and turned the faucet on full blast. As the sink filled with water, he then set his sights on the toilet. He took the whole roll of toilet paper and shoved it into the bowl, then threw in the mattress foam and some springs before he flushed it. Laughing maniacally, he continued flushing until it overflowed, water leaking out onto the floor.
The Joker grinned, watching as more and more water spilled out from the faucet and toilet, spreading across the floor. He sat in the corner, away from the liquid and began uncoiling one of the metal springs into wire, giggling mischievously to himself.
---
Once Bruce was safely back upstairs in his father's study, he heaved a sigh of relief. He didn't know how much longer he could survive these unpredictable encounters with that madman downstairs. He placed his hands over his face and rubbed his temples. When had things started to go so downhill for him? There used to be a time when he was so on top of things, when he knew exactly what to do, but now he was constantly doubting himself. It probably had something to do with Rachel's death... Bruce felt the same after he failed her.
"Master Wayne?" Alfred poked his head into the study. "Are you alright, sir?" He was carrying a tray of breakfast and a slip of paper.
Bruce jumped a bit in surprise, and pulled his hands away from his face. "Yeah... I was just making sure our guest hadn't escaped." He motioned to the piece of paper in his butler's hand. "What's that?"
"Ah, well I went ahead and ran a test on those pills our friend had on him, and these are the results." Alfred handed him the paper, and as Bruce's eyes carefully studied it, he summed it up for him. "It's an antipsychotic medication called Clozapine, used only in treatment-resistant schizophrenics..."
"It's proscription..." Bruce mused. "Must be what they were drugging him with in Arkham." There had been no doubt in his mind that the Joker was crazy, but it didn't feel right to pass off such insanity as a mere disorder. A disorder meant that he couldn't help the way he was, that his behavior was out of his hands, that it wasn't truly his fault. That was bullshit. The Joker knew exactly what he was doing when he tormented people, and he enjoyed every second of it.
"I doubt he was taking them at all; he had a whole pocket full of them. I'd venture to guess he was hiding them from the doctors." Alfred then handed him the plate with eggs, bacon, and toast on it. "I was going to have you run this down for our guest, but seeing how you just came back up, I think you ought to take a break and eat first."
Bruce nodded and took the plate from him. "Thank you, Alfred. I'll give him some time to settle down before I go back down there..."
Alfred took note of how brained Bruce seemed. "Did you give you any trouble, sir?"
"Hmph. I'll say; he attacked me with a broken light bulb." Bruce couldn't help but chuckle. It sounded so funny to say out loud.
Alfred blinked. "A light bulb you say?"
"Yeah, talk about desperate..." Bruce stared off into space for a moment, once again thinking about the clown downstairs-the bizarre way he acted before. The Joker had seemed bent on killing him, but for some reason stopped. 'Did he not realize it was me when I entered the room? Did he think I handed him over to the police or even the mob?'
"Just lock me up and throw away the key! All you have to do is feed me once and awhile... Sooner or later, you'll forget I'm down here, and when that happens, I'll die!"
Bruce frowned and looked guiltily down at the plate of food. "On second thought, I should probably get this to him... I don't want him tearing up that room."
Alfred nodded. "Alright, sir. Maybe you could ask him why he's caring a whole pharmacy in his pockets while you're down there... Just watch out for light bulbs."
Bruce grinned and walked over to the piano, playing the specific keys that opened the secret bookshelf entrance. "Will do." He headed into the lift and rode it all the way back down into the cave.
As he neared the Joker's room, Bruce could make out the sound of running water. He stopped.Something immediately didn't sit right with him. Suddenly, he heard the Joker cry out in pain from behind the door. Dropping the plate on the ground, Bruce sprinted to the door, unlocked it, and rushed inside. The second he ran inside, he slipped and fell on his back into a large puddle of water. As Bruce groaned and struggled to sit up, he suddenly felt something cold and metallic wrap around his neck, constricting him.
The Joker leaned over his shoulder and snickered as he twisted what appeared to be a manipulated mattress spring tighter and tighter around Bruce's windpipe. "Su-rpiiiise...!" He purred into his ear.
To Be Continued...
(A/N): I am absolutely thrilled to get such positive feedback from all you guys! It's good to see that this pairing is as popular deserves to be <3
Fun fact: Clozapine, the drug mentioned in the story, is a real drug proscribed to schizophrenic patients who have failed to respond to at least two other antipsychotic drugs. It the most effective drug for schizophrenics, but is used as a last resort due to a number of potentially lethal side-effects. I found a little info about the drug while doing some research on schizophrenia (I'm such a sap for psychology), and it sounded like the type of drug doctors would use to dope up the Joker. Anyway, just thought it was interesting and wanted to point that out.
Wew! Cliff hanger! Thought it would be an interesting place to stop for now, but I will update shortly after the Holiday so~ Happy Turkey Day guys! :D
Author: Cainxtheworld
Rating: NC-17 (eventually)
Universe: Nolanverse (post TDK)
Summary: [BRUCExJOKER SLASH!] The Joker knows Batman's true identity. Now, Bruce must his break his one rule to protect his secret, or find some way get through to the madman before it's too late. Can Bruce see past the make-up and find the man behind the insanity?
Behind Insanity
.2.
The Tower
The Tower Card in Tarot symbolizes a dramatic change in one's life, a disruption of routines, or new conflict. It represents ruin and disturbance, a dramatic upheaval, a change in tides...
"Alfred, I need your help..." Bruce's eyes pleaded with his butler.
The sight of the seemingly lifeless Joker hanging limp in Master Wayne's arms, made the hairs on the back of Alfred's neck prick up and a chill run down his spine. Immediately, his mind turned to the worst case scenario. "Is he... dead, sir?"
"No, just unconscious..." Bruce almost wished he were dead. He had a feeling his butler would have taken that better than the truth. He glanced back down at the thinner man he was holding, just to make sure he really was still asleep. Bruce was pretty on edge at this point, half-expecting the clown to wake up at any moment, and attack him like some wild animal. But the Joker remained completely still, breathing slowly.
Now Alfred was just as tense as Bruce, knowing that the madman was only sleeping. Now he saw the maniac as a ticking time bomb, ready to spring out from Bruce's arms and start destroying the place. He frowned. "Why have you brought him here?" It was strange, almost disturbing for Alfred to see his master holding the nastiest criminal in all of Gothham in his arms like a fair damsel.
Bruce shamefully lowered his head. He didn't want to admit it, he didn't know how to admit it. He lost Rachel, he lost Harvey, and now he felt as though he had lost a piece of himself. "He knows, Alfred..." He muttered under his breathe. At this point, his voice had lost all the strength and confidence it exuded when he took on the persona of Batman.
Judging by this master's tone, Alfred could tell exactly what he was implying. He knew this day would come, that eventually someone would figure it out; he just never expected this lunatic to be the one to do it. "Bloody hell... You do need help." The old butler shook his head. "I'm sorry, sir, but I don't know what to tell you. This is not a man that can be negotiated with..."
"I know that, Alfred... I just... I just didn't know what else to do, so I brought him here." Bruce sighed. Even though Alfred always seemed to have the right answers, Bruce didn't expect him to have the solution for this problem. He was beginning to doubt there even was a solution to this problem.
"The cave is not equipped for holding prisoners of his lot, sir." Alfred did not want that thing staying in the mansion. "If he ever got out, all hell would break loose and you know it."
Bruce mulled over his words for a moment then looked up. "...I have to take that risk." He walked towards one of the open storage rooms and looked inside. It was a pretty plain room, small, perfectly square, empty save for a few boxes full of various supplies. "We can hold him in here if we clear it out. It's not much, but it'll do until I can prepare another room with a lock in the morning."
Alfred eyed the room wearily. Even if they locked the Joker in a safe welded to the floor, he still wouldn't feel comfortable lodging the killer in their home. "Well, let's hope he's still here in the morning."
It was risky, but they had to make due with what they had, and since the Bat Cave was never installed with a prison, an empty storage room with a decent lock would have to suffice. Bruce carried his captive into the room, and sat him down against the wall so he could remove the boxes of potentially dangerous goodies. He turned to Alfred as he carried out the boxes, stacking them outside the room. "Can you bring me down some bedding, Alfred?"
"Aiming to make his stay at Wayne Manor a cozy one, sir?" Alfred cocked his brow.
"Do you want to deal with him when he wakes up cranky in the morning?." Bruce managed a grin.
"...I'll go fetch a comforter." Alfred nodded and headed back upstairs.
Bruce sighed and removed his mask; it wouldn't do him any good here anymore, and besides, it was getting uncomfortable. He did feel slightly better now that he had some sort of plan as to what to do with the Joker. A short-term solution would be good enough for now.
He crept back into the storage room and over to the sleeping Joker. He knelt down slowly,closely observing his breathing patterns. Once he was certain he was still out cold, he leaned over him and began searching his pockets for any dangerous surprises. Bruce carefully reached into his purple jacket and found a knife in each pocket, clown make-up, and a small bottle of green hair gel. In his pants pocket he found more knives and a piece of chalk. Finally, he reached into his vest pocket, watching the Joker's face as he did to make sure he remained asleep, and pulled out a switch blade, a deck of cards, and what appeared to be pills of some sort.
The pills were tiny, off-white circles with no distinguishable markings on them. Bruce found it strange that they were loose in his pocket, without a bottle or any form of packaging to hold them. He wondered if they might help explain the Joker's odd behavior, so he shoved the pills into a box with the rest of his belongings, and carried them out of the room.
Alfred returned shortly after with a comforter, a pillow, and the thinnest, ugliest sheet he could find. He handed the bedding to Bruce, who could tell his butler didn't want to get too close to the clown. In return, he took the box holding the Joker's belongings. He peered into the box, and was not surprised that it was mostly filled with knives. "Suppose I should lock all his toys up in the safe then."
"Thank you, Alfred. I'll take it from here." Bruce smiled faintly. He knew Alfred felt uneasy about keeping the Joker here, but he was handling the situation pretty well. As his butler turned to leave, Bruce lowered his head again. "I'm sorry for dragging you into this..."
"I'm always here to help, sir." Alfred looked over his shoulder and grinned back at him. "Just don't stay down here too long. It'll be a bloody nightmare when he wakes up."
Bruce nodded and watched his butler disappear back upstairs into the warm mansion. He walked back into the storage room and laid out the bedding, spreading it out on the floor. Again, he looked over at the Joker to make sure he was still sound asleep. 'Guess it couldn't hurt to move him.' Gingerly, Bruce slid his arms under the smaller man's body and carefully shifted him onto the comforter. He threw the sheet over his sleeping form, not caring if he was fully covered or not. The bastard could tuck himself in; Bruce certainly wasn't doing that part.
Just then the Joker began to stir. Bruce tensed, ready to spring into action if the other woke up. He watched with bated breathe as the Joker nestled his head against the pillow. The smaller man sighed through his nose at new found softness, and in a few minutes his breathing slowed once more, and he was back sleeping peacefully.
Relieved, Bruce sighed and relaxed again. To be honest, he had enough fighting for one day; he just wanted to go to bed so he could think to himself in peace. He sat back, and for a moment just silently observed the other as he slept. His eyes scanned his features carefully, taking them in as if for the first time.
When his eyes were closed, the Joker's eyes looked like dark, empty pits because of his black make-up. He looked eerie, and yet, the way in which his green curls fell over his face, and how his red-painted lips pouted almost childishly in his sleep, made him look so peaceful and harmless.
It was strange, even fascinating for Bruce to see his enemy look so calm and quiet. For a moment, he wondered what the Joker would look like without all that ridiculous make-up. 'He probably wouldn't look so threatening...If only...' Quickly, Bruce stood up and pushed away the notion. He was beginning to weird himself out by thinking so much about the clown, and he decided it was definitely time for bed. He hastened out of the room and closed the door, locking it behind him before he headed out of the frigid cave, leaving the Joker alone in the dimly lit storage room.
---
His eyes snapped open and he immediately gripped his head in pain. It felt as though his skull had been split open, but it was the cold, and not the pain that woke him. Shivering, the Joker sat up, his eyes darting nervously around his new surroundings.
The room he was in was small and barren, and the only means of illumination was a small light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Still holding his head, he shakily rose to his feet. There were too many sensations at once: pain, cold, confusion, dizziness, disorientation, fear. The room was too small; the walls were closing in on him-he needed to get out!
The Joker's heart began to race, and he threw himself up against the door. He twisted the doorknob and shoved his body weight into it. It was locked. No surprise. Staggering back a bit, he glared at the door, then began kicking it over and over again. Nothing.
He panting, he running his hand through his green curls, and forced himself to calm down so he could rethink his strategy. Just then he realized something, and began searching his pockets for his knives. Everything was gone, right down to the piece of chalk hidden in his pant pocket.
Defeated, he plopped down on the floor, sitting cross-legged, and stared at the door intently. Above him, the light bulb began to dim. He looked up at it as it flicked on and off, and suddenly his lips curled into a grin. The Joker began laughing quietly to himself as the bulb slowly burned out, allowing the darkness to shroud him in shadows.
---
The alarm clock on the nightstand came blazing on at the crack of dawn, but Bruce was already wide awake. He walked out of the bathroom, dripping wet, and wrapped his bathrobe tightly around himself. He slammed his hand down on the clock to silence it, and sighed; he could not sleep at all last night. Every little sound made him think the Joker had somehow escaped and found his way into the mansion.
He brushed his fingers through his damp hair, scratching his scalp. 'Stop being so pathetic and go check on him.' He told himself as threw on some casual clothes. He decided he would go into the cave and prepare the new room before Alfred, and hopefully, the Joker woke up. There was no sense putting his faithful butler in danger over something he could easily do himself.
Bruce snuck back down to the Bat Cave, and spent the next hour working on the room. There wasn't all that much to do with it. The room was designed for him to hide out in for a few days in case of an emergency. It had a bed, a toilet, and a sink, and that was enough to keep the Joker alive in his opinion. The one thing it did need was a lock, which Bruce quickly remedied with a couple of power tools and a skillful hand.
Once it was done, and he was absolutely satisfied that the lock was tight and secure, he turned to the storage room door. Slowly, he approached it as if it were the gateway to hell. He unlocked the door and gripped the handle tightly, then after taking a moment to compose himself, opened it a few inches and peered in. 'What!?' Bruce's eyes immediately went wide.
The Joker wasn't there. The room was empty except for the makeshift bed and dark-eerily dark. Bruce opened the door even further and stepped in cautiously, his keen eyes scanning through the blackness for any sign of the madman.
Suddenly, the Joker sprung out from behind the door wielding a broken light bulb, and lunged at at him, teeth grit, eyes wild. Quickly, Bruce grabbed his wrist tightly, stopping it mid-air before he could get stabbed with the jagged glass. With all his might, he shoved the frantic Joker against the wall, holding both his arms securely above his head.
Panting heavily, the Joker glared daggers at him. Then, all of the sudden, there seemed to be a flash of recognition in those wild eyes, as if he just realized who Bruce was. His body relaxed, and he let the light bulb slip out of his hand to shatter on the floor. A grin crept across his face, and all at once he returned to his normal self. "Heh heh heh!... So, you've made your choice."
Bruce frowned and eased his grip when he felt him stop struggling. "I should've known you'd pull a stunt like this." He never thought anyone would turn a light bulb into a weapon. Then again, this was the Joker he was dealing with.
"And I should've known you wouldn't turn me in." The Joker smirked and licked his scars. Tilting his head to the side, his eyes trace over Bruce's features. "So...this is the face of Batman." He seemed amused to be face-to-face with Bruce Wayne for the first time. He never actually saw the man in person, only in the news. The Joker started snickering. "Hee hee hee... No wonder you wear a mask; without it you're just a pretty boy with a vendetta."
With a growl, Bruce grabbed the smaller man by shirt and threw him to the floor. "Mask or no mask, you sure seemed scared a moment ago," he muttered as he stepped over the clown. He took the Joker by the collar of his jacket and forcefully dragged him out of the storage room, across the damp cave, then threw him into his new room.
The Joker hit the floor and rolled over, laughing. "Oh-ho! You're definitely more fun without the mask, Brucey!" He got up and looked around the room curiously. It was bigger, had better lightening; it was no summer home, but he didn't feel as claustrophobic in it. He strolled over to the mattress and pressed his hand over it, testing its firmness. "Hmm... I get a bed this time!" He gave Bruce a smug look as he added, "will you come back again tonight to, uh, tuck. me. in?"
'That's the last time I'm ever helping him out.' Bruce twitched; next time he'd let the bastard freeze down here. "Now you listen to me, Joker. Just because I haven't turned you into the police, doesn't mean you're not a prisoner. You'll be staying in here from now on, under careful surveillance."
"Oh, yes. That'll solve everything!" The Joker clapped his hands together condescendingly. "Just lock me up and throw away the key!" His voice suddenly grew louder, more frantic. "All you have to do is feed me once and awhile-like a goldfish! Then sooner or later, you'll forget I'm down here, or stop caring, and when that happens, I'll die! But that won't be your fault-that won't be breaking your one rule! Because letting me die isn't the same as killing me! I am right?!" He suddenly yelled and launched himself onto Bruce.
Both men fell back and hit the floor hard. At first, Bruce was seeing stars when the back of his head thudded against the tiles, but he soon snapped out of it as the man on top of him tried to claw at his face. He caught the Joker's wrists in his hands before he could do any damage, and shoved the maniac off him, rolling them over, and pinning him down on the ground.
The Joker's eyes burned wildly with rage as he struggled against him, squirming around on the floor. He tried kicking him off, but Bruce pressed his knees into his legs to hold them down. Once the Joker realized it was futile, he stopped fighting back and just laid there, glaring spitefully at his enemy.
Bruce stared down at him for a long time. He did not understand what just happened; he never saw the man so wild and unpredictable before. Before yesterday, he had only caught glimpses of what the Joker was like from their brief encounters. After spending a few hours alone with him, he began to see different sides of the man-the wild and desperate sides. He began to see realize how truly disturbed this man really was.
The Joker was right about one thing though; he couldn't just leave him in the cave under his mansion forever. Just one night alone in the storage room was enough to make the clown have a break down. Bruce looked into those furious burning green eyes, and saw within them hints of fear and confusion. He decided he needed to try different approach. "I won't kill you..." he began in a calm voice, hoping it would get the maniac to settle down, "but I won't let you die in here either..."
Those words completely caught the Joker off guard, and he felt his cheeks flush under his face paint. He just laid there blinking while Bruce got up, and he watched silently as his enemy walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Only when he heard his foot steps fade away into the distance, did he sit up.
Alone again, his mind was free to wander. Joker thought about Bruce's words. He wondered what kind of man Bruce Wayne was, and if he really was Batman. After all, Batman would never had said those things to him. As he thought, he licked his lips then suddenly smirked. "Looks like things will start to get a little... interesting."
He got up and started to explore his new room, touching everything, looking for something to help him escape. He examined everything he was given: the bed, the toilet, the sink, with a critical eye. "Hm..." He approached the bed first, knelt down, and crawled underneath it. His hand searched the underside of the mattress until he found a rip in the fabric. With a smirk, he shoved his hands through the rip and tore through the bottom of the mattress, pulling out some foam and metal springs from within it.
Next, he stalked over to the sink, plugged up the drain and turned the faucet on full blast. As the sink filled with water, he then set his sights on the toilet. He took the whole roll of toilet paper and shoved it into the bowl, then threw in the mattress foam and some springs before he flushed it. Laughing maniacally, he continued flushing until it overflowed, water leaking out onto the floor.
The Joker grinned, watching as more and more water spilled out from the faucet and toilet, spreading across the floor. He sat in the corner, away from the liquid and began uncoiling one of the metal springs into wire, giggling mischievously to himself.
---
Once Bruce was safely back upstairs in his father's study, he heaved a sigh of relief. He didn't know how much longer he could survive these unpredictable encounters with that madman downstairs. He placed his hands over his face and rubbed his temples. When had things started to go so downhill for him? There used to be a time when he was so on top of things, when he knew exactly what to do, but now he was constantly doubting himself. It probably had something to do with Rachel's death... Bruce felt the same after he failed her.
"Master Wayne?" Alfred poked his head into the study. "Are you alright, sir?" He was carrying a tray of breakfast and a slip of paper.
Bruce jumped a bit in surprise, and pulled his hands away from his face. "Yeah... I was just making sure our guest hadn't escaped." He motioned to the piece of paper in his butler's hand. "What's that?"
"Ah, well I went ahead and ran a test on those pills our friend had on him, and these are the results." Alfred handed him the paper, and as Bruce's eyes carefully studied it, he summed it up for him. "It's an antipsychotic medication called Clozapine, used only in treatment-resistant schizophrenics..."
"It's proscription..." Bruce mused. "Must be what they were drugging him with in Arkham." There had been no doubt in his mind that the Joker was crazy, but it didn't feel right to pass off such insanity as a mere disorder. A disorder meant that he couldn't help the way he was, that his behavior was out of his hands, that it wasn't truly his fault. That was bullshit. The Joker knew exactly what he was doing when he tormented people, and he enjoyed every second of it.
"I doubt he was taking them at all; he had a whole pocket full of them. I'd venture to guess he was hiding them from the doctors." Alfred then handed him the plate with eggs, bacon, and toast on it. "I was going to have you run this down for our guest, but seeing how you just came back up, I think you ought to take a break and eat first."
Bruce nodded and took the plate from him. "Thank you, Alfred. I'll give him some time to settle down before I go back down there..."
Alfred took note of how brained Bruce seemed. "Did you give you any trouble, sir?"
"Hmph. I'll say; he attacked me with a broken light bulb." Bruce couldn't help but chuckle. It sounded so funny to say out loud.
Alfred blinked. "A light bulb you say?"
"Yeah, talk about desperate..." Bruce stared off into space for a moment, once again thinking about the clown downstairs-the bizarre way he acted before. The Joker had seemed bent on killing him, but for some reason stopped. 'Did he not realize it was me when I entered the room? Did he think I handed him over to the police or even the mob?'
"Just lock me up and throw away the key! All you have to do is feed me once and awhile... Sooner or later, you'll forget I'm down here, and when that happens, I'll die!"
Bruce frowned and looked guiltily down at the plate of food. "On second thought, I should probably get this to him... I don't want him tearing up that room."
Alfred nodded. "Alright, sir. Maybe you could ask him why he's caring a whole pharmacy in his pockets while you're down there... Just watch out for light bulbs."
Bruce grinned and walked over to the piano, playing the specific keys that opened the secret bookshelf entrance. "Will do." He headed into the lift and rode it all the way back down into the cave.
As he neared the Joker's room, Bruce could make out the sound of running water. He stopped.Something immediately didn't sit right with him. Suddenly, he heard the Joker cry out in pain from behind the door. Dropping the plate on the ground, Bruce sprinted to the door, unlocked it, and rushed inside. The second he ran inside, he slipped and fell on his back into a large puddle of water. As Bruce groaned and struggled to sit up, he suddenly felt something cold and metallic wrap around his neck, constricting him.
The Joker leaned over his shoulder and snickered as he twisted what appeared to be a manipulated mattress spring tighter and tighter around Bruce's windpipe. "Su-rpiiiise...!" He purred into his ear.
To Be Continued...
(A/N): I am absolutely thrilled to get such positive feedback from all you guys! It's good to see that this pairing is as popular deserves to be <3
Fun fact: Clozapine, the drug mentioned in the story, is a real drug proscribed to schizophrenic patients who have failed to respond to at least two other antipsychotic drugs. It the most effective drug for schizophrenics, but is used as a last resort due to a number of potentially lethal side-effects. I found a little info about the drug while doing some research on schizophrenia (I'm such a sap for psychology), and it sounded like the type of drug doctors would use to dope up the Joker. Anyway, just thought it was interesting and wanted to point that out.
Wew! Cliff hanger! Thought it would be an interesting place to stop for now, but I will update shortly after the Holiday so~ Happy Turkey Day guys! :D