Secret Santa Challenge [fic]- Prompt: 56
Title: Gone
Author: Medorikoi
Fandom: TDK/DCU
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I own…a growing comic book collection but none of the characters inside! I also give full ownership to the final quote to the author of “Batman The Killing Joke”
Warnings: dark, insanity, violence, I mean it is Batman and the Joker after all….
Prompt: 56!
" The Joker's dead. That much is clear. Batman doesn't remember if he did it or not, but the Joker is still here, he is... Stretch out fingers, gloved or bare, he can almost touch him--but why, why can no one else see him, hear him cackle, hear him jeer, him philosophize? The Joker is dead...and Batman's losing his mind.”
A/N: You do need to know that in the DC universe Jason Todd (Robin II) is beaten to death with a crowbar by the Joker. O.O ouch. To the author of the prompt…I hope you like it! If not please tell me, I have way more ideas and I want you to be happy!
I don’t know how I got here, I don’t know how long I have been here or why this happened. But I can see why I am here. The hospital room is sterile and white, but all I can smell under the antiseptic is death, and Jason Todd is in the middle of it. I almost miss him beneath the mesh of tubes and wires, the bandages tenuously holding him together, my broken Robin. But the monitors are bleating, and the chart I steal documents severe trauma but the prognosis is good. He might live.
I leave without looking at his collapsed face, I don’t want to see how the metal shattered the fragile bones, I don’t want to look for the shape of a crowbar in his once unmarred flesh. I almost pause as I leap out the window. I know that he was beaten to the point of death; I know I saw it happen…but I don’t remember any of it.
I have to keep going, I cannot remember who did this to Robin, I have no way of knowing if I am still in danger and until I do everyone is a threat. The Batmobile is only a few alleys away, hiding in its usual spot for this area of Gotham and I do not look back as I drive away. I send a message to Alfred, I don’t even know if I told him about Jason yet so I don’t call, nothing can be gained by flaunting what I do not know.
I keep driving. Anywhere. Nowhere. It doesn’t matter. I just need…I feel wrong. Off. Like something in me has broken, permanently. Irreparably. Some part of me has shattered and left a hole inside of me where it once existed, its edges barbed and vicious. Feel? I feel off? No. What I need to do is start thinking rationally. I need to run tests. If I have been compromised I need to test for drugs, I need to find a cure, I need to know what to expect, I need to stop this.
My mind feels muddled and slow, like walking through water and the blood running through my veins feels just as sluggish, thick with ice. There is a fog in my mind, making the world far off and unreal. I need to get back to the cave, but the car has stopped and without thinking I slip into the bitter winter night. If I drove here it might be my subconscious mind remembering something, prompting me, or it could be a trap. A risk I have to take.
My parents’ cemetery. I know the path by heart, I don’t need to see their names etched into the stone to know where they lay but I brush the ice away just to see. After all these years… the image I have in my mind of them has become this. Not their faces, remembered only with the matte of still paintings, nor the voices lost to time, but this cold unfeeling stone. Father was a name cut from Marble, Mother was the sculptured angel that stood on top. Stone was the only family left to a lost child, the only thing left to love.
I do not sit against their names, too intimate, too tortured. I sit against the back of the headstone, gazing as I have a million times down the path of frozen brown earth, watching the grey world. I know this place, the playground of my childhood, but this time that feeling of a broken world catches me. If this is a trap the person that did this to me knows who I am, who I pretend to be in the garish light of day. If it is a memory…a new memory of an old cemetery, I need to find out what has been done. What they may have done. What I may have done.
The rocks don’t trip me up as I run through the night, not knowing where I am destined to be does not slow my feet, for once my brain has been deemed useless, I walk without understanding, mindless. My own personalized version of hell. A world I cannot decipher or comprehend. But I know this place still. I stop at the mouth of a cave, hidden by the brush and rocks, found only by those looking for it, those
with the eye to find the system of caves that run through Gotham.
I know this is where I should be. Memories more recent than I should know are pushing at the gates of my closed mind, tearing, painful, unreachable. Being here feels more right than being with Jason in the hospital, then waiting as the Bat outside the window or playing human with Alfred in the waiting room. I need this. It is here that I will find my answers. Close. I just need…
“Bats!” He sat on the roof of the cave, his legs swinging in and out if the entranceway like a child. “I knew you would come!” He smiled.
The air is frozen, it burns the exposed portion of my face, the moisture on my lips, my throat in frozen with it, my lungs sear but the Joker sits there is nothing but his suit smiling at me, laughing as the killing wind brushed past his hair without tangling a single strand. Yes. It felt right.
“What am I doing here?”
He pouted. “Aww Bats you mean you came all this way and you don’t even know?! All that beautiful violence we shared together and you don’t remember a lick of it?”
“You hurt Robin.” The Joker with a crowbar. An abandoned warehouse. He could see it, hear Jason’s screams.
He pouted again but it was almost a laugh, he jumped down like a cat, his feet made no sound as he touched the ground, he left no print. “But it was only Bird Boy number 2! And after all that trouble the brat is going to live. It’s almost embarrassing.”
“How do you know how he is?” Better. He was thinking again. The world felt real again. The Joker was standing in front of him and the hollowness disappeared, he felt strong, intelligent, unyielding. himself once more. This is where he needed to be.
The Joker ignored him, his lips drawn down even more, overly dramatic and completely at ease, his own private performance. “If it had been Boy Toy the first that would have at least been something…what is his name? Dick? Your bouncing baby Orphan?” He clucked his tongue against his teeth, shaking his head and looked up at his with a lecherous smile, acid green eyes staring into him. “What an unfortunate name for such a flexible boy.”
Batman’s heart lurched. The memories flooded over him, took over his mind. He could see Robin being beaten, the blood streaming from him, the screaming. But it was not Jason he had thought of as the metal shattered fragile bones, destroyed his young body, it was his predecessor, his almost son. “How do you know about Dick?” His voice was a roar. His eyes darted around the area, the Joker had no way to escape when it came down to a fight, they were closed in. The memories whirled around him, more blood, it covered everything, the world was stained with it, splattered against the walls in violent strokes, pooling crimson on the floor, devastated bodies falling apart in his hands but it wasn’t just Jason…
“Oh Bats I really am hurt you forgot all about what happened between us! Was I your first?” He stopped pacing; he looked at Batman like he was the only thing left in the universe for him. “ I’m surprised! A big scary guy like you. I know everything you know…and apparently more…Brucie.”
He was compromised. Dick. Jason. Alfred. All of them. It was over. The Joker must have seen his face drop because he began laughing again. It was cold and tinkling, it haunted his sleep, echoed in his mind forever, the voice of the evil within them all.
“Don’t worry so much Batsy Babe! I won’t tell a soul! I can’t!” His laugh continued but it was breaking, manic lunatic laughter was becoming deep, chocked with melancholy, almost a…sob. “I always told you that you were the only one for me! You complete me! And now…you’re the only one who can see me!” The smile was gone, the pout was gone, and for the first time Batman could see beneath the Jokers mask, he could see the cracks, the cold sanity …the mortality.
“Liar!” He growled the word but he did not believe it. His mind was sharp, he was not drug-addled, he was not compromised. Something had happened. Something terrible had happened to them both.
“You’ll see. Just look.”
“Batman!” That voice…
“Bruce.” Nightwing had both hands on his shoulders, alive and warm and real, not smashed like Jason. He was worried. “What are you doing here? What happened? Alfred called me and told me what happened. He said you disappeared.”
“Jason?” Dick was standing right there like he couldn’t even see the Joker standing next to him. Bruce kept his eyes trained on Dick.
“They think he is going to make it.”
The Joker stepped closer, his chest was barely an inch from Nightwings arm, he was looking back and forth between the vigilantes, his smile had not returned, it was as if the reality that Bruce gained here he stole from the Joker. He looked lost…human.
“You saved him. He should have died. He was meant to die.” The Jokers words were little more than a breath, in his ear, haunting, true.
His heart was racing, he could hear pounding in his ears, rushing, drowning out everything else like a war cry, the beat of a drum. Nightwing could not see the Joker. He had not been lying.
“Bruce?” The worry in his eyes intensified. He had forgotten to respond.
“Go.” The tortured voice came again, not laughing now. Bruce almost looked into the Jokers eyes but he caught himself, he could not have Dick suspect. He needed to be able to fix this. “Go with him. I need you to figure out what happened and if you play this wrong you are going to be spending some quality time with my associates in Arkham.” He laughed now as if remembering himself, his hand reached out to Batman’s cheek but pulled away teasingly. “Come on Honey Cakes, lie to him.”
“Are you hurt?” Why did Dicks worried voice seem distant compared to the Jokers? Less real? Batman closed his eyes. He did not want to leave, he could still get answers here but the Joker was right. If Dick thought he had finally lost it he would try to stop him, try to protect him. He had to do this alone.
“No.” He opened his eyes and the Joker was gone, the only way out was behind him, blocked by their bodies. “I am fine.” The world pulled strangely and a fog descended over his mind. Next time he would turn off his locater.
Dick was hovering over him, he couldn’t work like this and the haze had returned fully his mind, the weight of it grew more intense by the moment. What could this be? Why was this happening? If only Jason would wake up and tell him what had happened. What this all meant. He could not concentrate, his mind was getting worse. What if this was progressive? What if they only had a certain amount of time? What if this debilitating mental freeze was permanent?
Bruce returned to the Batcave, Dick followed him but said nothing, just watching. He was worried, Bruce understood but it frustrated him. He needed to go back to the cemetery…
“Come on Brucy! Master Detective. Still no ideas?” The Joker was leaning against the computer consol, only a foot away from his own hand. “It was beautiful, I can tell you that. No what I would have chosen but…beautiful.” He smiled wistfully. “All that passion. I must have been your first!” He giggled lewdly.
Batman almost sighed in relief. All his mental capacities returned to him in a rush with the Jokers presence. He felt alive.
“You are not here. It is impossible.” His voice was a whisper, he felt foolish when the Jokers voice rang clear as a bell through the cave but Dick was training close by, watching him.
“But I am!” He smiled again, his laugh was less twisted now, almost innocent. “Just for you Bats! You like it when I am around don’t you? You want to know what I think?” He leaned closer; he tipped his body to lean in purposefully in front of the monitor. His voice became a conspiritual whisper. “I complete you.”
Batman gasped for air. He felt sharp, brilliant, unhindered, alive. More than human. The closer they got the more reality made sense. If he could just get closer, if he could touch him maybe he could finally understand…
He reached up to the Jokers cheek before he could move.
“NO!” The Joker yelled, pulled back but it was too late. Batman saw his hand go through his cheek like nothing was there.
“no.”
And then the Joker was gone and with him left Batmans sanity, him mind, his brilliance. He needed….
“Dick.” Nightwing was by his side in a second. “We should be with Jason.”
The boy looked relived; even though Batmans heart was pounding and he could not think, only act, follow his mindless body, he was relived as well. He needed to appear normal, normal as he could ever be. He needed to deceive Dick just once more, so rational, the child he had formed in his own style, he simply wouldn’t understand.
“Get dressed and head over. I need to go collect some evidence and I will follow.”
“Batm- Bruce.”
“Go.” Even now there was no further argument, the moment he disappeared Bruce was running then driving as fast as he could, his locator left in the cave blinking on the console.
It felt like he was drunk. He could react, could function but everything that comprised him as gone. Without the Joker Batman was dead. He stumbled out of the car and towards the cave, brushing past his parents’ grave for the first time in his life without a glance, without pain. The Joker was waiting for him with that same sad smile in the clearing next to the little cave.
“So you figured it out?”
“The only thing I figured out is I need you.” Batman closed his eyes, not wanting to see when his hand passed through the others chest. Like a drug he was okay again, alive. Before he had felt like he was losing control but now he was himself again. If only he could touch him, touch real flesh then maybe he would lose this dependence, maybe everything would be alright. He felt more alive than he had since…ever. His parents death had taken something from him and now he was getting that back. Stone father. Angel mother.
“Poor Bats you couldn’t handle what you did. You based your whole life on one rule and then you broke it.”
“No.” But he could see it now. Blood. Everywhere blood.
“You took the crowbar from me and you made sure I would never hurt anyone again.”
“NO!” Screaming. Pleading. The thick crunch of skull meeting metal, the feel of it in his hands. The screaming stopped.
“But I forgive you! I made you do it! I could not break the bird but I broke you! You complete me!”
“NO!” He opened his eyes and the Joker was gone. The world was fading; he was losing his mind, too much this time, too fast. There wouldn’t be anything left… He scrambled into the cave. Dark and cold, an icebox, distant to his fading mind, necessary. And then he felt it. A hand in the darkness. Solid.
‘You complete me!’
He fell forward. He needed more. He could feel the solid body beneath him, everywhere they touched he felt like electricity. His body was thumbing but his mind was wavering, it was only stemming the flood of his mind. He stripped his gloves first, pressed them to the wet face, unseen in the darkness. Yes. He could hear him again even though the mouth he felt never moved.
“We complete each other.” His armor fell in pieces around them, the thick thermals falling in a discarded pile. Batman’s body pressed against The Jokers icy flesh. Yes.
It was wet. Everywhere was wet, sticky and crystallizing but it didn’t matter. He was almost complete, he could fell it, it had to be done, the cure he was looking for, the way to be freed of this situation. But his mind was back and he needed to see him, his eyes, did they really forgive? Could that be what he needed to feel finally real? To be complete? The chain of deaths that were his life finally ending, a complete circle. Death for a death.
The penlight was hard to find, abandoned in his belt, his hands refused to work, stiff with cold. But it didn’t matter. He felt warm. There was red everywhere, if covered them both, his bare skin looked rusty with it; a blue hue lay beneath on them both. He smiled. Red. Not the Jokers color but it suited him, blood red suited them both. His head lay at an odd angle, his head falling too far, too flat on the stone and thick red flesh steamed in his blond green curls but it didn’t matter. For a moment his eyes looked cold and dead, distant. But Bruce knew what to do. Knew how to fix him, knew how to complete them both.
Bruce lay on top of him, holding him close, his arms surrounding the chest, the shifting ribs.
“You are right. I complete you.” He pressed a cold kiss to the jokers frozen lips but it felt warm. It felt warm and alive and real. He closed his eyes and kissed him again. Warm. This time their kiss was broken by that smile….
“Master Jason!” Alfred ran from where he was greeting Dick, back to the childs bedside.
“Bruce-” Jason groaned through his shut mouth, his swollen eyes struggling to open.
“He is on his way.” Dick soothed, not daring to reach out and take the boys broken hand.
“saved me. Killed Joker.”
***
““I’ve been thinking lately…”
“About you…”
“About Me.”
“About whats going to happen to us, in the end.”
“We’re going to kill each other, aren’t we?”
“Perhaps you’ll kill me…”
“Perhaps I’ll kill you.”
“Perhaps sooner…”
“Perhaps later.”
“Maybe I can help.”
“No. It’s too late for that. Far too late.””
Author: Medorikoi
Fandom: TDK/DCU
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I own…a growing comic book collection but none of the characters inside! I also give full ownership to the final quote to the author of “Batman The Killing Joke”
Warnings: dark, insanity, violence, I mean it is Batman and the Joker after all….
Prompt: 56!
" The Joker's dead. That much is clear. Batman doesn't remember if he did it or not, but the Joker is still here, he is... Stretch out fingers, gloved or bare, he can almost touch him--but why, why can no one else see him, hear him cackle, hear him jeer, him philosophize? The Joker is dead...and Batman's losing his mind.”
A/N: You do need to know that in the DC universe Jason Todd (Robin II) is beaten to death with a crowbar by the Joker. O.O ouch. To the author of the prompt…I hope you like it! If not please tell me, I have way more ideas and I want you to be happy!
I don’t know how I got here, I don’t know how long I have been here or why this happened. But I can see why I am here. The hospital room is sterile and white, but all I can smell under the antiseptic is death, and Jason Todd is in the middle of it. I almost miss him beneath the mesh of tubes and wires, the bandages tenuously holding him together, my broken Robin. But the monitors are bleating, and the chart I steal documents severe trauma but the prognosis is good. He might live.
I leave without looking at his collapsed face, I don’t want to see how the metal shattered the fragile bones, I don’t want to look for the shape of a crowbar in his once unmarred flesh. I almost pause as I leap out the window. I know that he was beaten to the point of death; I know I saw it happen…but I don’t remember any of it.
I have to keep going, I cannot remember who did this to Robin, I have no way of knowing if I am still in danger and until I do everyone is a threat. The Batmobile is only a few alleys away, hiding in its usual spot for this area of Gotham and I do not look back as I drive away. I send a message to Alfred, I don’t even know if I told him about Jason yet so I don’t call, nothing can be gained by flaunting what I do not know.
I keep driving. Anywhere. Nowhere. It doesn’t matter. I just need…I feel wrong. Off. Like something in me has broken, permanently. Irreparably. Some part of me has shattered and left a hole inside of me where it once existed, its edges barbed and vicious. Feel? I feel off? No. What I need to do is start thinking rationally. I need to run tests. If I have been compromised I need to test for drugs, I need to find a cure, I need to know what to expect, I need to stop this.
My mind feels muddled and slow, like walking through water and the blood running through my veins feels just as sluggish, thick with ice. There is a fog in my mind, making the world far off and unreal. I need to get back to the cave, but the car has stopped and without thinking I slip into the bitter winter night. If I drove here it might be my subconscious mind remembering something, prompting me, or it could be a trap. A risk I have to take.
My parents’ cemetery. I know the path by heart, I don’t need to see their names etched into the stone to know where they lay but I brush the ice away just to see. After all these years… the image I have in my mind of them has become this. Not their faces, remembered only with the matte of still paintings, nor the voices lost to time, but this cold unfeeling stone. Father was a name cut from Marble, Mother was the sculptured angel that stood on top. Stone was the only family left to a lost child, the only thing left to love.
I do not sit against their names, too intimate, too tortured. I sit against the back of the headstone, gazing as I have a million times down the path of frozen brown earth, watching the grey world. I know this place, the playground of my childhood, but this time that feeling of a broken world catches me. If this is a trap the person that did this to me knows who I am, who I pretend to be in the garish light of day. If it is a memory…a new memory of an old cemetery, I need to find out what has been done. What they may have done. What I may have done.
The rocks don’t trip me up as I run through the night, not knowing where I am destined to be does not slow my feet, for once my brain has been deemed useless, I walk without understanding, mindless. My own personalized version of hell. A world I cannot decipher or comprehend. But I know this place still. I stop at the mouth of a cave, hidden by the brush and rocks, found only by those looking for it, those
with the eye to find the system of caves that run through Gotham.
I know this is where I should be. Memories more recent than I should know are pushing at the gates of my closed mind, tearing, painful, unreachable. Being here feels more right than being with Jason in the hospital, then waiting as the Bat outside the window or playing human with Alfred in the waiting room. I need this. It is here that I will find my answers. Close. I just need…
“Bats!” He sat on the roof of the cave, his legs swinging in and out if the entranceway like a child. “I knew you would come!” He smiled.
The air is frozen, it burns the exposed portion of my face, the moisture on my lips, my throat in frozen with it, my lungs sear but the Joker sits there is nothing but his suit smiling at me, laughing as the killing wind brushed past his hair without tangling a single strand. Yes. It felt right.
“What am I doing here?”
He pouted. “Aww Bats you mean you came all this way and you don’t even know?! All that beautiful violence we shared together and you don’t remember a lick of it?”
“You hurt Robin.” The Joker with a crowbar. An abandoned warehouse. He could see it, hear Jason’s screams.
He pouted again but it was almost a laugh, he jumped down like a cat, his feet made no sound as he touched the ground, he left no print. “But it was only Bird Boy number 2! And after all that trouble the brat is going to live. It’s almost embarrassing.”
“How do you know how he is?” Better. He was thinking again. The world felt real again. The Joker was standing in front of him and the hollowness disappeared, he felt strong, intelligent, unyielding. himself once more. This is where he needed to be.
The Joker ignored him, his lips drawn down even more, overly dramatic and completely at ease, his own private performance. “If it had been Boy Toy the first that would have at least been something…what is his name? Dick? Your bouncing baby Orphan?” He clucked his tongue against his teeth, shaking his head and looked up at his with a lecherous smile, acid green eyes staring into him. “What an unfortunate name for such a flexible boy.”
Batman’s heart lurched. The memories flooded over him, took over his mind. He could see Robin being beaten, the blood streaming from him, the screaming. But it was not Jason he had thought of as the metal shattered fragile bones, destroyed his young body, it was his predecessor, his almost son. “How do you know about Dick?” His voice was a roar. His eyes darted around the area, the Joker had no way to escape when it came down to a fight, they were closed in. The memories whirled around him, more blood, it covered everything, the world was stained with it, splattered against the walls in violent strokes, pooling crimson on the floor, devastated bodies falling apart in his hands but it wasn’t just Jason…
“Oh Bats I really am hurt you forgot all about what happened between us! Was I your first?” He stopped pacing; he looked at Batman like he was the only thing left in the universe for him. “ I’m surprised! A big scary guy like you. I know everything you know…and apparently more…Brucie.”
He was compromised. Dick. Jason. Alfred. All of them. It was over. The Joker must have seen his face drop because he began laughing again. It was cold and tinkling, it haunted his sleep, echoed in his mind forever, the voice of the evil within them all.
“Don’t worry so much Batsy Babe! I won’t tell a soul! I can’t!” His laugh continued but it was breaking, manic lunatic laughter was becoming deep, chocked with melancholy, almost a…sob. “I always told you that you were the only one for me! You complete me! And now…you’re the only one who can see me!” The smile was gone, the pout was gone, and for the first time Batman could see beneath the Jokers mask, he could see the cracks, the cold sanity …the mortality.
“Liar!” He growled the word but he did not believe it. His mind was sharp, he was not drug-addled, he was not compromised. Something had happened. Something terrible had happened to them both.
“You’ll see. Just look.”
“Batman!” That voice…
“Bruce.” Nightwing had both hands on his shoulders, alive and warm and real, not smashed like Jason. He was worried. “What are you doing here? What happened? Alfred called me and told me what happened. He said you disappeared.”
“Jason?” Dick was standing right there like he couldn’t even see the Joker standing next to him. Bruce kept his eyes trained on Dick.
“They think he is going to make it.”
The Joker stepped closer, his chest was barely an inch from Nightwings arm, he was looking back and forth between the vigilantes, his smile had not returned, it was as if the reality that Bruce gained here he stole from the Joker. He looked lost…human.
“You saved him. He should have died. He was meant to die.” The Jokers words were little more than a breath, in his ear, haunting, true.
His heart was racing, he could hear pounding in his ears, rushing, drowning out everything else like a war cry, the beat of a drum. Nightwing could not see the Joker. He had not been lying.
“Bruce?” The worry in his eyes intensified. He had forgotten to respond.
“Go.” The tortured voice came again, not laughing now. Bruce almost looked into the Jokers eyes but he caught himself, he could not have Dick suspect. He needed to be able to fix this. “Go with him. I need you to figure out what happened and if you play this wrong you are going to be spending some quality time with my associates in Arkham.” He laughed now as if remembering himself, his hand reached out to Batman’s cheek but pulled away teasingly. “Come on Honey Cakes, lie to him.”
“Are you hurt?” Why did Dicks worried voice seem distant compared to the Jokers? Less real? Batman closed his eyes. He did not want to leave, he could still get answers here but the Joker was right. If Dick thought he had finally lost it he would try to stop him, try to protect him. He had to do this alone.
“No.” He opened his eyes and the Joker was gone, the only way out was behind him, blocked by their bodies. “I am fine.” The world pulled strangely and a fog descended over his mind. Next time he would turn off his locater.
Dick was hovering over him, he couldn’t work like this and the haze had returned fully his mind, the weight of it grew more intense by the moment. What could this be? Why was this happening? If only Jason would wake up and tell him what had happened. What this all meant. He could not concentrate, his mind was getting worse. What if this was progressive? What if they only had a certain amount of time? What if this debilitating mental freeze was permanent?
Bruce returned to the Batcave, Dick followed him but said nothing, just watching. He was worried, Bruce understood but it frustrated him. He needed to go back to the cemetery…
“Come on Brucy! Master Detective. Still no ideas?” The Joker was leaning against the computer consol, only a foot away from his own hand. “It was beautiful, I can tell you that. No what I would have chosen but…beautiful.” He smiled wistfully. “All that passion. I must have been your first!” He giggled lewdly.
Batman almost sighed in relief. All his mental capacities returned to him in a rush with the Jokers presence. He felt alive.
“You are not here. It is impossible.” His voice was a whisper, he felt foolish when the Jokers voice rang clear as a bell through the cave but Dick was training close by, watching him.
“But I am!” He smiled again, his laugh was less twisted now, almost innocent. “Just for you Bats! You like it when I am around don’t you? You want to know what I think?” He leaned closer; he tipped his body to lean in purposefully in front of the monitor. His voice became a conspiritual whisper. “I complete you.”
Batman gasped for air. He felt sharp, brilliant, unhindered, alive. More than human. The closer they got the more reality made sense. If he could just get closer, if he could touch him maybe he could finally understand…
He reached up to the Jokers cheek before he could move.
“NO!” The Joker yelled, pulled back but it was too late. Batman saw his hand go through his cheek like nothing was there.
“no.”
And then the Joker was gone and with him left Batmans sanity, him mind, his brilliance. He needed….
“Dick.” Nightwing was by his side in a second. “We should be with Jason.”
The boy looked relived; even though Batmans heart was pounding and he could not think, only act, follow his mindless body, he was relived as well. He needed to appear normal, normal as he could ever be. He needed to deceive Dick just once more, so rational, the child he had formed in his own style, he simply wouldn’t understand.
“Get dressed and head over. I need to go collect some evidence and I will follow.”
“Batm- Bruce.”
“Go.” Even now there was no further argument, the moment he disappeared Bruce was running then driving as fast as he could, his locator left in the cave blinking on the console.
It felt like he was drunk. He could react, could function but everything that comprised him as gone. Without the Joker Batman was dead. He stumbled out of the car and towards the cave, brushing past his parents’ grave for the first time in his life without a glance, without pain. The Joker was waiting for him with that same sad smile in the clearing next to the little cave.
“So you figured it out?”
“The only thing I figured out is I need you.” Batman closed his eyes, not wanting to see when his hand passed through the others chest. Like a drug he was okay again, alive. Before he had felt like he was losing control but now he was himself again. If only he could touch him, touch real flesh then maybe he would lose this dependence, maybe everything would be alright. He felt more alive than he had since…ever. His parents death had taken something from him and now he was getting that back. Stone father. Angel mother.
“Poor Bats you couldn’t handle what you did. You based your whole life on one rule and then you broke it.”
“No.” But he could see it now. Blood. Everywhere blood.
“You took the crowbar from me and you made sure I would never hurt anyone again.”
“NO!” Screaming. Pleading. The thick crunch of skull meeting metal, the feel of it in his hands. The screaming stopped.
“But I forgive you! I made you do it! I could not break the bird but I broke you! You complete me!”
“NO!” He opened his eyes and the Joker was gone. The world was fading; he was losing his mind, too much this time, too fast. There wouldn’t be anything left… He scrambled into the cave. Dark and cold, an icebox, distant to his fading mind, necessary. And then he felt it. A hand in the darkness. Solid.
‘You complete me!’
He fell forward. He needed more. He could feel the solid body beneath him, everywhere they touched he felt like electricity. His body was thumbing but his mind was wavering, it was only stemming the flood of his mind. He stripped his gloves first, pressed them to the wet face, unseen in the darkness. Yes. He could hear him again even though the mouth he felt never moved.
“We complete each other.” His armor fell in pieces around them, the thick thermals falling in a discarded pile. Batman’s body pressed against The Jokers icy flesh. Yes.
It was wet. Everywhere was wet, sticky and crystallizing but it didn’t matter. He was almost complete, he could fell it, it had to be done, the cure he was looking for, the way to be freed of this situation. But his mind was back and he needed to see him, his eyes, did they really forgive? Could that be what he needed to feel finally real? To be complete? The chain of deaths that were his life finally ending, a complete circle. Death for a death.
The penlight was hard to find, abandoned in his belt, his hands refused to work, stiff with cold. But it didn’t matter. He felt warm. There was red everywhere, if covered them both, his bare skin looked rusty with it; a blue hue lay beneath on them both. He smiled. Red. Not the Jokers color but it suited him, blood red suited them both. His head lay at an odd angle, his head falling too far, too flat on the stone and thick red flesh steamed in his blond green curls but it didn’t matter. For a moment his eyes looked cold and dead, distant. But Bruce knew what to do. Knew how to fix him, knew how to complete them both.
Bruce lay on top of him, holding him close, his arms surrounding the chest, the shifting ribs.
“You are right. I complete you.” He pressed a cold kiss to the jokers frozen lips but it felt warm. It felt warm and alive and real. He closed his eyes and kissed him again. Warm. This time their kiss was broken by that smile….
“Master Jason!” Alfred ran from where he was greeting Dick, back to the childs bedside.
“Bruce-” Jason groaned through his shut mouth, his swollen eyes struggling to open.
“He is on his way.” Dick soothed, not daring to reach out and take the boys broken hand.
“saved me. Killed Joker.”
***
““I’ve been thinking lately…”
“About you…”
“About Me.”
“About whats going to happen to us, in the end.”
“We’re going to kill each other, aren’t we?”
“Perhaps you’ll kill me…”
“Perhaps I’ll kill you.”
“Perhaps sooner…”
“Perhaps later.”
“Maybe I can help.”
“No. It’s too late for that. Far too late.””