Memories...
Summary: I will continue this story as long as there is demand for it. Thank you again to all of the lovely people in this community for their encouragement and squees. It helps keep the muse ever near. I hope you all enjoy! It’s all for you…
Bruce opened his eyes. The floor was not cold or hard. Instead he felt himself on a familiar surface, it was soft and soothing. He rubbed his eyes and focused them. Above him was the ceiling of his bedroom.
“How the hell did I get here?”
Bruce looked around, wondering what happened to the Joker, and how he managed to end up in his bedroom at Wayne Manor after a brief stint in prison.
“Rise and shine, Brucey!” The Joker waltzed into Bruce’s bedroom. “You have a…beautiful cutlery collection…in the kitchen.”
“Don’t touch it.” Bruce warned.
The Joker took a step closer and placed his hand on Bruce’s groin. “What…this?”
Bruce let out a sigh. “Please…not right now.”
The Joker retracted his hand. “I know you’re more fun than that!” He chuckled.
“I want answers first…then…” Bruce found that he was unable to say the words.
The Joker grinned. “Of course, my honeycakes!” He replied in a singsong voice.
“Shove off.” Bruce made a face of pure annoyance.
The Joker sat next to Bruce on the bed. “This is bouncy, isn’t it?” The Joker bounced his bottom on the bed lightly. “Very bouncy.”
“How did I get here, you silly lunatic?”
“Not even a thank you…or a blow job for that matter.” The Joker let out a short breath.
Bruce made a face of disgust.
“Oh, I don’t want one.” The Joker assured. “I wanted to give you one last night, but you wouldn’t wake up after I knocked you out with ether in the prison cell. I hate it when that happens.” He snapped his fingers.
“Wait. You what?” Bruce jaw dropped.
“I had to knock you out. I knew you wouldn’t escape from prison willingly. You can be such a goody two shoes sometimes, Brucey.” The Joker giggled, covering his scarred mouth with his hands.
“So not only did I kill someone, now I’m a fugitive?” Bruce took Joker’s face in his hand.
“Gordon saw the whole thing. He knows I’m the one who did it. I made certain of that. The security camera…caught the whole thing on tape…the whole thing…of last night…mmm-hhhm.”
Bruce felt his cheeks go red, as he thought of himself plunging into the tight and warm body of the Joker.
“Oh, don’t worry, Bruce. Your little sexcapade secret is safe. I kept that part of the tape…for myself…you know for rainy days and Mondays.” The Joker winked. “But before I edited that part out for my own collection…I focused the camera on myself knocking you out with the ether and taking you out of the prison cell.”
“Why didn’t Gordon stop you?” Bruce wondered. “Where is he?”
“He’s safe and sound at home…a-live.” The Joker assured. “I don’t think he wanted to stop me.”
“Why not?”
The Joker looked around suspiciously. “Well, I was sort of pointing…a gun at him.” He looked down.
Bruce smiled. “That’s never stopped him before.”
“Well, I said if he stopped me, he’d never see his…children again.”
“That wasn’t very nice.” Bruce replied matter-of-factly.
“I know, but I was desperate!” The Joker shrieked. “I needed to take my Brucey back home.”
“And who says that you can stay here with me?” Bruce wondered, noticing that the Joker had begun to make himself at home in a brief amount of time. Bruce observed a purple jacket on the chair, colorful socks scattered on the floor, and the Egyptian cotton blanket next to the socks.
“Alfred?” The Joker attempted a response.
“In hell.” Alfred entered Bruce’s bedroom.
The Joker turned around, his face turning red behind his makeup with anger.
“Well, I can see when I’m not wanted.” The Joker picked up his socks and the jacket from the chair. He looked over at the blanket and knelt down. He rolled up the blanket, folded it gently into a thin form and placed it under his shirt.
“At least stay for tea,” Alfred offered, as the Joker began to walk past him.
The Joker froze in place. “Tea?”
Alfred looked at Bruce and winked. Bruce nodded in reply.
“Oh, all right.” The Joker pretended to be reluctant.
Bruce sat in the parlor, as Alfred brought in the tray.
“I’ll return with the sugar and lemon.” Alfred announced aloud.
“Thanks, Alfred.” Bruce smiled. “Sure there can’t be any whisky, too?”
Alfred shook his head. “You’ll need your wits about you, Master Wayne.”
Bruce turned and saw the Joker standing in the corner of the room, observing pictures of Bruce as a child and teenager.
“What are you doing?” Bruce wondered.
The Joker turned around, startled, unaware that he was being watched. “Huh?”
“Oh, I see you found my old photos. Alfred insists on displaying them.”
“Uh-huh.” The Joker nodded. “How old were you here?”
“Um, I think about 13, I can’t remember anymore.”
“You look…very sad.” The Joker pointed out. “Lonely.”
“Who isn’t at 13?” Bruce defended.
“I was the life of the party! Always was, always will be.” The Joker giggled to himself.
“When did you…get those…”
“Scars?” The Joker finished. “It’s not a dirty word, Bruce. And I know you have little difficulty saying the dirty words…hmm.” He grinned.
Bruce waited for a reply. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“Some things are better left unsaid.” The Joker said, much to Bruce’s surprise.
Bruce saw a sadness in the Joker’s eyes, a sadness that was altogether new and different. His eyes seemed to be reliving a memory…a memory he wished to forget.
“Sugar and lemon?” Alfred asked.
“No, thanks, I’m sweet and sour enough.” The Joker replied, turning from Bruce to go to the table.
Bruce let out a small laugh at the Joker’s quick reply, which caused Alfred’s eyes to widen with surprise.
“Master Wayne, are you all right?”
Bruce nodded with a smile.
The Joker turned from his tea, which he slurped sloppily, spilling the blackened liquid onto the white pristine carpet.
“Enjoying your tea?” Bruce asked the Joker.
The Joker nodded, wiping his scarred face with his large hand. “Yep.”
Bruce sat next to the Joker. “You’re a mess.”
The Joker looked down at the carpet. “Oh. shit.” He looked up at Alfred. “Sorry…I uh…yeah…you know…shit happens.”
Alfred nodded without emotion.
Bruce bit his lower lip as he tried not to laugh. “Don’t worry about it. I think it’s the least offensive thing you’ve done in your life.”
The Joker nodded, as he looked at Bruce’s teeth on his lower lip. “You know, I can do that for you.”
“Don’t you dare…” Bruce smiled.
The Joker leaned over and kissed Bruce’s lower lip, sucking on it and then sinking his teeth into the plump skin softly.
Alfred cleared his throat.
The Joker turned around and gave him the finger.
Bruce suppressed another laugh, before the Joker quelled it with his lips, groping Bruce’s lower back with his hands.
*******************************************************************
Bruce saw red. Blood red. Red blood spurting out of flesh. Out of a neck. Out of a man in a prison guard’s uniform. A man with a taser. A man who was trying to kill…
“Joker!” Bruce woke up in a cold sweat. He was in bed. He looked down and saw the Joker sleeping on the floor on the Egyptian cotton blanket.
“Huh?” The Joker stirred. He sat up and turned on a flashlight that he kept in his coat pocket.
Bruce was breathing heavily, his body trembling with terror and regret.
“Bruce?” The Joker stood up groggily. “What happened?”
“I saw blood coming out of the man’s neck…” Bruce spoke slowly.
The Joker sat next to Bruce on the bed. “It was a nightmare.”
“But it really happened!” Bruce shouted, pain evident in his voice.
“And you can’t change it.” The Joker said simply. “Some things can not be changed, no matter how terrible.”
Bruce sat silently.
“Exhibit A.” The Joker flashed the light on his damaged face, the shadows cast created an even more disturbing image.
“What if you took this makeup off?” Bruce wondered, noting that the Joker wore it even when he slept.
The Joker shrugged his shoulders. “It wouldn’t be an improvement, if that’s what you’re looking for.”
“I took someone’s life.” Bruce said simply, the words echoing in his mind.
The Joker was at a loss for words. He had no idea how to comfort Bruce or how to comfort anyone for that matter.
The Joker stroked Bruce’s back and rubbed his head softly. He had seen that in the movies, whenever someone was upset that’s how they were comforted.
Bruce’s body tensed up, uncertain as to how to react to the Joker’s human attempt at comfort.
“Just…relax…” The Joker purred in Bruce’s ear.
“You don’t have any cutlery on you…do you?” Bruce wondered aloud.
“How many times do I have to tell you…I don’t want to kill you…I never wanted to kill you…I don’t want to harm a hair on your pretty head.”
Bruce let out a nervous laugh.
“I do…however…I want to lick you from face to foot.” The Joker added with a grin.
“Some people call it head to toe.” Bruce chuckled.
“Some people…are…boring.” The Joker retorted with a smile.
Bruce looked over at the Joker.
The Joker put his hands on Bruce’s shirt and ripped it open within a second’s time. “Hmmm.” The Joker murmured softly. He began to kiss Bruce’s exposed neck and moved his tongue down to a nipple. He sucked on it softly, holding it between his lips until it became firm in his mouth.
Bruce let out a low moan. He ran his fingers through unkempt green and blonde streaks of hair.
The Joker opened Bruce’s pants as he licked his flat abs. He attempted to place his tongue on the source of Bruce’s arousal and desire, but Bruce stopped him with a hand.
“No.”
The Joker gave him a confused look, as his gaze focused on Bruce’s eyes.
“I want to be inside you,” Bruce whispered.
The Joker couldn’t help but smile at Bruce’s unexpected request. “I see.” The Joker held out the e, a few seconds longer than typical. He exhaled slowly.
“You help me forget…the memories I want to lock away.” Bruce explained softly, his eyes sorrowful.
The Joker felt his cold heart skip a beat as he listened to Bruce’s words and stared into the pain in his eyes.
Bruce slid the Joker’s pants down. “Do you own underwear?”
“Don’t complain.” The Joker giggled. “It’s…easy…access.”
Before Bruce could begin to look for lubrication, the Joker handed him a tube from his coat pocket, as he removed his coat and shirt.
“Can I be top?” The Joker asked.
Bruce cocked his head to one side.
“Pretty please?” The Joker gave his best puppy dog eyes. “You’re so heavy…I mean…big and strong.”
Bruce let out a laugh. He lifted the Joker from the bed and helped to place him on his hips with one quick movement. “Weeee!” The Joker responded with excitement.
Bruce entered the Joker with a groan. “Oh, this is good.” He whispered.
The Joker smiled. “Damn right, it is. Now fuck me, pretty-boy.”
Bruce thrusted as the Joker straddled his hips, reaching for his own aching erection. “Oooh, you’re bouncy tonight…”
Bruce slapped the Joker across the face. “Do you ever shut up?”
The Joker let out a satisfied giggle. “I like it when you’re rough with me…you’re such a naughty boy, Brucey.”
“I’m serious, shut the fuck up while I’m fucking you.”
The Joker’s eyes rolled back with pleasure from both Bruce’s words and actions. He saluted in the air and winked at Bruce seconds before he came.
Several hot and heavy thrusts later, Bruce came inside of the Joker. He moaned at the climax, closing his eyes tightly without a thought.
The Joker slid himself off of Bruce and sat at the edge of the bed. “Night, Bruce.” The Joker looked down at his blanket on the floor.
“No, stay here with me.” Bruce patted the space next to him on his king sized bed.
The Joker shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever you say…”
*******************************************************
A few hours later, Alfred walked to Bruce’s bedroom to check on him. He observed a blanket that Bruce had covered the Joker and his own body with during the night. The Joker’s arm was wrapped possessively around Bruce’s shoulders, his damaged face pressed against Bruce’s smooth upper arm.
Alfred made a face and walked away from Bruce’s bedroom.
********************************************************************
When the sun began to rise, Alfred woke the Joker and instructed him to get dressed and meet him in the parlor.
“What do you want, Jeeves?” The Joker said in an annoyed tone.
Alfred cleared his throat, ignoring the comment.
“I want you to leave Master Wayne alone.”
“No.” The Joker replied simply.
“You’re poisoning his mind. You’re corrupting him slowly…like arsenic in his blood.” Alfred explained.
“Am not.” The Joker retorted.
“He doesn’t even act as Batman anymore. He hasn’t been in the Batcave for over a week.” Alfred continued.
“So? Enemy number one no longer poses a threat, and he knows it.” The Joker smiled. “Well, he should know it. He’s fucking me.”
Alfred winced at the last statement. “You’re making him believe that he cares for you.”
The Joker was silent.
“I don’t play games….Is that what you think this is? Some sort of ring around the rosey?” The Joker broke his own silence.
“If you love him, then you’ll leave before he wakes.” Alfred proposed.
“Love?” The Joker repeated the word as if it was the most vile in existence.
“Yes. Love.” Alfred confirmed.
*****************************************************************
A few hours passed in the morning, and Bruce awoke from his slumber. He reached out to touch the Joker’s back or chest, whichever way he was positioned on the bed, only to touch the sheets on his mattress. Bruce opened his eyes and found that he was alone in his room.
“Where is he?” Bruce asked when he entered the kitchen.
Alfred turned away from the tea kettle on the stovetop.
“Where is he, Alfred?” Bruce repeated.
Alfred shrugged his shoulders. “I thought he was with you.”
Bruce shook his head. “He’s not.” Bruce looked down. “He’s gone.”
Bruce searched his bed for any evidence of the Joker. He found strands of green hair on the pillow. On his chair, there were two playing cards. One obvious card joined with a two of hearts. Scrawled on the two of hearts was one word:
“Goodbye.”
To be continued….
Bruce opened his eyes. The floor was not cold or hard. Instead he felt himself on a familiar surface, it was soft and soothing. He rubbed his eyes and focused them. Above him was the ceiling of his bedroom.
“How the hell did I get here?”
Bruce looked around, wondering what happened to the Joker, and how he managed to end up in his bedroom at Wayne Manor after a brief stint in prison.
“Rise and shine, Brucey!” The Joker waltzed into Bruce’s bedroom. “You have a…beautiful cutlery collection…in the kitchen.”
“Don’t touch it.” Bruce warned.
The Joker took a step closer and placed his hand on Bruce’s groin. “What…this?”
Bruce let out a sigh. “Please…not right now.”
The Joker retracted his hand. “I know you’re more fun than that!” He chuckled.
“I want answers first…then…” Bruce found that he was unable to say the words.
The Joker grinned. “Of course, my honeycakes!” He replied in a singsong voice.
“Shove off.” Bruce made a face of pure annoyance.
The Joker sat next to Bruce on the bed. “This is bouncy, isn’t it?” The Joker bounced his bottom on the bed lightly. “Very bouncy.”
“How did I get here, you silly lunatic?”
“Not even a thank you…or a blow job for that matter.” The Joker let out a short breath.
Bruce made a face of disgust.
“Oh, I don’t want one.” The Joker assured. “I wanted to give you one last night, but you wouldn’t wake up after I knocked you out with ether in the prison cell. I hate it when that happens.” He snapped his fingers.
“Wait. You what?” Bruce jaw dropped.
“I had to knock you out. I knew you wouldn’t escape from prison willingly. You can be such a goody two shoes sometimes, Brucey.” The Joker giggled, covering his scarred mouth with his hands.
“So not only did I kill someone, now I’m a fugitive?” Bruce took Joker’s face in his hand.
“Gordon saw the whole thing. He knows I’m the one who did it. I made certain of that. The security camera…caught the whole thing on tape…the whole thing…of last night…mmm-hhhm.”
Bruce felt his cheeks go red, as he thought of himself plunging into the tight and warm body of the Joker.
“Oh, don’t worry, Bruce. Your little sexcapade secret is safe. I kept that part of the tape…for myself…you know for rainy days and Mondays.” The Joker winked. “But before I edited that part out for my own collection…I focused the camera on myself knocking you out with the ether and taking you out of the prison cell.”
“Why didn’t Gordon stop you?” Bruce wondered. “Where is he?”
“He’s safe and sound at home…a-live.” The Joker assured. “I don’t think he wanted to stop me.”
“Why not?”
The Joker looked around suspiciously. “Well, I was sort of pointing…a gun at him.” He looked down.
Bruce smiled. “That’s never stopped him before.”
“Well, I said if he stopped me, he’d never see his…children again.”
“That wasn’t very nice.” Bruce replied matter-of-factly.
“I know, but I was desperate!” The Joker shrieked. “I needed to take my Brucey back home.”
“And who says that you can stay here with me?” Bruce wondered, noticing that the Joker had begun to make himself at home in a brief amount of time. Bruce observed a purple jacket on the chair, colorful socks scattered on the floor, and the Egyptian cotton blanket next to the socks.
“Alfred?” The Joker attempted a response.
“In hell.” Alfred entered Bruce’s bedroom.
The Joker turned around, his face turning red behind his makeup with anger.
“Well, I can see when I’m not wanted.” The Joker picked up his socks and the jacket from the chair. He looked over at the blanket and knelt down. He rolled up the blanket, folded it gently into a thin form and placed it under his shirt.
“At least stay for tea,” Alfred offered, as the Joker began to walk past him.
The Joker froze in place. “Tea?”
Alfred looked at Bruce and winked. Bruce nodded in reply.
“Oh, all right.” The Joker pretended to be reluctant.
Bruce sat in the parlor, as Alfred brought in the tray.
“I’ll return with the sugar and lemon.” Alfred announced aloud.
“Thanks, Alfred.” Bruce smiled. “Sure there can’t be any whisky, too?”
Alfred shook his head. “You’ll need your wits about you, Master Wayne.”
Bruce turned and saw the Joker standing in the corner of the room, observing pictures of Bruce as a child and teenager.
“What are you doing?” Bruce wondered.
The Joker turned around, startled, unaware that he was being watched. “Huh?”
“Oh, I see you found my old photos. Alfred insists on displaying them.”
“Uh-huh.” The Joker nodded. “How old were you here?”
“Um, I think about 13, I can’t remember anymore.”
“You look…very sad.” The Joker pointed out. “Lonely.”
“Who isn’t at 13?” Bruce defended.
“I was the life of the party! Always was, always will be.” The Joker giggled to himself.
“When did you…get those…”
“Scars?” The Joker finished. “It’s not a dirty word, Bruce. And I know you have little difficulty saying the dirty words…hmm.” He grinned.
Bruce waited for a reply. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“Some things are better left unsaid.” The Joker said, much to Bruce’s surprise.
Bruce saw a sadness in the Joker’s eyes, a sadness that was altogether new and different. His eyes seemed to be reliving a memory…a memory he wished to forget.
“Sugar and lemon?” Alfred asked.
“No, thanks, I’m sweet and sour enough.” The Joker replied, turning from Bruce to go to the table.
Bruce let out a small laugh at the Joker’s quick reply, which caused Alfred’s eyes to widen with surprise.
“Master Wayne, are you all right?”
Bruce nodded with a smile.
The Joker turned from his tea, which he slurped sloppily, spilling the blackened liquid onto the white pristine carpet.
“Enjoying your tea?” Bruce asked the Joker.
The Joker nodded, wiping his scarred face with his large hand. “Yep.”
Bruce sat next to the Joker. “You’re a mess.”
The Joker looked down at the carpet. “Oh. shit.” He looked up at Alfred. “Sorry…I uh…yeah…you know…shit happens.”
Alfred nodded without emotion.
Bruce bit his lower lip as he tried not to laugh. “Don’t worry about it. I think it’s the least offensive thing you’ve done in your life.”
The Joker nodded, as he looked at Bruce’s teeth on his lower lip. “You know, I can do that for you.”
“Don’t you dare…” Bruce smiled.
The Joker leaned over and kissed Bruce’s lower lip, sucking on it and then sinking his teeth into the plump skin softly.
Alfred cleared his throat.
The Joker turned around and gave him the finger.
Bruce suppressed another laugh, before the Joker quelled it with his lips, groping Bruce’s lower back with his hands.
*******************************************************************
Bruce saw red. Blood red. Red blood spurting out of flesh. Out of a neck. Out of a man in a prison guard’s uniform. A man with a taser. A man who was trying to kill…
“Joker!” Bruce woke up in a cold sweat. He was in bed. He looked down and saw the Joker sleeping on the floor on the Egyptian cotton blanket.
“Huh?” The Joker stirred. He sat up and turned on a flashlight that he kept in his coat pocket.
Bruce was breathing heavily, his body trembling with terror and regret.
“Bruce?” The Joker stood up groggily. “What happened?”
“I saw blood coming out of the man’s neck…” Bruce spoke slowly.
The Joker sat next to Bruce on the bed. “It was a nightmare.”
“But it really happened!” Bruce shouted, pain evident in his voice.
“And you can’t change it.” The Joker said simply. “Some things can not be changed, no matter how terrible.”
Bruce sat silently.
“Exhibit A.” The Joker flashed the light on his damaged face, the shadows cast created an even more disturbing image.
“What if you took this makeup off?” Bruce wondered, noting that the Joker wore it even when he slept.
The Joker shrugged his shoulders. “It wouldn’t be an improvement, if that’s what you’re looking for.”
“I took someone’s life.” Bruce said simply, the words echoing in his mind.
The Joker was at a loss for words. He had no idea how to comfort Bruce or how to comfort anyone for that matter.
The Joker stroked Bruce’s back and rubbed his head softly. He had seen that in the movies, whenever someone was upset that’s how they were comforted.
Bruce’s body tensed up, uncertain as to how to react to the Joker’s human attempt at comfort.
“Just…relax…” The Joker purred in Bruce’s ear.
“You don’t have any cutlery on you…do you?” Bruce wondered aloud.
“How many times do I have to tell you…I don’t want to kill you…I never wanted to kill you…I don’t want to harm a hair on your pretty head.”
Bruce let out a nervous laugh.
“I do…however…I want to lick you from face to foot.” The Joker added with a grin.
“Some people call it head to toe.” Bruce chuckled.
“Some people…are…boring.” The Joker retorted with a smile.
Bruce looked over at the Joker.
The Joker put his hands on Bruce’s shirt and ripped it open within a second’s time. “Hmmm.” The Joker murmured softly. He began to kiss Bruce’s exposed neck and moved his tongue down to a nipple. He sucked on it softly, holding it between his lips until it became firm in his mouth.
Bruce let out a low moan. He ran his fingers through unkempt green and blonde streaks of hair.
The Joker opened Bruce’s pants as he licked his flat abs. He attempted to place his tongue on the source of Bruce’s arousal and desire, but Bruce stopped him with a hand.
“No.”
The Joker gave him a confused look, as his gaze focused on Bruce’s eyes.
“I want to be inside you,” Bruce whispered.
The Joker couldn’t help but smile at Bruce’s unexpected request. “I see.” The Joker held out the e, a few seconds longer than typical. He exhaled slowly.
“You help me forget…the memories I want to lock away.” Bruce explained softly, his eyes sorrowful.
The Joker felt his cold heart skip a beat as he listened to Bruce’s words and stared into the pain in his eyes.
Bruce slid the Joker’s pants down. “Do you own underwear?”
“Don’t complain.” The Joker giggled. “It’s…easy…access.”
Before Bruce could begin to look for lubrication, the Joker handed him a tube from his coat pocket, as he removed his coat and shirt.
“Can I be top?” The Joker asked.
Bruce cocked his head to one side.
“Pretty please?” The Joker gave his best puppy dog eyes. “You’re so heavy…I mean…big and strong.”
Bruce let out a laugh. He lifted the Joker from the bed and helped to place him on his hips with one quick movement. “Weeee!” The Joker responded with excitement.
Bruce entered the Joker with a groan. “Oh, this is good.” He whispered.
The Joker smiled. “Damn right, it is. Now fuck me, pretty-boy.”
Bruce thrusted as the Joker straddled his hips, reaching for his own aching erection. “Oooh, you’re bouncy tonight…”
Bruce slapped the Joker across the face. “Do you ever shut up?”
The Joker let out a satisfied giggle. “I like it when you’re rough with me…you’re such a naughty boy, Brucey.”
“I’m serious, shut the fuck up while I’m fucking you.”
The Joker’s eyes rolled back with pleasure from both Bruce’s words and actions. He saluted in the air and winked at Bruce seconds before he came.
Several hot and heavy thrusts later, Bruce came inside of the Joker. He moaned at the climax, closing his eyes tightly without a thought.
The Joker slid himself off of Bruce and sat at the edge of the bed. “Night, Bruce.” The Joker looked down at his blanket on the floor.
“No, stay here with me.” Bruce patted the space next to him on his king sized bed.
The Joker shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever you say…”
*******************************************************
A few hours later, Alfred walked to Bruce’s bedroom to check on him. He observed a blanket that Bruce had covered the Joker and his own body with during the night. The Joker’s arm was wrapped possessively around Bruce’s shoulders, his damaged face pressed against Bruce’s smooth upper arm.
Alfred made a face and walked away from Bruce’s bedroom.
********************************************************************
When the sun began to rise, Alfred woke the Joker and instructed him to get dressed and meet him in the parlor.
“What do you want, Jeeves?” The Joker said in an annoyed tone.
Alfred cleared his throat, ignoring the comment.
“I want you to leave Master Wayne alone.”
“No.” The Joker replied simply.
“You’re poisoning his mind. You’re corrupting him slowly…like arsenic in his blood.” Alfred explained.
“Am not.” The Joker retorted.
“He doesn’t even act as Batman anymore. He hasn’t been in the Batcave for over a week.” Alfred continued.
“So? Enemy number one no longer poses a threat, and he knows it.” The Joker smiled. “Well, he should know it. He’s fucking me.”
Alfred winced at the last statement. “You’re making him believe that he cares for you.”
The Joker was silent.
“I don’t play games….Is that what you think this is? Some sort of ring around the rosey?” The Joker broke his own silence.
“If you love him, then you’ll leave before he wakes.” Alfred proposed.
“Love?” The Joker repeated the word as if it was the most vile in existence.
“Yes. Love.” Alfred confirmed.
*****************************************************************
A few hours passed in the morning, and Bruce awoke from his slumber. He reached out to touch the Joker’s back or chest, whichever way he was positioned on the bed, only to touch the sheets on his mattress. Bruce opened his eyes and found that he was alone in his room.
“Where is he?” Bruce asked when he entered the kitchen.
Alfred turned away from the tea kettle on the stovetop.
“Where is he, Alfred?” Bruce repeated.
Alfred shrugged his shoulders. “I thought he was with you.”
Bruce shook his head. “He’s not.” Bruce looked down. “He’s gone.”
Bruce searched his bed for any evidence of the Joker. He found strands of green hair on the pillow. On his chair, there were two playing cards. One obvious card joined with a two of hearts. Scrawled on the two of hearts was one word:
“Goodbye.”
To be continued….