Fanfic: The Secret Language of Signs
Title: The Secret Language of Signs
Author: razothredfire
Prompt: Tarot cards
Word Count: 2,905
Rating: PG
Summary: Joker leaves Batman a fragmented message of symbols over the course of nine days.
Disclaimer: This work is based on characters and concepts created and owned by DC Comics, Warner Bros. and other entities and corporations. No money is being made and no copyright and/or trademark infringement is intended.
Warnings: Pre-slash Batman/Joker.
Written for Knight vs Anarchy Round 22. Prompt: Tarot Cards.
- Arthur E. Waite'>
Joker bent over the table, brush in hand as he worked on the pictorial cards. Batman was a bit daft about things when he wanted to be, after all, and it wouldn’t do to brain him with this sledgehammer only to have him miss the point. Again.
The clown set aside one card full of bright colors and delicate symbolism, then started on the next. Short of spelling it out bluntly for the man in a press release on GNN, this should be as direct a communication as you could get. A press release would just drive Bat away, reveal too much that shouldn’t be revealed, perhaps endanger the hero. This would be much more circumspect, the timed release of each piece forcing the man to pay close attention and follow the trail to the very end.
Once the cards were finished Joker moved to where he’d stored the rest of his supplies for this little plot. He removed his normal warpaint, going instead for the disguise materials that would help him blend in over the next few days. Discreet was the name of the game this time. He wanted the attention on the message, not the messenger.
Stuffing a few tools into a bag along with the rest of the first part of the message, Joker left for the initial dropoff point.
Batman and Gordon both arrived at the Batsignal at the same time. The look on Gordon’s face cued Bruce that something was amiss here; the commissioner had apparently not been the one to set the signal off.
“I came as soon as I saw. I thought one of the rookie’s gotten up here by mistake…”
A cautious inspection of the signal turned up a back sack tied to the support stand, the fabric swinging back and forth as it squirmed in an alarming manner. A ragged square of paper was hooked onto the rope tying the bag shut.
Batman slit the bag open, stepping back quickly as a few bats made good their escape. A cursory look revealed that there had been nothing else inside - just the bats, and the card attached to the outside.
“Looks like you have a secret admirer,” Gordon said, tapping the small rectangular card in Batman’s gloved hand. The card had been inexpertly altered: a man in black armor charging boldly into the night, bats decorating his horse’s livery. It read simply “Knight of Swords.”
“Odd,” Batman rasped, his fist clenching as he stared at the card.
An explosion rocked the Narrows on the very next night. Someone had breached the walls of Arkham, lunatics pouring out of the Asylum to disappear into the shadows of the slums. Batman ground his teeth in frustration; neither he nor the police had responded quickly enough and many of the patients were missing.
A flutter of something white caught Batman’s eye as he combed over the area near where the wall had gone down. An envelope was tied to the fence surrounding the facility. Opening it, Batman found another tarot card: the Knight of Cups, his clothing rendered in garish purple and green, blackened eyes and a red grin visible beneath his helm.
Well, at least he knew now who was behind this.
Joker had been busy for the last few days, having to keep on his toes in order to sneak around, deposit the next piece of the message, and get out again before he was noticed and stopped.
The Fox Gardens erupted into chaos when his timed device spilled tons of counterfeit $100 bills just outside the entrance to the posh restaurant, causing a near riot as diners and passersby tried to grab as much as they could. Spray painting all the trees around the Wayne family plot in mourning black had been relatively easy with the lax security on the cemetery grounds, but setting fire to the Kane Memorial Bridge had been a bit tricky now that the cops knew to expect one unusual event each day.
Packing the gear he’d need for this latest round, Joker shrugged. No steep gains without a little risk, after all. He was halfway done, just five more pieces to go.
Batman didn’t know what to make of the cards Joker was leaving him. He’d been enraged to find one left at his parents’ gravestone - enraged and frightened. He didn’t think it was pure happenstance that the clown had painted the trees in funeral black, then stuck the altered Death card to the tomb. The dead pair on the card resembled his parents a little bit too closely, and Death’s banner had been changed to show Batman’s symbol.
He knew. Somehow, the clown knew. Except he wasn’t telling the press or the mafia. He was doing inexplicable, seemingly unconnected crimes, both large and petty, and leaving a divination card behind each time.
It had to be a message through symbology. That, or the Joker was even crazier than Bruce had thought. Taking the collected cards in hand, Bruce went to go research.
Joker collapsed onto the ragged couch in his hideout, panting from all the running he’d done that night. Somehow turning the statue of Lady Gotham’s torch into a real, burning beacon had been a far closer call than the olive branches in the shape of a bat that he’d left at the entrance to the city courthouse the previous day. Or the repainting of the statue of the Bowman in Grant Park the day before that. He supposed it had something to do with the fact that fire was flashier than a bit of greenery or paint. That, and it was a long way back down to ground level from the top of the monument.
Going to the fridge, the Joker pulled a bloody bag out of the freezer to thaw before grabbing a bottle of vodka for himself. He was almost done. One more drop, a quiet one this time, and Batman would have the full set. It would be up to him to decide what he did with the message.
That afternoon Bruce paused as he made his way downstairs, spotting out the window what appeared to be the last message. He could feel his muscles constrict with anxiety as he raced down the stairs and out of the house. The sunlight had caught on a flash of silver and red next to the back garden fountain, and when Bruce reached it he found some sort of animal heart on a silver platter.
Beneath the gruesome discovery was an envelope: three more cards, numbered like all the rest, and a note. “Follow the signs, Bat. Come and find me if you accept.”
There was no doubt now that Joker knew that Bruce was Batman. The billionaire was at a loss for what to do about that fact.
While he’d done a fair bit of research on his own by that point, he’d also contacted someone who specialized in interpreting tarot cards to be certain he was getting the gist of what the clown was trying to tell him. He waited uneasily in the Manor’s parlor for Alfred to show her in, a set of unaltered tarot cards in hand.
Ms. Lepken finally arrived, obviously thrilled to have garnered the attention of such a prestigious and affluent client. “Mr. Wayne, a pleasure! Truly a pleasure! I cannot tell you how surprised I was to hear from you this morning.”
Bruce cleared his throat awkwardly, flashing the woman a smile and returning the handshake. “Yes, well. I’ve never been into this sort of thing before, but I’ve heard good things from some friends who tell me they see you regularly.” Showing the reader to a comfortable chair, Bruce took a seat opposite her at the table. “I’m afraid this is a bit unusual - I don’t actually want you to do a reading for me. I’ve got a series of tarot cards in a piece of fan mail and I need to know whether I should contact the police about it. I don’t know enough about all the symbols and everything to figure out whether it’s a threat or not.”
Raising an eyebrow at that, Ms. Lepken took the cards Bruce had in his hand, glancing through them. “…you got them like this, in this order, this orientation?” At Bruce’s nod, she frowned. “Unusual. The most common way to read large numbers of tarot cards is in a spread called the Celtic Cross. That uses 10 cards, but you seem to have 11 here: the Knight of Swords, the Knight of Cups reversed, the Sun, Death, the Two of Cups reversed, the Eight of Wands, Judgment, Strength, the Ace of Cups reversed, the Lovers, and the Fool.”
Laying them out in the Cross spread on the table, doubling up the extra card at the final placement, the reader frowned in concentration and began to look over all the pieces as a whole. Muttering to herself, Ms. Lepken finally beamed. “Oh, I don’t think you need to be worried too much, dear. This looks like someone was trying to send you a love letter that would stand out among the rest. It’s a little odd, but give me a moment and I’ll explain all of these to you.”
She tapped the Knight of Swords. “This represents you, as this person sees you. A brave, skillful, strong man that rushes headlong into situations. This next one is your Immediate Influences, something or someone that’s in your life right now or in the immediate future. The Knight of Cups is an untruthful scoundrel full of trickery, fraud, and sensuality. So whoever sent this either thinks you have someone like this in your life that needs to be gotten rid of, or feels that you think of her in this way.”
The reader tapped another card. “This here is your Past Foundation, something that makes up the core of your being. Don’t take the Death card too literally - it can encompass deaths, but also loss, sudden changes, or transformation. Which makes some sense, dear, given your experience when you were young. That would change anybody.”
“These over here, these represent you. Judgment is in the position that talks about your attitude, your relationship to things. Judgment has a lot to do with rebirth, atonement, the need to forgive. This other card has more to do with how you influence people around yourself, your position in life. Someone’s trying to flatter you - Strength represents courage, conviction, determination, and heroism.”
Bruce felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle as he remembered the altered artwork on the original card he’d been left. It had shown Batman closing shut the jaws of a very Joker-like lion.
“Now, moving along: this represents Recent Past Events. The reverse two of cups means both violent passion and a misunderstanding. The Eight of Wands is in the spot that shows events in the near future, and it has to do with an approaching goal or love finding its mark. These both tie in to this card over here, which shows your inner hopes or fears or secret desires. Ace of Cups reversed means you’re hesitant to accept things from the heart.”
“To me, this all looks like it should be from someone you know, possibly someone you’ve dated. You two fought and broke things off, perhaps, but she really wants to tackle whatever problems or misunderstanding came between you two and get together again. She’s definitely enamored,” Ms. Lepken giggled, pointing to another card.
“This is the card that’s supposed to show your destiny. The Sun means satisfaction, accomplishment, joy, love, and a happy marriage. I think she’s trying to convince you that you’d be the happiest with her, should you choose to give her another chance. This ties into the last two cards up here. This is the Final Result placement. I don’t think I need to tell you what The Lovers means. The Fool means new beginnings, opportunities, pleasure, and passion. Whoever sent you these, I think she’ll be contacting you soon to try to fix things up.”
Bruce concentrated on keeping his expression calm and pleasantly surprised, suppressing the inward flinch upon hearing the words happy marriage and lovers. “Sounds like I don’t need to worry too much, then?”
Ms. Lepken beamed. “Not at all, dear, although I do think it will be difficult for you to know who sent this until she works up the nerve to approach you. A wealthy, eligible bachelor like you must get a lot of romantic overtures, I’d wager. I think you only need to worry if she gets too persistent, or if it turns out she only wants you for your wallet.”
Bruce knew very well that the Wayne fortune was not what Joker was after. Faking a sigh of relief, Bruce thanked the reader. He gave her a hefty payment for her troubles and reassurances that he’d call on her again before Alfred came to show her to the door.
Joker waited on the rooftop he’d designated on the last card, knowing Batman wouldn’t be able to stay away. He was busily scanning the neighboring buildings when the masked vigilante snuck up behind him, knocking Joker to the ground and pinning his hands behind his back.
“Well hello to you too.” Batman’s boot pressed down harder in response to the cheeky reply, grinding Joker’s face against the pavement.
“What’s your game, Joker? How long have you known?”
“I’ve known for a while, Bat. I felt something… that night, when I crashed your party.” He could tell by the way Batman’s hands tightened painfully on his arms that the man was thinking of Rachel. “There’s a connection between us that I can feel no matter what face you happen to be wearing. I’m surprised you didn’t sense me in the same way when I tried to shoot the Mayor.”
Bruce was silent for a moment, his pause giving him away. He did feel something, obviously not wanting to admit as much. “So it’s blackmail.”
“It’s not blackmail. I haven’t threatened you yet. I’ve offered you an invitation.”
“I’m not attracted to you, Joker.” Bruce’s flat, clipped tone only caused Joker to smile; it was a flat-out lie and they both knew it. “Even if I was, it wouldn’t work. You’re insane. You’re a monster.”
“And you aren’t?” Joker laughed.
Bruce shook his head. “Maybe. But I have control. I couldn’t live with myself, if I did the things you do. I can’t live with you doing the either.”
”All right, so I have room for improvement. I can admit that.” He watched the other man go still at the last, the confused frown apparent on Batman’s face even with the cowl hiding most of his features. “What could you live with then, Bat?”
“…are you offering to give yourself up?”
“NO,” Joker hissed, twisting, trying to turn enough to look Batman in the eye. “I can’t live in a cage. I haven’t told anyone about you because I want you, Bat. I want you around for a long, long time. But if you send me to Arkham? I’ll make sure you join me in there.”
Bruce pressed the criminal sharply into the ground again. It was apparent that he was trying to find a way out of the trap; Batman still refused to budge on his One Rule, and he’d be hesitant to send Joker anywhere where he might let slip a few key comments about a famous billionaire.“You don’t want to go to Arkham, but you seriously think I’m just going to take your word that you’ll… what? Work on “improving” yourself? Let you run loose, just like that? You would have fixed yourself long ago if you’d been willing and able.”
“Yes, but I wasn’t. I had no reason to, no motivation. What I do, it gives me something. People think Batman is a sick fuck of a vigilante, but I don’t see you flagellating yourself about how you get your kicks beating up the desperate and the mentally ill, or trying to fix yourself.”
From his one good eye that wasn’t smashed into the pavement, Joker could see Bruce grinding his teeth, but he said nothing. The jibe had hit a little too close to home.
“Tell you what, Bat. I’ll make you a deal. If I can prove it to you, you give me a chance in other things.” The madman licked his lips. “I’ll try to keep things toned down a bit. You meet me once a week, we talk about things. We’ll see what we’re both able to live with.”
Joker could see the wheels turning. He knew this went against Bruce’s best judgment. Bats didn’t think he could ever change. ”Netting me for the police and sending me to Arkham isn’t an option. Think of it this way, Bat. Give me a chance, and whether I’m telling the truth or not? It’ll buy you time. If you continue to be gung-ho about sticking me in a box, you’ll have time to think up a plan. And in the meantime, you’ll know right where to find me at least once a week.”
“No killing,” Bruce finally growled. “Saturdays. Here. Same time.”
Joker felt Batman’s hands release him and the pressure lift off his back. “Deal.” Joker stood, turning and putting out a hand to shake on it, but Batman was already gone.
Fin.
Author: razothredfire
Prompt: Tarot cards
Word Count: 2,905
Rating: PG
Summary: Joker leaves Batman a fragmented message of symbols over the course of nine days.
Disclaimer: This work is based on characters and concepts created and owned by DC Comics, Warner Bros. and other entities and corporations. No money is being made and no copyright and/or trademark infringement is intended.
Warnings: Pre-slash Batman/Joker.
Written for Knight vs Anarchy Round 22. Prompt: Tarot Cards.
- Arthur E. Waite'>
Joker bent over the table, brush in hand as he worked on the pictorial cards. Batman was a bit daft about things when he wanted to be, after all, and it wouldn’t do to brain him with this sledgehammer only to have him miss the point. Again.
The clown set aside one card full of bright colors and delicate symbolism, then started on the next. Short of spelling it out bluntly for the man in a press release on GNN, this should be as direct a communication as you could get. A press release would just drive Bat away, reveal too much that shouldn’t be revealed, perhaps endanger the hero. This would be much more circumspect, the timed release of each piece forcing the man to pay close attention and follow the trail to the very end.
Once the cards were finished Joker moved to where he’d stored the rest of his supplies for this little plot. He removed his normal warpaint, going instead for the disguise materials that would help him blend in over the next few days. Discreet was the name of the game this time. He wanted the attention on the message, not the messenger.
Stuffing a few tools into a bag along with the rest of the first part of the message, Joker left for the initial dropoff point.
Batman and Gordon both arrived at the Batsignal at the same time. The look on Gordon’s face cued Bruce that something was amiss here; the commissioner had apparently not been the one to set the signal off.
“I came as soon as I saw. I thought one of the rookie’s gotten up here by mistake…”
A cautious inspection of the signal turned up a back sack tied to the support stand, the fabric swinging back and forth as it squirmed in an alarming manner. A ragged square of paper was hooked onto the rope tying the bag shut.
Batman slit the bag open, stepping back quickly as a few bats made good their escape. A cursory look revealed that there had been nothing else inside - just the bats, and the card attached to the outside.
“Looks like you have a secret admirer,” Gordon said, tapping the small rectangular card in Batman’s gloved hand. The card had been inexpertly altered: a man in black armor charging boldly into the night, bats decorating his horse’s livery. It read simply “Knight of Swords.”
“Odd,” Batman rasped, his fist clenching as he stared at the card.
An explosion rocked the Narrows on the very next night. Someone had breached the walls of Arkham, lunatics pouring out of the Asylum to disappear into the shadows of the slums. Batman ground his teeth in frustration; neither he nor the police had responded quickly enough and many of the patients were missing.
A flutter of something white caught Batman’s eye as he combed over the area near where the wall had gone down. An envelope was tied to the fence surrounding the facility. Opening it, Batman found another tarot card: the Knight of Cups, his clothing rendered in garish purple and green, blackened eyes and a red grin visible beneath his helm.
Well, at least he knew now who was behind this.
Joker had been busy for the last few days, having to keep on his toes in order to sneak around, deposit the next piece of the message, and get out again before he was noticed and stopped.
The Fox Gardens erupted into chaos when his timed device spilled tons of counterfeit $100 bills just outside the entrance to the posh restaurant, causing a near riot as diners and passersby tried to grab as much as they could. Spray painting all the trees around the Wayne family plot in mourning black had been relatively easy with the lax security on the cemetery grounds, but setting fire to the Kane Memorial Bridge had been a bit tricky now that the cops knew to expect one unusual event each day.
Packing the gear he’d need for this latest round, Joker shrugged. No steep gains without a little risk, after all. He was halfway done, just five more pieces to go.
Batman didn’t know what to make of the cards Joker was leaving him. He’d been enraged to find one left at his parents’ gravestone - enraged and frightened. He didn’t think it was pure happenstance that the clown had painted the trees in funeral black, then stuck the altered Death card to the tomb. The dead pair on the card resembled his parents a little bit too closely, and Death’s banner had been changed to show Batman’s symbol.
He knew. Somehow, the clown knew. Except he wasn’t telling the press or the mafia. He was doing inexplicable, seemingly unconnected crimes, both large and petty, and leaving a divination card behind each time.
It had to be a message through symbology. That, or the Joker was even crazier than Bruce had thought. Taking the collected cards in hand, Bruce went to go research.
Joker collapsed onto the ragged couch in his hideout, panting from all the running he’d done that night. Somehow turning the statue of Lady Gotham’s torch into a real, burning beacon had been a far closer call than the olive branches in the shape of a bat that he’d left at the entrance to the city courthouse the previous day. Or the repainting of the statue of the Bowman in Grant Park the day before that. He supposed it had something to do with the fact that fire was flashier than a bit of greenery or paint. That, and it was a long way back down to ground level from the top of the monument.
Going to the fridge, the Joker pulled a bloody bag out of the freezer to thaw before grabbing a bottle of vodka for himself. He was almost done. One more drop, a quiet one this time, and Batman would have the full set. It would be up to him to decide what he did with the message.
That afternoon Bruce paused as he made his way downstairs, spotting out the window what appeared to be the last message. He could feel his muscles constrict with anxiety as he raced down the stairs and out of the house. The sunlight had caught on a flash of silver and red next to the back garden fountain, and when Bruce reached it he found some sort of animal heart on a silver platter.
Beneath the gruesome discovery was an envelope: three more cards, numbered like all the rest, and a note. “Follow the signs, Bat. Come and find me if you accept.”
There was no doubt now that Joker knew that Bruce was Batman. The billionaire was at a loss for what to do about that fact.
While he’d done a fair bit of research on his own by that point, he’d also contacted someone who specialized in interpreting tarot cards to be certain he was getting the gist of what the clown was trying to tell him. He waited uneasily in the Manor’s parlor for Alfred to show her in, a set of unaltered tarot cards in hand.
Ms. Lepken finally arrived, obviously thrilled to have garnered the attention of such a prestigious and affluent client. “Mr. Wayne, a pleasure! Truly a pleasure! I cannot tell you how surprised I was to hear from you this morning.”
Bruce cleared his throat awkwardly, flashing the woman a smile and returning the handshake. “Yes, well. I’ve never been into this sort of thing before, but I’ve heard good things from some friends who tell me they see you regularly.” Showing the reader to a comfortable chair, Bruce took a seat opposite her at the table. “I’m afraid this is a bit unusual - I don’t actually want you to do a reading for me. I’ve got a series of tarot cards in a piece of fan mail and I need to know whether I should contact the police about it. I don’t know enough about all the symbols and everything to figure out whether it’s a threat or not.”
Raising an eyebrow at that, Ms. Lepken took the cards Bruce had in his hand, glancing through them. “…you got them like this, in this order, this orientation?” At Bruce’s nod, she frowned. “Unusual. The most common way to read large numbers of tarot cards is in a spread called the Celtic Cross. That uses 10 cards, but you seem to have 11 here: the Knight of Swords, the Knight of Cups reversed, the Sun, Death, the Two of Cups reversed, the Eight of Wands, Judgment, Strength, the Ace of Cups reversed, the Lovers, and the Fool.”
Laying them out in the Cross spread on the table, doubling up the extra card at the final placement, the reader frowned in concentration and began to look over all the pieces as a whole. Muttering to herself, Ms. Lepken finally beamed. “Oh, I don’t think you need to be worried too much, dear. This looks like someone was trying to send you a love letter that would stand out among the rest. It’s a little odd, but give me a moment and I’ll explain all of these to you.”
She tapped the Knight of Swords. “This represents you, as this person sees you. A brave, skillful, strong man that rushes headlong into situations. This next one is your Immediate Influences, something or someone that’s in your life right now or in the immediate future. The Knight of Cups is an untruthful scoundrel full of trickery, fraud, and sensuality. So whoever sent this either thinks you have someone like this in your life that needs to be gotten rid of, or feels that you think of her in this way.”
The reader tapped another card. “This here is your Past Foundation, something that makes up the core of your being. Don’t take the Death card too literally - it can encompass deaths, but also loss, sudden changes, or transformation. Which makes some sense, dear, given your experience when you were young. That would change anybody.”
“These over here, these represent you. Judgment is in the position that talks about your attitude, your relationship to things. Judgment has a lot to do with rebirth, atonement, the need to forgive. This other card has more to do with how you influence people around yourself, your position in life. Someone’s trying to flatter you - Strength represents courage, conviction, determination, and heroism.”
Bruce felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle as he remembered the altered artwork on the original card he’d been left. It had shown Batman closing shut the jaws of a very Joker-like lion.
“Now, moving along: this represents Recent Past Events. The reverse two of cups means both violent passion and a misunderstanding. The Eight of Wands is in the spot that shows events in the near future, and it has to do with an approaching goal or love finding its mark. These both tie in to this card over here, which shows your inner hopes or fears or secret desires. Ace of Cups reversed means you’re hesitant to accept things from the heart.”
“To me, this all looks like it should be from someone you know, possibly someone you’ve dated. You two fought and broke things off, perhaps, but she really wants to tackle whatever problems or misunderstanding came between you two and get together again. She’s definitely enamored,” Ms. Lepken giggled, pointing to another card.
“This is the card that’s supposed to show your destiny. The Sun means satisfaction, accomplishment, joy, love, and a happy marriage. I think she’s trying to convince you that you’d be the happiest with her, should you choose to give her another chance. This ties into the last two cards up here. This is the Final Result placement. I don’t think I need to tell you what The Lovers means. The Fool means new beginnings, opportunities, pleasure, and passion. Whoever sent you these, I think she’ll be contacting you soon to try to fix things up.”
Bruce concentrated on keeping his expression calm and pleasantly surprised, suppressing the inward flinch upon hearing the words happy marriage and lovers. “Sounds like I don’t need to worry too much, then?”
Ms. Lepken beamed. “Not at all, dear, although I do think it will be difficult for you to know who sent this until she works up the nerve to approach you. A wealthy, eligible bachelor like you must get a lot of romantic overtures, I’d wager. I think you only need to worry if she gets too persistent, or if it turns out she only wants you for your wallet.”
Bruce knew very well that the Wayne fortune was not what Joker was after. Faking a sigh of relief, Bruce thanked the reader. He gave her a hefty payment for her troubles and reassurances that he’d call on her again before Alfred came to show her to the door.
Joker waited on the rooftop he’d designated on the last card, knowing Batman wouldn’t be able to stay away. He was busily scanning the neighboring buildings when the masked vigilante snuck up behind him, knocking Joker to the ground and pinning his hands behind his back.
“Well hello to you too.” Batman’s boot pressed down harder in response to the cheeky reply, grinding Joker’s face against the pavement.
“What’s your game, Joker? How long have you known?”
“I’ve known for a while, Bat. I felt something… that night, when I crashed your party.” He could tell by the way Batman’s hands tightened painfully on his arms that the man was thinking of Rachel. “There’s a connection between us that I can feel no matter what face you happen to be wearing. I’m surprised you didn’t sense me in the same way when I tried to shoot the Mayor.”
Bruce was silent for a moment, his pause giving him away. He did feel something, obviously not wanting to admit as much. “So it’s blackmail.”
“It’s not blackmail. I haven’t threatened you yet. I’ve offered you an invitation.”
“I’m not attracted to you, Joker.” Bruce’s flat, clipped tone only caused Joker to smile; it was a flat-out lie and they both knew it. “Even if I was, it wouldn’t work. You’re insane. You’re a monster.”
“And you aren’t?” Joker laughed.
Bruce shook his head. “Maybe. But I have control. I couldn’t live with myself, if I did the things you do. I can’t live with you doing the either.”
”All right, so I have room for improvement. I can admit that.” He watched the other man go still at the last, the confused frown apparent on Batman’s face even with the cowl hiding most of his features. “What could you live with then, Bat?”
“…are you offering to give yourself up?”
“NO,” Joker hissed, twisting, trying to turn enough to look Batman in the eye. “I can’t live in a cage. I haven’t told anyone about you because I want you, Bat. I want you around for a long, long time. But if you send me to Arkham? I’ll make sure you join me in there.”
Bruce pressed the criminal sharply into the ground again. It was apparent that he was trying to find a way out of the trap; Batman still refused to budge on his One Rule, and he’d be hesitant to send Joker anywhere where he might let slip a few key comments about a famous billionaire.“You don’t want to go to Arkham, but you seriously think I’m just going to take your word that you’ll… what? Work on “improving” yourself? Let you run loose, just like that? You would have fixed yourself long ago if you’d been willing and able.”
“Yes, but I wasn’t. I had no reason to, no motivation. What I do, it gives me something. People think Batman is a sick fuck of a vigilante, but I don’t see you flagellating yourself about how you get your kicks beating up the desperate and the mentally ill, or trying to fix yourself.”
From his one good eye that wasn’t smashed into the pavement, Joker could see Bruce grinding his teeth, but he said nothing. The jibe had hit a little too close to home.
“Tell you what, Bat. I’ll make you a deal. If I can prove it to you, you give me a chance in other things.” The madman licked his lips. “I’ll try to keep things toned down a bit. You meet me once a week, we talk about things. We’ll see what we’re both able to live with.”
Joker could see the wheels turning. He knew this went against Bruce’s best judgment. Bats didn’t think he could ever change. ”Netting me for the police and sending me to Arkham isn’t an option. Think of it this way, Bat. Give me a chance, and whether I’m telling the truth or not? It’ll buy you time. If you continue to be gung-ho about sticking me in a box, you’ll have time to think up a plan. And in the meantime, you’ll know right where to find me at least once a week.”
“No killing,” Bruce finally growled. “Saturdays. Here. Same time.”
Joker felt Batman’s hands release him and the pressure lift off his back. “Deal.” Joker stood, turning and putting out a hand to shake on it, but Batman was already gone.
Fin.