Batman: Locked Up Part 4
Title: Locked Up Part 4
Author: Magick
Rating: R
Pairing: Batman/Joker
Summary: The Joker is sent to stay with Batman, and Bruce will have to learn how to deal with the Jokers insanity and his past.
Bruce woke up to the sound of the door opening and Alfred walking into the room. He tried to pull the blanket up to hide his nudity but the Joker only giggled sleepily beside him and let himself lay exposed.
“Master Wayne, Mr. Fox has called to inform you that you are expected to go to a board meeting today at noon. Also, he has more information on the files you were reading yesterday.” Alfred said as he sat his tray down on the table and Bruce was suddenly enticed by the smell of hot coffee.
“Wakey, wakey, Brucey.” The Joker crooned in his ear, his breath making Bruce shiver.
“I brought you some new books Mr. Joker. I reckon that you’ll need something to occupy you today. Master Wayne has a lot of work to do and he has been neglecting it.”
“I think your man over there is trying to tell you to get your lazy ass outta bed.”
The Joker laughed as he leapt from the bed and grabbed the coffee. He drank the hot liquid happily as he leafed through the bag of books Alfred had brought in with him. After a moment Bruce stood, wrapping the sheet around himself modestly.
“Eat your breakfast, Master Wayne. I’ll see you upstairs later.” Alfred left the room and Bruce settled into the chair next to the Joker.
“I need to go shower and dress. I’ll be back really late tonight because I have to go patrol.” Bruce explained as he drank his coffee.
“Where are we? I know this isn’t your penthouse and your mansion is not rebuilt yet.” The Joker asked, completely ignoring Bruce’s explanation.
“You’re in my lair.” Bruce chuckled. “The Batcave, if you will.”
“So you haven’t been home to sleep…”
“In over a month, no.” Bruce stood and let the sheet fall from around him
“I’m going to go shower.” He smirked as the Joker eyed him hungrily. He slipped into his robe slowly, giving the other man plenty of time to look.
“Can I trust you to come with me, Joker?” Bruce asked from the doorway.
The Joker stared at the door longingly. He imagined himself in Bruce’s luxurious bathroom, covered in bubbles and smelly soaps. He imagined the razors sitting on the sink and the scissors in the drawer. He imagined how pretty blood would look spattered across marble tile. His face fell sadly and he shook his head no.
“When you’re ready I’ll let you walk around a little bit. Think about that today.” Bruce left the room and forced himself to walk away.
***
The day went by achingly slow for the Joker. He entertained himself at first with a new book. This one was called “Dragon Tears” and was by the author Dean Kootnz. The book was fluid and supernatural and it kept the Joker from wondering what Bruce was doing and when he’d be back. After reading for several hours straight the Joker forced himself to get up and bathe. He knew that Bruce preferred him clean and he’d taken to leaving soap and shampoo in his little room.
While the Joker scrubbed his head he looked around his ‘cell.’ The room was nothing like the barren room he’d come into over a month ago. It had a little table and chair set, a shelf for all his books and a dresser for his clothes. He had a comb atop his dresser but no mirror. Bruce was probably right to not give him one though, mirrors break too easily. After drying off the Joker found his favorite pair of lurid purple pajamas and curled back up in his bed with his book. He stayed that way until dinner time when Alfred brought in his tray. The older man seemed pleased that he was reading and smiled kindly at him.
“When will Bruce be back?” The Joker slapped a hand over his mouth to try and stop the question but he blurted it out anyway.
“Master Wayne is very busy today Mr. Joker. I promise you that he will return but I am of no authority to say when or in what condition. If he is injured tonight then he may not come down to see you. Is there anything in particular that you’re wanting?”
The Joker licked his lips impulsively and tried to ignore the laughing in his head.
“Blank paper. No lines on it though, I hate lines.” He bit out loudly, trying to hear himself over the roaring that was steadily growing in his ears.
Alfred nodded and left in search of paper. He came back a moment later with an unopened package of copy paper and sat it down on the table. He turned to ask the Joker if he wanted anything else but stopped when he saw the expression on his face. The maniacal grin he’d always heard associated with the man was stretched across his face and he left immediately. He armed the door with shaking fingers and turned the lock before going to find a very strong pot of tea.
The Joker ripped open the pack of paper savagely then pulled his box of markers close. The red marker came out first and he clenched the cap between his teeth as he scribbled on the paper. The laughing in his head hit a crescendo but over the din he heard Bruce’s voice clearly ask him.
“Don’t you ever want anyone to understand who you are beneath all you make-up and scars?”
“I am nothing underneath my scars.” The Joker growled angrily as he scribbled-then looked down at his paper to see a name.
Jeremy Raymond Dewitt.
“Fuck! I am not Jeremy! Jeremy was a scared little boy who cried all the damn time because his mommy was mean to him and his daddy didn’t care! Jeremy never did anything for himself! Jeremy is DEAD!” The Joked screamed, taking out his black marker and scratching out the name in heavy dark lines.
“Not Jeremy, not Jeremy, not Jeremy, not Jeremy.” He chanted as he blackened the paper.
“I am the Joker. The Joker laughs at everything because everything is funny. Everything is a game. Even life is a game and the people I kill are just pawns on my chessboard.”
The Joker threw the now black sheet of paper over his shoulder and began writing on a new piece.
“Lock me up, throw me away. Save humanity and lock me up and throw me away.” He muttered as he drew a cage with bars so close together that it was nearly a solid mass of grey. Then he threw that paper aside as well and readied a new one.
“Bruce Wayne. Pretty Bruce Wayne with his fancy costume and money. He can go out and try to protect people but he cannot stay with me. The Joker needs no one, the Joker needs no one.” The Joker was rocking back and forth now, his marker erratic as he wrote Bruce’s name over and over.
A chilling peel of laughter escaped his lips and the new part of the Joker, the part he’d so recently found, was terrified into submission by the all consuming rage coursing through his body. He wanted to hurt something, someone, make them feel just as horrible on the inside as he did. There was no one around and if Alfred’s hasty departure was anything to go by, there wouldn’t be anyone to see him for a long time.
“The Joker needs no one.” He cried again, laughing hysterically.
There weren’t any sharp objects near by him but there was a plastic knife from his dinner. Bruce had gotten lax about his flatware but Alfred had not. He usually took up every piece afterwards but his fright earlier had made him forgetful. The Joker picked up the plastic blade and rubbed it experimentally on his arm. His skin scrapped a bit but did not part beneath it.
With a frustrated howl the Joker stabbed at his skin with the knife until he drew blood. Then he laughed happily as he smeared it across his arm and over his face. He was careful though, very careful not to get it on his pajamas. He was sure Bruce would never buy him more if he ruined them.
The smell of blood was all around him and he continued to work at the wound until it bled more and more and he felt higher and higher. With a contented sigh he let the blood pool into his empty dinner tray and used it to finger paint on his remaining paper.
***
Bruce winced as he hit the wall with a thud. The rapist he’d been following was fighting hard but it wasn’t too much for Bruce. After a few more punches the man went down and Bruce was able to tie him up outside the police station. It had been a very long night. Bruce had been too distracted during several fights and there was a cut on his cheek and bruises blossoming on his body to prove it. Finally he called it a night and headed back to his cave. Alfred met him at the door looking anxious.
“Mr. Joker seems to have…relapsed.”
The door opened and suddenly Bruce could hear the screaming and laughing as if he were in the Joker's room. Bruce ignored the pain in his body and followed the sound until he was at the Joker's door. He left his armor on just incase he needed to fight and opened the heavy door.
There was blood and paper and ink everywhere. Bruce shut the door firmly behind him and watched at the Joker cackled loudly and continued to draw without looking up. Bruce figured that he probably did not hear the door open over the echo of his own laughter so he cleared his throat loudly.
The Joker looked up at him and almost instantly the smile on his face melted. He started at him in shock, as if he did not expect to see him there at all. Bruce walked across the room, sank gratefully into the chair across from the other man and waited patiently for him to explain himself.
“Batman?” The Joker asked softly.
Bruce nodded and removed his mask.
“Bruce? Alfred said that you wouldn’t come back.”
Bruce watched at the insane gleam left the Joker's eye and his constant scribbling ceased. He dropped the paper and marker in his hand and looked down at his ‘art’ in amazement.
“Do you even know what just happened, Joker?” Bruce asked lowly, reaching out to snag one of the papers.
“Of course I know what happened. I did a lot of writing and drawing and I was so angry…” The Joker laughed bitterly.
“Why were you angry?”
“Alfred said you would not be back. You were out playing hero without me!” He hissed.
“I’m sure Alfred said no such thing. Are you sure you didn’t hear what you wanted to hear? Besides, I told you quite plainly that I would be back tonight.” Bruce said matter of factly.
“Why would I believe that? Lock me up, throw me away, lock me up, throw me away.” He chanted once more as he began to rock.
“I’ve come back all month. I’ve never left you alone for more than a few hours! You’ve been fine all this time; the only difference was that I was gone significantly longer.” Bruce paused and thought about his own words.
“I’m keeping you sane, aren’t I? I’m the only person in your life that has ever treated you like a human and you’re responding to that but if I leave for too long or if you feel like I’ve abandoned you then you fall back into this.” Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose as he vainly tried to stop the headache beginning behind his eyes.
“The Joker needs no one.” He spat.
“The Joker might not but…” Bruce held up the paper in his hand. “Jeremy Dewitt does.”
“I am not Jeremy Dewitt!” The Joker shouted, upending the table violently.
“Then be whoever you wish to be. Give yourself a new name that you chose. Give yourself a new control over your own life. The Joker is not all you are and you know that.”
“I am the Joker and I need no one.” The Joked recited fervently, as if he was trying to force himself to believe him.
Bruce stood suddenly and backed the Joker up against the wall. Deftly he maneuvered them so that the Joker was pinned beneath his body and leaned close to his face.
“The Joker needs Batman to be complete. You cannot be a villain without having a hero. But just as the Joker needs Batman there is a part of you, whoever you want to be, that needs Bruce to help control the insanity inside him. Find that person inside you and let him be in charge and then you’ll get what it is that you want.” Bruce promised.
“And what is it you think I want?” The Joker asked sarcastically.
“You want me to touch you, to know you, to take care of you. I’m willing to do all of those things but first you have to differentiate yourself.” Bruce looked at him sternly and the Joker's eyes fluttered shut.
“Brucey…” The Joker whimpered suddenly, his hips twitching restlessly against the wall.
“You’re getting off on me being charge, aren’t you?” Bruce sighed wearily.
“Fuck yes.”
Bruce reached down and cupped the Joker's erection through his thin pajama pants. Instantly, the other man arched into his touch and whined softly. Bruce didn’t bother pulling away to remove his heavy gloves, instead he pinned him tighter and thrust his hand into the Joker's pants.
“God that feels good, what are those gloves made of?” The Joker giggled as he moved in time with Bruce’s strokes.
Bruce ignored his question and set about making the Joker relax. He stroked him leisurely until his face was contorted with pleasure and he was begging steadily beneath his breath. Then he swiped his thumb over the sensitive head and the Joker was lost. With a shrill cry he came, falling limp in Bruce’s arms and sagging against the wall.
“You need to wash all the blood and ink off of you. Do you need stitches for your arm?” Bruce asked softly as he stripped the now docile man and put him under the shower head.
Bruce washed him quickly, not caring that his uniform was getting wet. Once he was clean and dry he dressed him in his scribbled on white pajamas and set about dressing his wound. He had Band-Aids and anti-bacterial cream in his utility belt and he hoped it was enough to keep the Joker from getting an infection. By the time he was done with the other man he was snoring softly in bed. Shaking his head in amazement Bruce cleaned up the room then left it quietly with the plastic knife and all his scribblings in hand.
“Is he alright, Master Wayne? I don’t know what set him off but he was the worst I’ve seen him since the second night he was here.”
“He’s asleep now, Alfred. His manic episode drained him and he’s sleeping it off. He was afraid I’d abandoned him.”
“Pardon?”
“The Joker is really just a scared 13 year old boy who found that the only thing he was good at was killing. He killed his parents for not loving him and he went after society as revenge. His coming to Gotham was not a coincidence. He was looking for someone to oppose him fully and that was me. Now he needs me and I have to help him. Not just for the sake of the people of Gotham anymore, but for himself.” Bruce said tiredly.
“Could you love him sir?” Alfred asked quietly.
“A better question is will he ever be healed enough to love me back.” Bruce walked away leaving Alfred alone in front of the giant window.
The Joker slept on, never noticing his sad gaze.
Author: Magick
Rating: R
Pairing: Batman/Joker
Summary: The Joker is sent to stay with Batman, and Bruce will have to learn how to deal with the Jokers insanity and his past.
Bruce woke up to the sound of the door opening and Alfred walking into the room. He tried to pull the blanket up to hide his nudity but the Joker only giggled sleepily beside him and let himself lay exposed.
“Master Wayne, Mr. Fox has called to inform you that you are expected to go to a board meeting today at noon. Also, he has more information on the files you were reading yesterday.” Alfred said as he sat his tray down on the table and Bruce was suddenly enticed by the smell of hot coffee.
“Wakey, wakey, Brucey.” The Joker crooned in his ear, his breath making Bruce shiver.
“I brought you some new books Mr. Joker. I reckon that you’ll need something to occupy you today. Master Wayne has a lot of work to do and he has been neglecting it.”
“I think your man over there is trying to tell you to get your lazy ass outta bed.”
The Joker laughed as he leapt from the bed and grabbed the coffee. He drank the hot liquid happily as he leafed through the bag of books Alfred had brought in with him. After a moment Bruce stood, wrapping the sheet around himself modestly.
“Eat your breakfast, Master Wayne. I’ll see you upstairs later.” Alfred left the room and Bruce settled into the chair next to the Joker.
“I need to go shower and dress. I’ll be back really late tonight because I have to go patrol.” Bruce explained as he drank his coffee.
“Where are we? I know this isn’t your penthouse and your mansion is not rebuilt yet.” The Joker asked, completely ignoring Bruce’s explanation.
“You’re in my lair.” Bruce chuckled. “The Batcave, if you will.”
“So you haven’t been home to sleep…”
“In over a month, no.” Bruce stood and let the sheet fall from around him
“I’m going to go shower.” He smirked as the Joker eyed him hungrily. He slipped into his robe slowly, giving the other man plenty of time to look.
“Can I trust you to come with me, Joker?” Bruce asked from the doorway.
The Joker stared at the door longingly. He imagined himself in Bruce’s luxurious bathroom, covered in bubbles and smelly soaps. He imagined the razors sitting on the sink and the scissors in the drawer. He imagined how pretty blood would look spattered across marble tile. His face fell sadly and he shook his head no.
“When you’re ready I’ll let you walk around a little bit. Think about that today.” Bruce left the room and forced himself to walk away.
***
The day went by achingly slow for the Joker. He entertained himself at first with a new book. This one was called “Dragon Tears” and was by the author Dean Kootnz. The book was fluid and supernatural and it kept the Joker from wondering what Bruce was doing and when he’d be back. After reading for several hours straight the Joker forced himself to get up and bathe. He knew that Bruce preferred him clean and he’d taken to leaving soap and shampoo in his little room.
While the Joker scrubbed his head he looked around his ‘cell.’ The room was nothing like the barren room he’d come into over a month ago. It had a little table and chair set, a shelf for all his books and a dresser for his clothes. He had a comb atop his dresser but no mirror. Bruce was probably right to not give him one though, mirrors break too easily. After drying off the Joker found his favorite pair of lurid purple pajamas and curled back up in his bed with his book. He stayed that way until dinner time when Alfred brought in his tray. The older man seemed pleased that he was reading and smiled kindly at him.
“When will Bruce be back?” The Joker slapped a hand over his mouth to try and stop the question but he blurted it out anyway.
“Master Wayne is very busy today Mr. Joker. I promise you that he will return but I am of no authority to say when or in what condition. If he is injured tonight then he may not come down to see you. Is there anything in particular that you’re wanting?”
The Joker licked his lips impulsively and tried to ignore the laughing in his head.
“Blank paper. No lines on it though, I hate lines.” He bit out loudly, trying to hear himself over the roaring that was steadily growing in his ears.
Alfred nodded and left in search of paper. He came back a moment later with an unopened package of copy paper and sat it down on the table. He turned to ask the Joker if he wanted anything else but stopped when he saw the expression on his face. The maniacal grin he’d always heard associated with the man was stretched across his face and he left immediately. He armed the door with shaking fingers and turned the lock before going to find a very strong pot of tea.
The Joker ripped open the pack of paper savagely then pulled his box of markers close. The red marker came out first and he clenched the cap between his teeth as he scribbled on the paper. The laughing in his head hit a crescendo but over the din he heard Bruce’s voice clearly ask him.
“Don’t you ever want anyone to understand who you are beneath all you make-up and scars?”
“I am nothing underneath my scars.” The Joker growled angrily as he scribbled-then looked down at his paper to see a name.
Jeremy Raymond Dewitt.
“Fuck! I am not Jeremy! Jeremy was a scared little boy who cried all the damn time because his mommy was mean to him and his daddy didn’t care! Jeremy never did anything for himself! Jeremy is DEAD!” The Joked screamed, taking out his black marker and scratching out the name in heavy dark lines.
“Not Jeremy, not Jeremy, not Jeremy, not Jeremy.” He chanted as he blackened the paper.
“I am the Joker. The Joker laughs at everything because everything is funny. Everything is a game. Even life is a game and the people I kill are just pawns on my chessboard.”
The Joker threw the now black sheet of paper over his shoulder and began writing on a new piece.
“Lock me up, throw me away. Save humanity and lock me up and throw me away.” He muttered as he drew a cage with bars so close together that it was nearly a solid mass of grey. Then he threw that paper aside as well and readied a new one.
“Bruce Wayne. Pretty Bruce Wayne with his fancy costume and money. He can go out and try to protect people but he cannot stay with me. The Joker needs no one, the Joker needs no one.” The Joker was rocking back and forth now, his marker erratic as he wrote Bruce’s name over and over.
A chilling peel of laughter escaped his lips and the new part of the Joker, the part he’d so recently found, was terrified into submission by the all consuming rage coursing through his body. He wanted to hurt something, someone, make them feel just as horrible on the inside as he did. There was no one around and if Alfred’s hasty departure was anything to go by, there wouldn’t be anyone to see him for a long time.
“The Joker needs no one.” He cried again, laughing hysterically.
There weren’t any sharp objects near by him but there was a plastic knife from his dinner. Bruce had gotten lax about his flatware but Alfred had not. He usually took up every piece afterwards but his fright earlier had made him forgetful. The Joker picked up the plastic blade and rubbed it experimentally on his arm. His skin scrapped a bit but did not part beneath it.
With a frustrated howl the Joker stabbed at his skin with the knife until he drew blood. Then he laughed happily as he smeared it across his arm and over his face. He was careful though, very careful not to get it on his pajamas. He was sure Bruce would never buy him more if he ruined them.
The smell of blood was all around him and he continued to work at the wound until it bled more and more and he felt higher and higher. With a contented sigh he let the blood pool into his empty dinner tray and used it to finger paint on his remaining paper.
***
Bruce winced as he hit the wall with a thud. The rapist he’d been following was fighting hard but it wasn’t too much for Bruce. After a few more punches the man went down and Bruce was able to tie him up outside the police station. It had been a very long night. Bruce had been too distracted during several fights and there was a cut on his cheek and bruises blossoming on his body to prove it. Finally he called it a night and headed back to his cave. Alfred met him at the door looking anxious.
“Mr. Joker seems to have…relapsed.”
The door opened and suddenly Bruce could hear the screaming and laughing as if he were in the Joker's room. Bruce ignored the pain in his body and followed the sound until he was at the Joker's door. He left his armor on just incase he needed to fight and opened the heavy door.
There was blood and paper and ink everywhere. Bruce shut the door firmly behind him and watched at the Joker cackled loudly and continued to draw without looking up. Bruce figured that he probably did not hear the door open over the echo of his own laughter so he cleared his throat loudly.
The Joker looked up at him and almost instantly the smile on his face melted. He started at him in shock, as if he did not expect to see him there at all. Bruce walked across the room, sank gratefully into the chair across from the other man and waited patiently for him to explain himself.
“Batman?” The Joker asked softly.
Bruce nodded and removed his mask.
“Bruce? Alfred said that you wouldn’t come back.”
Bruce watched at the insane gleam left the Joker's eye and his constant scribbling ceased. He dropped the paper and marker in his hand and looked down at his ‘art’ in amazement.
“Do you even know what just happened, Joker?” Bruce asked lowly, reaching out to snag one of the papers.
“Of course I know what happened. I did a lot of writing and drawing and I was so angry…” The Joker laughed bitterly.
“Why were you angry?”
“Alfred said you would not be back. You were out playing hero without me!” He hissed.
“I’m sure Alfred said no such thing. Are you sure you didn’t hear what you wanted to hear? Besides, I told you quite plainly that I would be back tonight.” Bruce said matter of factly.
“Why would I believe that? Lock me up, throw me away, lock me up, throw me away.” He chanted once more as he began to rock.
“I’ve come back all month. I’ve never left you alone for more than a few hours! You’ve been fine all this time; the only difference was that I was gone significantly longer.” Bruce paused and thought about his own words.
“I’m keeping you sane, aren’t I? I’m the only person in your life that has ever treated you like a human and you’re responding to that but if I leave for too long or if you feel like I’ve abandoned you then you fall back into this.” Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose as he vainly tried to stop the headache beginning behind his eyes.
“The Joker needs no one.” He spat.
“The Joker might not but…” Bruce held up the paper in his hand. “Jeremy Dewitt does.”
“I am not Jeremy Dewitt!” The Joker shouted, upending the table violently.
“Then be whoever you wish to be. Give yourself a new name that you chose. Give yourself a new control over your own life. The Joker is not all you are and you know that.”
“I am the Joker and I need no one.” The Joked recited fervently, as if he was trying to force himself to believe him.
Bruce stood suddenly and backed the Joker up against the wall. Deftly he maneuvered them so that the Joker was pinned beneath his body and leaned close to his face.
“The Joker needs Batman to be complete. You cannot be a villain without having a hero. But just as the Joker needs Batman there is a part of you, whoever you want to be, that needs Bruce to help control the insanity inside him. Find that person inside you and let him be in charge and then you’ll get what it is that you want.” Bruce promised.
“And what is it you think I want?” The Joker asked sarcastically.
“You want me to touch you, to know you, to take care of you. I’m willing to do all of those things but first you have to differentiate yourself.” Bruce looked at him sternly and the Joker's eyes fluttered shut.
“Brucey…” The Joker whimpered suddenly, his hips twitching restlessly against the wall.
“You’re getting off on me being charge, aren’t you?” Bruce sighed wearily.
“Fuck yes.”
Bruce reached down and cupped the Joker's erection through his thin pajama pants. Instantly, the other man arched into his touch and whined softly. Bruce didn’t bother pulling away to remove his heavy gloves, instead he pinned him tighter and thrust his hand into the Joker's pants.
“God that feels good, what are those gloves made of?” The Joker giggled as he moved in time with Bruce’s strokes.
Bruce ignored his question and set about making the Joker relax. He stroked him leisurely until his face was contorted with pleasure and he was begging steadily beneath his breath. Then he swiped his thumb over the sensitive head and the Joker was lost. With a shrill cry he came, falling limp in Bruce’s arms and sagging against the wall.
“You need to wash all the blood and ink off of you. Do you need stitches for your arm?” Bruce asked softly as he stripped the now docile man and put him under the shower head.
Bruce washed him quickly, not caring that his uniform was getting wet. Once he was clean and dry he dressed him in his scribbled on white pajamas and set about dressing his wound. He had Band-Aids and anti-bacterial cream in his utility belt and he hoped it was enough to keep the Joker from getting an infection. By the time he was done with the other man he was snoring softly in bed. Shaking his head in amazement Bruce cleaned up the room then left it quietly with the plastic knife and all his scribblings in hand.
“Is he alright, Master Wayne? I don’t know what set him off but he was the worst I’ve seen him since the second night he was here.”
“He’s asleep now, Alfred. His manic episode drained him and he’s sleeping it off. He was afraid I’d abandoned him.”
“Pardon?”
“The Joker is really just a scared 13 year old boy who found that the only thing he was good at was killing. He killed his parents for not loving him and he went after society as revenge. His coming to Gotham was not a coincidence. He was looking for someone to oppose him fully and that was me. Now he needs me and I have to help him. Not just for the sake of the people of Gotham anymore, but for himself.” Bruce said tiredly.
“Could you love him sir?” Alfred asked quietly.
“A better question is will he ever be healed enough to love me back.” Bruce walked away leaving Alfred alone in front of the giant window.
The Joker slept on, never noticing his sad gaze.