Slipping Into Entropy - Part 48 - NSFW

[loony_lucifer]

Bruce had been watching him from the other side of the chamber until he was out of sight. His mind wandered while speaking with Lucius who, granted, wasn't all that surprised that he wasn't going to make it in today. Would they ever......have peace? Was it possible? He could barely imagine it, but even so he felt tired.

Even as Bruce spoke to Fox on the phone, the clown was thinking of all the wonderful things that could be done with the springloaded setup he'd just been shown how to construct. Finding a small metal box and the same sorts of parts they'd used for the grappling guns, Joker glanced about to see if he was being observed, then began fiddling with the pieces.

After hanging up with Lucius, Bruce stretched. The Joker had wheeled out of sight. Probably still interested in the tools Bruce had shown him. He was a little surprised the madman had been so taken with it all. "Joker," he called, hoping it would echo through the large room and into the adjoining halls. It worked when Alfred called him.

The madman stayed silent, hurrying to put the pieces together. Damn. Not enough time... He set the coiled spring down in place, a cup fastened curiously to the end of it. He didn't dare touch the box now, the spring so delicately balanced that too strong or sudden a movement would release it.

With a sigh, Bruce pushed away from the desk and went to find the wandering clown. "Joker," he called again. His voice rang down empty halls, footsteps following just behind it. The man was either hiding or had gotten completely engrossed in something and Bruce wasn't sure which he would prefer being the case.

Carefully dumping machine grease in the trapped container, Joker didn't take his eyes off the device even though he could hear Bruce coming closer. ...this could be brilliant. Who needs to assault people by mail? You could trap their very surroundings with common things they never notice...

"Joker, where....." Bruce had been turning his head into every room he passed and it was just then that he happened upon the supply room the Joker had holed himself up in. His head was down, shoulders hunched, and his attention was focused on something in his hands that he was working with frantically.

The container was full to the top rim of the internal catapult device. Finally glancing over his shoulder, setting the bottle of grease down on the work table, he smiled at Bruce. "...yes?" He could barely contain his glee, wondering if the hero would get curious and touch the box sitting on the table.

There was nothing at all innocent about that smile and Bruce took stock of the rest of the room warily. Nothing seemed amiss besides the container the Joker had been tinkering with. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, just experimenting. It's nothing really." The Bat was already getting wound up and on the offensive. "Just playing with what you showed me while you were busy yammering away about company concerns with Lucy."

Bruce gave him a raised eyebrow, eyeing both him and the container pointedly. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Uh huh. And what did you make?" he asked just as casually as the Joker had greeted him a minute ago.

"Just a toy. It's not finished yet." Shrugging, Joker wheeled away from the table, leaving the box conspicuously in the middle of the workspace.

Grabbing one of the handles on the back of the Joker's chair, Bruce halted his progress. "Show me. Open it." Their eyes caught. The whole thing was entirely too suspect to leave it at that. And he was curious now. It was frustrating how the Joker was very conspicuously trying to secret away whatever he had been up to, more frustrating than him simply being up to something without trying, and so poorly, to hide it.

"If you're that curious, just open it. It's harmless, I promise," the clown shot back, his face still that careful, cheerful mask. He wanted so badly for Bruce to open the device himself, see the look on his face when it went off and flung grease all over him. What he'd said was true. It was harmless... right now.

The vigilante wasn't very amused at all. He rolled his eyes and internally braced himself. He didn't believe the Joker. Yet he still he reached for the box. Like a fool. If it was deadly, then woe be to he who had trusted. At least it was him and not someone else.

The soft vibration of the lid opening was enough to set off the hair trigger. The spring uncoiled, violently launching the cup on one end skyward, sending a stream of machine lubricant into the air... and all over the taller man. Joker clutched at his sides and howled in laughter at the expression on Bruce's face.

His eyes had screwed shut, head twisted to the side as the spray hit him. He spat it out once the can hit the floor and settled, glaring back up at the Joker. It dripped down his nose, clung to his hair and pulled it down into his face. With one hand he swiped it away from his eyes and down his chin. "That's funny, huh?"

The man in the wheelchair seemed to have run out of air, every chuckle coming out as an odd sort of hissing sob as he tried to catch his breath while still helplessly giggling. The sudden surprise on his face and dissolution of his controlled, stoic demeanor had been well worth whatever punishment the man would dream up for him.

Bruce was furious, but still quietly surprised that it hadn't been something more lethal. He stalked up to the convulsing, flailing Joker, who resembled more of a hyena than a man at this point, and with one newly oiled hand, reached out and slathered it across the man's face with a grimace.

The madman's hands shot out and attempted to catch on his clothing, pulling them closer together. The viscous substance coated everything and made it difficult to hold on. The criminal's balance overshot from trying to reach Bruce only for the oiled fabric to slip through his fingers, his chair toppled over and spilled him out onto the floor.

Bruce followed him down, half falling at the unexpected gesture and half trying to pry the Joker off of himself, but eventually winding up on his knees over the crippled man. He flipped the Joker over by the collar so that he could see his face. "How do you like it?"

Joker simply grinned, grabbing two handfuls of Bruce's hair and pulling them into oiled spikes slightly reminiscent of a familiar set of ears. "It's hysterical. What's with the sour face? I told you it was harmless."

Bruce wiped some more of it away from his face, still not helping much. "Harmless, is it?" He could imagine what it would be like if fire were added to the setup. Another swipe of his face and all it really accomplished was moving the stuff around. "Harmless....." For a minute he looked down thoughtfully, then his eyes swiveled up to the Joker's. "....you really think so?" he asked again, this time with a hand sweeping down to fiddle with the clasp of the Joker's pants.

"Oh, very harmless, unless you added something else to the mix," Joker agreed, his eyes following Bruce's hand with a mischievious grin. "I thought this was what you wanted - get creative, make useful things, keep my hands busy with gears instead of gunpowder. That was what you were thinking, wasn't it?"

"No Joker." That stung. Bruce leaned down, the two spikes of hair over his head falling slightly into the Joker's face. "I wanted you to make something with me." When he'd undone the Joker's pants enough, he wiped some more of the grease onto his hand and without much warning thrust two fingers inside him.

The sudden pressure provoked a cry from the smaller man, his hands drifting to Bruce's shoulders and trying to find something to hold onto. He didn't know what to tell the hero; neither of them were really the type for magnanimous creation. They both specialized in destroying things, they just took another viewpoint on what to destroy and why.

"Thought this stuff was harmless," Bruce smirked as his fingers wormed back and forth. It might have been an underhanded card to play, but still, thanks to the Joker he was covered in the stuff and he would find a fitting means of revenge.

"I'm not bleeding yet," Joker hissed between clenched teeth, his gaze halfway between lustful and resenting. The whole point had been to pull a fast one on the Bat and loosen him up a bit, not to invite him to a domination game. That said, he didn't actually mind that much.

Bruce hummed into his ear in response, getting a bit turned on himself. "Good point." But he really had no intention of making the Joker bleed. In fact, he was beginning to forget what point he was supposed to be making here in the first place.

"You have to admit, it's your own fault for opening my little Pandora's Box. I said it was harmless, but not that you'd like it. You couldn't resist taking a peek." If only the Bat was so easily herded into other things.

"I told you to open it first. Can't blame me if I didn't exactly trust you, now can you?" With that he pulled his fingers free. "Seeing as how you weren't going to take it, It was better than leaving it there for Alfred to find."

"HA. I can imagine the look on his face after getting a face full of this. Probably similar to the expression he gets after watching the security tapes," Joker mused. He made a mental note to trap pieces of the manservant's room while nobody was paying attention.

"Don't even think it, Joker," Bruce retaliated, trying not to think back to Alfred going over the security footage. "You've put him through enough to last a lifetime." The Joker looked strangely pissed and giddy at the same time. Bruce wasn't sure if it was a feat many people could pull off.

"You may try so very hard at controlling my body, Bat, but you have no jurisdiction over my mind," Joker purred, knowing that it would frustrate Bruce even more to know he was planning things out in his head. "I can think whatever I damn well please, whether that's pranking your butler or blowing up the Public Records Archive."

Bruce's jaw set. "You can keep your mind, my only concern is when it interferes with others." His words once again found their way back to a light growl. And with that he stood, prying himself off of the Joker. He couldn't help being frustrated. He understood the underlying message here; the Joker wouldn't give himself up. But if that involved trampling over everyone else then Bruce could not allow it.

The man began to pout again, still against the cold floor. "But I haven't done so, lately, and you know it. I was just having a little fun. Lighten up a little instead of getting in a huff all the time." I couldn't turn your mind either, remember.

Pinching the bridge of his nose and trying not to get any grease in his eyes, Bruce tried to hear the Joker's words. "Don't taunt me with it, and I won't retaliate," he sighed. He picked up the Joker's chair and set it straight again, then offered a hand to the man looking up at him from the floor.

"...you're not going to finish up the results of your taunting?" Leaning on his elbows and watching the billionaire, Joker's pants were still pushed down to his knees from the man's vengeful assault. "Asking me not to pull legs is like asking you to retire from crime fighting."

Bruce hesitated. "That's why I let you do it to me instead of someone else. And a prank on me is a bit different than blowing up a building full of people." He shook his head and re-extended his hand. "Come here. I'll get you off the floor."

Reaching up to clasp the offered limb, there was still a bit of slipping and near-falling as the oil made it difficult to keep his grip. He tsked, chiding the hero. "Whatever are we going to do with you, Bat?"

"Me?" Bruce gave a snort back while he got another arm underneath the Joker's knees, lifting him up. He walked down the hall to the small bedroom, just the way they had left it last, and let the Joker move onto the bed. He crawled up afterward. "Something a little nicer than the floor for once."

Joker raised an eyebrow at that. But still full of engine grease? I have to hand it to you, Bat. Who knew you were such a romantic at heart? Despite his amusement at what Bruce classified as 'nicer', the clown still wound arms around him once he got close.

The taller man leaned into it. When the Joker's lips got anywhere near his, it was easy to forget that they had been fighting only a minute ago. Bruce wondered if that was how they had gotten to this point at all: the Joker's maddening mouth.

Joker tasted something metallic and distasteful, but he didn't care, closing the gap between them and stealing the other man's breath. Not quite enemies, not quite allies, they were some dysfunctional mix between the two. It was a delicate juggling act to keep things from falling apart, but the reward was enough to make it worth the effort.

Once he had that mouth, Bruce pushed the Joker back, going down with him until his back hit the mattress. His hands wandered downward, continuing their previous path of exploration, but this time slowly and with much more relish. He remembered their first night in this room, and the subsequent ones thereafter. Every time he was here it was difficult not to. The Joker had left his imprints all over the place now.

With all his quibbling about control and trust, the madman still melted beneath his lover's hands, willing to let him to anything. Willing to do anything for him. He might not ever be able to change who and what he was, but the Bat had sunk his talons in deep in certain places. He had more power than he knew.

It was noticeable the moment Joker switched. Once he did, a very large weight lifted from Bruce's shoulders as well. He relaxed into the body below him, just feeling the man push up against him without much care for anything else. In moments like this, Bruce could relax. There was no need to worry. They may not trust each other anywhere else, but here, somehow they had caught onto a tiny portion of that feeling.

It was decidedly strange, considering how they'd arrived at this point. Not that precise moment, but how he'd let his obsession wind around him until Bruce could just tug or touch a strategic place and pull him under. Even now, the giving of such trust and control frightened him on some deep level. Bat could control him better with such subtle things far better than all the metal bars and restraints in the world could ever do.

They weren't quite Batman and Joker when they were here. They weren't quite Bruce Wayne and a man with no name either. The licks, the bites, the stroking, pushing, shoving, forceful and compliant ways they moved together took them someplace else, away from the world they had been in. There was a fantastic kind of newness about it, something Bruce had only wished for with someone normal, and something the Joker had probably never wished for in his life. It was almost inconceivable, but in these few minutes they had found a kind of stillness in their lives. The world around them simply stopped.

It was because of who they were, how well they fit together, that Joker was even willing to give himself over to the other man. There was always a sense that he turned everything he did into a game of some kind, but here he wasn't trying to stay two hops and a skip ahead of Bruce to maintain a position of power over him. There was more sincerity in it, with all the facades dropped. A smile was actually a smile as the madman turned his head, letting the taller man sink teeth into his neck.

Bruce's hands and teeth were rough, but for once, his mind was gentle. When he saw the Joker smile out of the corner of his eye, he was rooted in the moment. It was a very strange thing, butting his head with this man for so long going from hopelessness, absolute hopelessness, to this. This smile.....that perhaps no one but Bruce had ever seen before. The despair inside of him eased, washed away in a tide of red lips and yellow teeth that he knew were quite unused to such an expression. Removing the Joker's clothes went slowly; his eyes were all too fascinated with the man to work swiftly.

Laughter rolled out of the smaller man, but it wasn't his usual crazed reaction; Bruce had been close enough, and around him long enough, that he was beginning to recognize the subtle differences. It wasn't a cover for something, or to inspire fear, or a manic tick in response to his environment. Joker seemed to actually be... happy. Happy in a way that didn't involve vast amounts of destruction and loss of life.

Bruce couldn't help it, slowly a smile spread across his face. He could feel the waves of emotion running through the Joker, like it was plowing into him, and he couldn't resist soaking it up. He knew he was allowing himself to smile more often. Alfred mentioned it, the Joker had even mentioned it. But when something like this happened, there was no way not to feel it back. After losing most of his own clothes, he pressed himself flush up against the other man, hips meeting hips, chest to chest, arms stretching out to tangle with the Joker's.

Eyes sliding shut at the feeling of warm skin on skin, a sound between a moan and a chuckle escaped the madman. Letting Bruce pin his arms on either side of his head, one eye opened slightly to give him an approving sliver of green. "Back to seeing the bright side of things again, are we?"

Bruce wasn't sure how to answer that in a way the Joker would understand. How could he describe the smile that spread across those red lips only a moment ago? "Hmm..." His brows furrowed together. "You let me glimpse a bright side without realizing it." He didn't want to break the moment, so he left it at that, dropping back to squirm down the Joker's body.

The smaller man shot Bruce a questioning look but said nothing. The delicious feeling of warm flesh and strong arms against him, pressing him down into the mattress, was distracting enough that he didn't want to bother asking anything just now. There's always later.

When Bruce's mouth landed between the Joker's thighs, he had to hold the man down so that he wouldn't move too much. The metal spokes in his braces stuck Bruce in the side but he left the Joker's legs alone in favor of the source of the madman's pleasure in front of him. He licked the arousal from base to tip, careful to keep the grease on his hands and dripping down his front away from his mouth.

Joker's mouth dropped open with a soft gasp, writhing helplessly against the large hands keeping his hips and legs firmly grounded. Unable to control the source of his pleasure, the madman shifted until he was propped up slightly by his elbows, allowing him to catch Bruce's gaze. Tongue darting out to swipe over his lips, he was captivated, watching every move his lover made.

Bruce's oiled fingers wormed their way back inside him one by one, writhing their way up and stretching slowly. He took his time, but it was difficult. With the Joker watching like that, gaze full of lust, squirming and occasionally gasping Bruce had to work to slow down.

The change was sudden and confusing, one sort of breathlessness being replaced with another. A sharp, burning pain filled his chest, causing Joker to cough while the room seemed to spin. His legs still hurt, but this was a completely new sensation, unexpected.

It took less than a second for Bruce's head to snap up. He'd never heard the Joker sound like that before, even when he was in pain. He looked like he couldn't breath.

Bruce moved quickly up to his side, startled at the sudden change. His hand ran up the Joker's chest, moving rapidly in shallow breaths, gliding over his throat, searching for something wrong. "Joker - "

The smaller man turned over on his side, eyes slightly glassy as he continued to gasp for breath, one hand clenched against his chest. It was like no matter how much air he took in, what reached his blood wasn't quite enough. "...something.....lungs..." he managed to whisper before he was racked by another series of coughs, his body trying to rid itself of whatever was blocking the oxygen.

There was nothing wrong with his throat, still his chest was rising and falling. Frantically, Bruce pried the Joker's hand away and pressed his ear down where it had been clutching. The man was wheezing through the coughs. "Hang on." Bruce moved the Joker's head back and breathed into his mouth, hoping against everything that it would get oxygen moving again. He couldn't find anything wrong. Not with his throat, not with his chest or lungs. Everything else on this man should be broken, but not this.

He wanted to laugh at how absurd it would be to die like this, without warning or reason after everything else he'd been through, but all that came out was a quiet hiss of air before his lungs desperately tried to pull in more air. The room lurched again, seeming to change shape and size until it made him nauseous to keep his eyes open for too long.

"Joker!" Bruce knew shouting at him wasn't going to work. Something was blocking his air. There was nothing in his throat, which meant that either something else was blocking a large passage, something like a clot, it would have to be a large one, or it meant that one of his lungs had spontaneously collapsed.

After a few more moments, the madman jolted slightly in Bruce's arms, surprise marking his features as the odd feeling passed with one last sharp pain. Panting to catch his breath, the tingling numbness in his fingers and toes subsided as his surroundings righted themselves. That was... strange. "...what just happened?"

"Don't move." Bruce's eyes were staring wildly at the Joker, watching some of the color return to his skin. "You couldn't breathe, could you?" He shook his head. "Something's wrong. How do you feel?"

"...dizzy? Like I just coughed out a lungful of water? My legs hurt, but that goes without saying." He couldn't imagine why he'd suddenly had trouble.

Bruce went quiet. Of course the Joker's legs were hurting, but that shouldn't cause a problem with his breathing. None of the Joker's injuries should have caused a problem with his air system, the only one that came the closest was his shot wound which had been healing steadily and healthy for some time now. He had deep cuts all over his body, but none looked life threatening. He had broken bones...... Bruce's gaze ran down his legs. They still looked well, as well as could be expected considering what the Joker had been putting them through for the past day or so..... The taller man ran his hands down the Joker's sides, over his thighs, searching for anything that might jump start an idea. He paid careful attention to the braced legs. If something else was wrong, it might not show outwardly. First the right leg, gliding fingers over the sensitive needles that stuck out from wounds in his skin. The surface of the Joker's left leg looked very similar to his right. Scabbed and bruising welts rose around each needle that pinned together the bones in his leg. But when Bruce tilted it, checking the back of his calf, he found a growing ring of discolored skin.

Joker hissed as Bruce tilted his legs, the wounded flesh sensitive even to light touches. He shot the other man a questioning look. "Why are you looking at my legs, Bat? We already know what's wrong with them." Broken bones didn't make you cough and stop breathing.

".....unless they're creating other problems." Puzzle pieces were dropping into place. "You don't simply stop breathing without a reason." The discolored blood under the Joker's skin stemmed out from one of the needle shafts, the ones that were keeping the fractures together. The braces were solid, all but immobile, but the bone inside had moved. Bruce swore under his breath. He started slowly, fitting it together while he spoke. "If there's a blood clot in your lungs.......it could block your airway, make it difficult to breath. .......if these fractures move, they can send out clots of fat....to your kidneys, heart.....lungs........." He swore again, louder. "I need to see how far this has shifted."

Frowning, Joker absorbed this information as Bruce ran fingers over skin and metal. "...a broken bone could kill you? HAH." It seemed unlikely to him, but he was willing to admit that he had little knowledge of the medical world. "I wouldn't think anything could move with all the bolts they stuck in me."

Bruce's gut was sinking. He pulled his pants back on hastily. "I don't think they were designed with you in mind. It's like infection. Similar basic idea. Try not to move." He found his phone and called Alfred immediately. The butler picked up, but he didn't sound very happy about it.

"Alfred. I need an X-ray. Outside of a hospital."

"Fine Master Wayne. Shall I send down a purple elephant as well?"

"Alfred, I am serious."

"I'll consult Lucius."

"Thank you."

He snapped the phone shut and sat back down with the Joker. A brick of cement had settled in his stomach. "I'll have to move the fractured bone back into place if that is what caused the problem. I'll also have to get something to thin your blood, get rid of the clot." His eyes found a nondescript place on the Joker's skin to focus. ".....I should be able to tell if it's clotting with an X-ray."

"Great. What are you going to do, use a wrench to take me all apart and put me together again?" Joker asked, pointing to the bolts and metal encasing on his leg. "I've broken bones tons of times before and never had a problem. More times than I can count, and without a lot of fancy medical gadgets."

"I don't know. Depends on how bad it is. If it's even the cause." But the bruising looked so bad that Bruce was almost certain that it was. "I am amazed you've survived this far," he added. If the Joker's boast was true, then he was either really good at patching himself up, or extremely lucky.

"I was careful later on, once I had a bit of choice in the matter." His green eyes grew unfocused for a second, his mind going back into dark places in his past. The streets were rough, especially if you lived on the other side of the law, but it was harder to break someone with the freedom and ability to run away and fight back. "People are less likely to try anything once you make certain you scare them more than anything or anyone else."

Bruce nodded. He knew. It was one of the most significant reasons he went out every night dressed as a bat. He picked up the shirt that the Joker had discarded earlier and handed it back to him. Bruce was painfully aware that though this man was "used" to being injured, didn't seem to mind the pain in any normal sort of matter, got off on it even, he had not been paying the attention he should have been to his body's well-being. "I'm sorry." This was in large very much his fault.

"...sorry for what, Bat? You've done nothing but what I wanted. Mostly," Joker amended, smirking at the taller man before pulling his shirt back over his head with a sigh. Now I suppose he'll insist on being serious, dousing himself in melancholy and shame while spoon feeding me some foul medicine as a sort of repentance. "Just don't take this as an invitation to go into a self-hating sulk in a dark corner or tie me to a bed."

He got a raised eyebrow at the last bit. "I think you've had enough of me tying you up and holding you down recently," Bruce countered. "Just don't stop breathing again and we'll call it a deal."

Alfred had mentioned that he would get in contact with Lucius, but Bruce couldn't make himself wait. He picked up the phone again and once he had the newly informed CEO on the other end, he quickly re-explained the situation. Though Lucius had never technically been a doctor, he did contain a wealth of medical know-how and after the scare with Crane's fear toxin he had prepared fairly well for the unexpected in that department. He confirmed the blood clot theory, deciding to send medication to prevent it's spread down with Alfred in the event that they were correct. Bruce trusted his butler to hurry, even though his 'patient' might not have, and he didn't want to leave the man's side.

Minutes seemed to drag on forever as they waited. Despite the fact that Joker was behaving himself and not moving, even after the disappointment of untended lust, his breathing began to grow shallow again. It wasn't the full blockage that had been present moments before, but the fact that the symptoms were returning was alarming enough.

The larger man watching over him didn't move either, but he did begin to fidget gradually. Bruce was visibly worried by the time they heard signs of life coming down the long, echoing halls. He shot up from the bed, rushing out to help Alfred in with a good sized portable x-ray unit. "If this tells us what we think it will, I'm going to need an IV down here soon," he told the butler as he got to work setting up the machine. Alfred nodded, eyes sweeping over the Joker before he ducked out of the room again.

Watching Bruce adjust the device and bring it over to the bedside, Joker cracked a smile again, the edges only slightly faded from breathlessness. "Don't tell me you're doing this just to take pictures so you can look at my insides too. You can slice me open anytime you want if it will keep you from taking tips from bad 80's songs."

"For a guy who calls himself the Joker....." Bruce mumbled in retort. He went serious a moment later though, once he'd switched the machine on and set everything up. "Lie back, as flat as possible." With the machine's head extended up over the prone man, he could wheel it from the chest area down to the bruised leg easily. He recorded everything in between though, just for good measure.

"So, Doctor Wayne, what's the diagnosis? Did a broken funnybone send me to Death's doorstep? Or is it a case of stolen internal organs? A heart, for instance." Part of him was curious to see the pictures on the screen; he had a vague idea of how x-rays worked, but it still was fascinating and slightly magical to him to be able to see into bodies without any dirty work.

"Did you ever have a funnybone to begin with?" Bruce noticed and was glad that the Joker's breathing was stabling again. It still sounded labored, but he was cracking jokes at least. Bruce brought the machine down, moving to see the screen while the Joker looked over his shoulder. He stared closely, well accustomed to spotting bone fractures when he'd had to do this for himself a few times. Clots of blood and fat were something new, but all things considered, he was fairly certain that he had found them. A very small series of the tiniest little black spots were clustered within the shot of the Joker's chest. The image of his leg was a mess to make sense of, but the bones at least stood out starkly from the rest of the damage. "I don't think you moved the fracture very far." Bruce's voice was tense, but the wary relief that rolled off of him was palpable.

"...I hear an unspoken 'but' in that statement. What are you thinking, Bat? What's the catch?" Truthfully, he couldn't make much from the photos, at least in terms of seeing something wrong. Everything was just bones and muscle, the metal screwed into his lower legs causing the pictures to go haywire once they reached the braces.

"I'll need to reset it. Which yes, essentially would mean screwing the pieces of your leg back into place." Setting one broken bone was usually not too much of a hitch, besides the excruciating pain, but moving a piece of a multiply fractured bone back into place would take some effort. He studied the image, specifically where the metal spokes were screwed into place. Unless...... "It doesn't need much to fit back into place......" Bruce's gaze met the Joker's. "I think we can do it here, without surgery, if I adjust these spokes enough to shift the bone and then tighten them back into place. But it would be painful."

The man on the bed didn't flinch, his eyes impassive. He shrugged. "You and I both know I don't care much about pain. I don't feel it in the normal way. If you think you know what you're doing, I'll let you fiddle with my leg." Just don't get squeamish on me.

Bruce nodded slowly. "Alright." It was set then. He was confident in his estimation that they could pull this off without a repeat trip to the hospital, but the very fact that it had happened in the first place because he was being so goddamned ignorant was setting him off worse than the idea of fixing it himself. He could get his hands on the Joker's leg, it was something he could physically work with. The clots that already existed worried him more. Getting rid of them depended solely on Lucius' medication, something Bruce had little control over.

Settling back down on the pillows, Joker watched Bruce move the machine away, complacently waiting for what was to come. He already knew the pain would be bad and how his body would likely interpret it, but he wasn't afraid - not of pain or dying. He just knew that Bruce would hurt either way, though death would hurt him more. I'll just try not to die, then.

They waited only a few minutes before Alfred returned with the IV drip. He pointedly did not look too closely at either man's state of near undress when he handed over the medication Lucius had sent with him. Heparin, set up through the IV to stop more clots from forming, and then warfarin pills for blood thinning. Both he handed along to Bruce. The butler lingered either behind his former ward or at the foot of the bed while they waited.

Joker looked bored, watching the steady drips of the IV into the tubes now connected to his veins. He avoided looking at Alfred altogether, still ill at ease around the man, and not just because of the subject of their last conversation. "And what's this stuff supposed to do? I thought you were going to mess with the bolts in my leg, not dump chemicals in me."

"I will, but I want to make sure you'll be alright when we do it." Bruce had all but taken up lying in the bed next to the Joker, which was increasingly more and more awkward for Alfred who remained politely silent. "This is going to hopefully prevent the clots from building up. The pills will thin your blood, wash out the ones that have already formed. I want you breathing while I'm working on your leg."

"...how long will it take?" Honestly, he couldn't feel a difference between before the IV had been put in and afterward. The madman didn't know if he was supposed to. I'll bet after all this he WILL try to tie me to a chair, he thought unhappily, mouth twisting down into a slight frown.

"As long as it takes for you to start breathing without trouble again. I'm going to estimate a couple hours," Bruce replied.

"Sir, Lucius mentioned he may have to stay on the warfarin pills for a few days," Alfred spoke up for the first time in the Joker's direct presence. Bruce looked up at him and simply nodded. That would be fine with him as long as they were doing their job.

"Did Lucius send any painkillers? All I have here is Vicodin." Bruce didn't like the thought of keeping the Joker solely on that for what they planned to do to him next.

The butler nodded though, looking a little uncomfortable. "Yes. He said not to ask how he acquired it," he cleared his throat, "but we do have a short supply of morphine."

Joker turned suspicious eyes towards the both of them, finally acknowledging Alfred's presence. "...that was one of the things they tried to knock me out of commission at Arkham. I'm not keen at being drugged into a stupor again."

Bruce tried determinedly to meet his wariness head-on. "I'm not keen on keeping you on it either. I don't want to have to force you off of it later on. But just for this, now, you're going to need something stronger than what I've got." The butler in the corner didn't voice his opinion, but his expression became subtly softer than it had been.

"I told you, pain doesn't matter to me. I feel it differently." Joker didn't want that drug anywhere near him. Anything that took him out of commission that much, kept him docile and controlled and unable to think or fight back... Not again. Nobody's drugging me into a pet again.

Bruce gave a shake of his head, disbelievingly. "You can't move while I do this. You'll still feel something. I can't have you going crazy while I'm trying to move one bone in your leg, even if you can handle it." He could tell the Joker was nervous, and he guessed it had a lot to with what they'd done to him at Arkham, maybe even his unusual discomfort with anything and everything that put him in a state of nothing but pleasure.

"That's the way it starts, but then it will get worse. Now it's just so I don't move for this, but then you'll start thinking to use it to keep me from moving around at all after you're done. After all, it's so easy to care for and do what you will with the catatonic," Joker hissed.

"Look at me." Bruce grasped the Joker's head in his hands, but they slackened a second later. "I will not, will not force you into this. If I wanted you drugged day and night I then would have never stopped after I caught you. I could have started you back on it at any number of times I've had you down here, and I haven't. Please. Trust me."

Joker licked his lips, green eyes darting nervously from Bruce's gaze to Alfred and back again. "...and what if he does something?" he murmured, willing to put a bit of faith in his lover to not try anything while he was drugged as well as disabled... but not so willing for the older man who still sent chills up his spine. The butler had been willing to shoot him once.

Alfred stepped forward, slowly. "I promise that I won't," he said quietly. It was true that he had no intention to. He may have greatly feared what the Joker would do to Bruce, but watching them....was hard. He didn't want to feel for the Joker, but he felt for Bruce considerably. When the Joker was in pain, so was Bruce. He had done everything in his power to end it before it started, but it all slipped through his hands. Watching them....like this, a tragedy in motion....was beginning to break his heart.

"I don't know what your promises are worth." For all Joker knew, the butler could have a policy of only keeping his word to Bruce, or of only doing so when not plagued by his conscience. Bruce had proved himself; Alfred was still on the dangerous ground of being a partial enemy, if not a full one.

"They are worth one hell of a lot more than yours," Alfred shot back while Bruce's gaze at him hardened. "But I mean it. I will not harm you in any way," he said, backing down. It was obvious that he didn't want to lose his temper at a slight provocation.

"You don't know me very well, then. You think you have me pinned down and figured out, but you're holding nothing but shadows. I'm a man of my word." He was tired of listening to the butler's self-righteous prattling. Joker closed his eyes, sighing. "Fine. Go ahead and drug me, Bat."

Bruce's skin was prickling as he sat between them. Neither would back down, and both let the other get on their nerves. He didn't like it at all. But he did understand it well enough. He sighed and ran a hand through green hair. Alfred looked very put out, in only a way that he could. "Call me when you need me," he said softly to Bruce before deciding to give the two some space while the blood thinners did their work.

Joker shifted as close to Bruce as he could, his face turned towards the other man's chest. "I don't trust him," he muttered sullenly, unhappy with the whole situation. "First chance he gets, he'll try to off me and make it look like an accident."

"Alfred has never tried to kill anyone like that. He's fought before, but always out in the open. When he shot you, he did it right in front of me. No lies, no hiding, no making it look like something else. He's not secretive." And that was absolutely true. If Alfred did want the Joker dead, he would not hide it, even if it would be the smarter thing to do. He had never in Bruce's life been anything less than honest in that way.

The clown still didn't look convinced, but he fell silent, calmed slightly as Bruce stroked a hand through his hair. "I'm tired of this. I hate not being able to really move." It felt like lost freedom, like being held prisoner by his own body. He despised being so limited.

Bruce couldn't blame him. In spite of all the.....newfound perks it gave him, he didn't like it either. He worried for the man's well-being. He'd panicked when he thought the Joker might not live. And now that he was getting worse.....because of his own inattention....it was eating at him quite a lot. "I know." He listened to the Joker's breathing as they sat. "You have to try harder to stay off your legs after this."

"It's going to drive me crazy." Noting the expression that flickered briefly across Bruce's face in response to that statement, Joker frowned. "Yes, yes, alright, more crazy. I don't like sitting still in one place. It... grates on me." He's always been so certain it had simply been because there was so much he wanted to do and most of it involved moving around to put his plans into motion, but ever since his memories of the past had been restored he was beginning to have suspicions that something deeper had an influence.

"You can still go anywhere - almost anywhere - you want," Bruce said. "Just ask." Once the words fell out of his mouth he had to do a bit of a double take to believe that he really said them. He found that he did mean it. He felt very....responsible for much of the Joker's injury, and he was beginning to learn quickly over their time together how badly being tied down to one place affected the Joker. Bruce would do what he could to....make up for his mistakes.

"Just don't leave me in one room all the time. Or even just always in the cave or the penthouse." The smaller man paused, thinking about it for a moment. "Maybe it would be hard to take me with you when you go visit your inventor friend, but it would be... appreciated if I could spend time outside again. By your manor," he added.

Bruce leaned down a little bit on the bed, easing into a relaxed state. "I would like that." He missed the sunlight sometimes too. For as much of a 'creature of the night' he was becoming known as, he loved the sunlight, being outside, fresh air and warm ground. He could work closer to home for a while. It wasn't out of the question. Even Alfred had been after him consistently about taking some time for himself before this whole thing with the Joker started. He.....could almost look forward to it.

Joker reached up, catching hold of the bigger man and pulling him down, closer. He honestly was a creature of the senses; simple things like scent and touch made a world of difference. "It's not your fault, you know." It went without saying that Bruce would try to shoulder yet more guilt for this. The man almost created his own angst, soaking it up like water.

Bruce hadn't been expecting that from the Joker, but even though it was unusual, he went with it. Letting himself relax against the warm body beside him was easy when he was hoping to calm the Joker's breath back to regularity as well. They laid there for a long time, enjoying the feel of the other.

The madman was oddly relaxed and still with Bruce's arms around him. It was beginning to not even seem strange to him, having another being so close and trusted. It was the Bat. Some things between them were still a mystery, and there was always tension about a few choice subjects, but they were starting to understand one another.

When an hour, then two had passed, Bruce stirred. He looked over the Joker, as though he could tell how healthy the man was by the pallor of his skin even though much of his face was still covered in red, white, and black blots. "How do you feel?"

"Fine. I can't tell if anything's different, though, if that's what you're asking." He didn't feel anything in his lungs, just the constant pain in his legs.

"Alright." Bruce called Alfred and then began preparing the morphine. He was certain the Joker wouldn't allow the substance anywhere near him if the butler touched it more than he already had. When Alfred arrived, he went about helping Bruce find the right tools and adjusting the monitor of the x-ray machine.

Bruce was right; as soon as the butler entered the room Joker watched him like a hawk, waiting to catch a glimpse of the man spiking the mixture or putting air bubbles in the tubes. "...do you have any idea what you're doing, Bat?"

"Some. I've set broken bones before. But never one this broken." When they were ready, Bruce stood at the Joker's side waiting to inject the morphine. "This contraption they've rigged up to your leg should make it easier. I only have to move one part, which I can do using this screw," he trailed his fingers across the one out of place. "and the rest should hold in place."

"I meant the juice as well. But I suppose it's just as well I find out you know a little bit of bone setting before you go messing about with my insides, isn't it?" Even as he spoke, Joker's eyes stayed on Alfred. He didn't want to miss even a twitch.

"He won't hurt you, I promise," Bruce said softly, though Alfred would hear anyway. "And yes....I do know to administer morphine." He didn't further an explanation even though he caught a microexpression change in the Joker.

Behind Bruce's shoulder, the butler locked gazes with the Joker and nodded.

The clown didn't looked reassured by Alfred's acquiescence, but finally turned his gaze away, watching Bruce add the painkiller to the IV. The drug always worked quicker than he was expecting; it took only a few minutes before his body started relaxing against his will. The tension slowly left him, his eyes dilating.

Bruce and his butler waited for it to take effect, watching the Joker with rapt attention. Bruce snapped his fingers in front of the Joker's gaze, waiting for a sluggish reaction. When he received one, he looked back at Alfred who readied himself near a kit of tools should Bruce call for them in a hurry. Bruce laid out the Joker's limbs as straight as he could, holding the damaged leg so that he could get a grip on the spokes he needed. With a wrench and a few small instruments, he loosened the one screw so that it would be able to move freely from the others. "Ready?"

It was like perceiving things through a thick, heady fog, time and space slowing to a crawl and making everything distant. Joker couldn't even really feel his limbs as Bruce moved them. After a moment the question sunk in and the madman nodded ever so slightly. "Go 'head, Bat."

It was eerie when the Joker talked like that. As bad as Bruce felt for making him this way against his will, he at least was far less worried that the Joker would jump or thrash in the process. With a breath, one last glance at the monitor and a final map in his head of how far and hard he would have to move the bone, Bruce laid one hand on the surface of the brace, holding it in place and the other gripped the loose spoke. He grit his teeth and gave it a sharp pull. With it came an awful sound of metal squeaking against the bolts and the slightly softer sound of bone hitting. Immediately he held it in place, tightening the bolted screw quickly.

There was no simple way to describe the look on Joker's face when Bruce pulled the spike loose and set about adjusting the break. The man could obviously still feel it, even with an alarming amount of morphine in his system. He drew in a breath sharply, holding it and going still, but from his expression you would never have known he was in pain had you not seen the lower half of his body. The lines in his face were relaxed, like he was floating in a blissful dream world.

It called to Bruce's gaze like a siren, but he forced his eyes down and on his work, trying to ignore the rapturous Joker. It was difficult. The man had never looked like that before, except....except when they were having sex. He made sure the spoke was straight, the bone firmly in place, confirming through the monitor, and retightening the bolts so that he was certain the contraption would hold.

The smaller man's hands tried to tighten their grip on whatever was close at hand, grounding himself against the overwhelming feeling, but it was difficult to get his limbs to move properly while so numbed. Joker's breath finally left him in a lustful sigh, his unfocused eyes gazing off into nothing. He would have been perfectly happy for Bruce to keep fiddling with his leg.

Bruce made sure twice and again that the brace was exactly where it should be. Finally he allowed himself to look up at the Joker. Alfred switched off the machines and plucked the wrench back from Bruce.

A thin sheen of sweat covered Joker, and he was unconsciously trembling. He didn't appear to be troubled or suffering, however, and finally turned a dreamlike stare towards Bruce once he realized the feeling in his leg had lessened. "...y'done?"

"Yes." Bruce handed the last of the tools to Alfred without his eyes leaving the Joker's face. The butler silently took them and when they were finished, he came a few steps closer, stepping away from Bruce's shadow.

"I am pleased that you are well," he said though he knew there wasn't much response to be gotten from the Joker, and the state he was in was.....unusual at best.

It took Joker a few moments to realize who had spoken and what had been said, blinking in sleepy confusion. "...don' see why, Jeeves. Leg almos' did wha' yer bullet di'n't." Despite the morphine shielding him from the majority of the pain and sensation, the smaller man looked exhausted. There was always a sense of weakness whenever he was missing his usual aura of manic, ominous energy. Without it, some part of the illusion vanished, demoting him from an unstoppable raging demon to a slender and breakable man.

Alfred swallowed and looked almost....guilty. Bruce moved up to the bed, sitting beside the Joker's head. He ran a hand up the Joker's side, over his chest, and into his hair. It was a soft, lightly sensual touch, but Bruce was almost afraid of doing it. How could this man look so......sensual, and so damaged at the same time?

Joker couldn't feel it, his eyes simply drawn to the movement after the fact. He watched Bruce's hands move with an odd detatchment, like everything was filtering through to him from a distance. "So, think is healed? How long 'til this..." he gestured vaguely towards the IV drip. "...this stuff wears off?"

"It'll take a while for the embolisms to clear up, but the bone is set. Nothing else should be getting into your bloodstream as long as it stays that way." Bruce's fingers toyed with his hair idly. "You should feel the morphine subside in several hours." He set a bottle of Vicodin on the table. "Just in case the pain gets to be too much."

Joker sighed, his expression turning bitter as he eyed the bottle. "...take it I hav' t'stay here, then. Doin' what? Sleepin' all day and night?" The idea of being abandoned to his own bedridden devices for hours on end was not appealing, to say the least.

"Yes," Bruce said softly. After all that, there was no possible way he was letting the Joker move so soon. "I'll stay with you until I have to go out tonight." The Joker didn't look happy at all. His eyes were barely focused and Bruce's hands were having no effect on him whatsoever, which was perhaps the most disconcerting feeling for the larger man yet.

That brought a flicker of a smile, but the madman still looked slightly haunted. A bed was better than a cell, he supposed, but at least in a cell one could pace and move about. He might be able to convince Bruce and Alfred to bring him books and decks of cards, but he could only entertain himself with those things for so long. Eventually he'd begin to itch for a change of scenery and a taste of freedom.

"I'll clean up this mess then, shall I?" Alfred said after a few moments passed in silence. He put the tools away into a medical kit and arranged everything back onto a cart that he could wheel back into the main section of the cave. Bruce gave him a nod and let him go. When Alfred was gone he stretched out next to the Joker, pulling a light blanket up and over the man's legs and waist, hoping to make him even the slightest bit more comfortable.

"I'm goin' t'go crazy, bein' stuck like this," Joker muttered, turning towards Bruce and huddling close to him. "Know y've got lots of books, but damn." He didn't know for certain whether Bruce would understand, but he had a suspicion he might after so many years of training himself physically, so many nights spent out dedicating himself to his obsession. "Need freedom."

"I'm sorry," Bruce said and meant it. He did understand, if only from an outsider's point of view. He'd broken many bones before, but had never been rendered almost completely immobile. "Give it a day. Then I'll help you back in the chair and you can move around the house again. We'll go back to the Manor, where no one's around, and I'll take you outside." Bruce longed for sunlight as well as the Joker, and as he spoke about it, imagined it, he knew he was doing all of these things so that the other man would be happy. As happy as he could be.

Joker nodded, twining numb fingers into Bruce's shirt and laying next to him in silence. A promise from the other man was good; it would be kept. All he had to do was persist for a short time and he'd make it outside. "Outside. Y'promise."

"Yes." Bruce hummed it into the Joker's forehead. The woods might not be an option, but Wayne Manor's grounds were expansive. Bruce would very much like to leave the city for a while. He never thought of abandoning his nightly routine, but getting away from the press and the daily reporters inquiring about his personal life and his company ever since the Joker started aiming started his devastating pranks Bruce's way would feel like heaven. "I've got a feeling that I'm looking forward to it just about as much as you are."

"Y've no idea." Bruce couldn't know; he'd never been held prisoner in one place, in one position, for hours upon hours, even days. Years of such a thing had a profound effect on the psyche. "...Bruce?" Joker waited until he had the man's full attention, recieving a curious look for using his given name. "...bring some books later? Cards?" Anything to make the passage of time more bearable.

He nodded at the Joker's request, catching the slight desperation in his gaze. "Whatever you'd like." He'd go through the library he kept in the penthouse before he went out. For now he had a feeling the Joker should try to rest as much as possible, even sleep if he could. "Anything in particular?"

The clown paused, thinking with difficulty. "Nietzsche. Fun things. An' somethin' you like." As much as Bruce wanted him to rest, for once Joker seemed likely to go along with it; he seemed to have more and more difficulties keeping his eyes open, his breathing slow and relaxed.

The last suggestion caught Bruce off guard, but pleasantly so once he gave it a second thought. It put a light smile on Bruce's lips. When the Joker began drifting off, Bruce laid awake with him anyway. He enjoyed the feel of the Joker's angular body when it was relaxed, although he was the one who had a problem relaxing, not the Joker. He stayed there with his thoughts and the Joker's rhythmic breathing for almost an hour after which he uncurled himself from around the smaller man and slipped free of the Joker's embrace. He made certain that the IV was still in place, only for the blood thinner, and that the Joker's legs were straight and his breathing was stable, and then snuck out the doorway.

The man on the bed stayed still for once, neither waking up and attempting to follow Bruce nor tossing in a fitful sleep. The sedatives weighted him down as heavily as they ever had at Arkham when the staff wanted a break from constantly battling to control him.