TDK Batman/Joker Fic~ "Good Catholic Schoolboys Don't Stutter, Bad Catholic Schoolboys Get The Lash"
Title: Good Catholic Schoolboys Don’t Stutter, Bad Catholic Schoolboys Get The Lash
Author: siriuslyyellow
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): Bruce/Joker, Nolanverse, AU, important female OC, slash, het, angst, cursing, violence, sex, pedo, S&M, rape, abuse, and some fucked-up religious shit.
Spoilers: Batman Begins and The Dark Knight. I don’t really think there’s any spoilers, but you know, just to be safe!
Word Count: 4,826
Challenge: MayPhoenix, Bruce/Joker, candles, seduction, toothbrush, "I read somewhere once that the decision to kiss for the first time is the most crucial in any love story -- it changes the relationship of two people much more strongly than even the final surrender, because this kiss already has within it that surrender."
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the Batman series, Batman Begins, or The Dark Knight. Obviously. There’d be more hot gay S&M sex if I had any say in the matter! ^_____^** The dialogue line is a quote from Emil Ludwig, although I have zero idea the context in which it was said. ^.^;;
Beta Acknowledgement: kowaiyoukai, thank you so much for all your help on this! It really wouldn’t be as good without your input! ^__^*
Summary: The Joker attends a Catholic school where the head nun abuses him. Then a new student transfers in, and everything changes.
A/N: This fic is for the December ’08 round of bjts_monthlyfic. First off, my apologies for how late this is! I kept trying to improve it, and it needs a bunch more work, but this version is not bad, and it’s so late that I just wanted to turn it in. Sorry! Anywho, so, yeah. This dialogue line is e-fucking-normous! And it doesn’t sound like someone’s actually saying it. It sounds more like part of an essay or something. Because of that, I could only think of having someone read it aloud out of a book. So really, you all have MayPhoenix to blame for this being AU, not me! -.-;; I hope you like this fic, MayPhoenix, I know it’s weird, but I tried my best! (It probably doesn’t help that I just finished reading the non-fiction book “Switching Time” by Dr. Richard Baer.) ^-^;; I tried to incorporate some lines from TDK where I thought they’d fit. I also used the idea that the Joker is the Joker because of Batman. Anyway, that’s sorta what I was going for, a different explanation of how it all went down. It all ended up way longer and more involved than I thought it would, lol. Enjoy! ^__^*
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The first thing the Joker can remember are the nuns. Their habits seemed daunting and unnecessary to his ten-year-old mind. During his first day at Saint Luke’s, the head nun, Sister Wayne, asked him to read aloud in class, and he stood up dutifully. Her habit loomed over him like a ghost, and he was frightened. Still, he had seen other students doing this already today. It wouldn’t be so bad.
He cleared his throat, then began to read aloud from the text. “I r-read somewhere once tha-tuh the decision to-”
Sister Wayne had slapped his butt with a yard stick. “What are you doing? You’re destroying this beautiful piece of literature!” Her yelp was piercing, almost too shrill to make out the words. “Why are you emphasizing the wrong words? Don’t emphasize ‘to’! Emphasize ‘most’! Start again!”
He tried again. Four words in, she smacked the yard stick against his butt again.
She looked at him sharply, peering over the rims of her glasses. “Why are you stuttering? What’s wrong with you? How is God supposed to hear you if you keep tumbling over your words? Read it again, and properly this time!”
The Joker looked around the room for any sign of help from his classmates, but they all were turning away, avoiding looking at the scene Sister Wayne was making. Not that he blamed them. He wouldn’t have helped them even if they begged him for it.
He just didn’t realize everyone thought that way. He thought some people cared.
As he continued to repeat the process of starting the paragraph, getting slapped with the yardstick, and starting again, he wondered why they were even reading this particular piece of writing, anyway. Why did Sister Wayne care if he stuttered over this? It wasn’t the Holy Bible.
That night, when the Joker got to his dorm room, took off his pants, and soaked his burning butt I the bathtub, he fancied himself with the idea of Sister Wayne being a closet pedophile. The paragraph sounded like something out of a romance novel, she got way too angry when he didn’t read it to her specifications, and then she smacked him.
He went to bed that night, lying on his stomach, thinking of how to get revenge.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The Joker doesn’t remember his real name. When he was a schoolboy, the nuns would call him by it, but he still can’t remember it. They would say, “Pass your work to the front, -----.” And the Joker knew that they addressed him by a name, and it wasn’t ‘the Joker’. He just can’t remember what it was.
He remembered Sister Wayne’s name. After that first time he spoke aloud in her class, how could he forget it? She was like a plague, a disease that infested his every pore. She didn’t even bother with the other kids in her class anymore. Every day, for a whole week, she would call on him to stand, state that she hoped he learned his lesson from last time, and then smacked him when he continued to stutter. By the end of that first week, he wanted to crawl into a corner and die.
So, he was rather glad when Sister Wayne didn’t call on him at all the next Monday. Relief flooded his veins. Maybe she had given up on him altogether?
But his joy was to be short lived. At the end of that class, Sister Wayne said that she wanted to see him after dinner in her office. He nodded mutely, face full of dread.
The rest of the day was a blur. Nobody talked to him. Nobody ever talked to him. They didn’t sit next to him in class. It was as if they thought his bad luck would catch. Maybe they were right. Maybe it would.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
That night, when the Joker went to see Sister Wayne, he brought a pocket knife with him. He didn’t know why. Maybe for protection. Maybe to kill her. It didn’t matter much either way. He knew she could overpower him if she wanted to. He just hoped all she would do was make him read from the damned book as usual. He could deal with that.
When he entered her study, Sister Wayne was faced away from the door. “Come here, -----. Stand in front of me.”
He went, obediently.
She held out the book for him to read. “You may begin.”
The Joker hesitated, then took the large volume with his small hands. He glanced up at her. She was looking away, out the window. He looked down at the book, gulped, and then began to read. “I r-read somewhere once tha-tuh the decision to kiss for the firs-tuh time is the mos-tuh crucial in any lo-veh story - i-tuh changes the r-relationship-puh of two people m-much more strong-leeyuh than e-even the f-f-final surren-der, be-cause this kiss alrea-dee has with-in-i-tuh tha-tuh s-surrender.”
He waited. He knew that he spoke the whole thing incorrectly, even worse than usual. He completely massacred it, as Sister Wayne would say. But what could he do? He was so nervous. And besides, she never let him finish the whole paragraph before. So maybe he didn’t do as bad as he thought.
But one glance at the tilt of Sister Wayne’s brow told him otherwise. She was not pleased.
“Don’t you think,” she began, calmly and slowly, as if she was trying to convince a very stupid person to agree with her, “that this should have been included in the scriptures?”
The Joker paused, surprised at this blasphemous statement, but unsure how to answer.
She turned her head quickly away from the window towards him and peered at him over her spectacles. “Well?”
“I, uh, g-guess so.” He hoped that was what she wanted to hear.
“You guess so?” She turned her nose up at him, looking as if she smelled something very unpleasant. “We do not guess here. There is only the Word of the Lord. There is only fact. There is only what I say.” She paused, the tilted reached up and took his chin inbetween her fingers, tightly gripping it. “You cannot read properly. I daresay your writing is much better.” She hasn’t even seen his writing, the Joker thought unfairly. He was actually quite intelligent and logical. She wasn’t even giving him a chance. He remained silent while she continued her rant. “You are an eyesore. You must be cleansed before you can be brought before the Lord. Yes, you must be cleansed…” She paused thoughtfully, then released his jaw. “Do you want to be cleansed? Do you want the Lord God, savior of us all, to love you and accept you into heaven when you move on from the earthly realm?”
The Joker nodded. He would agree to whatever she wanted, it seemed like the only way he would be allowed to leave.
She smiled wickedly at him. “That’s a good boy. Take off your pants.”
He blinked, not sure that he heard her correctly.
She looked at him sternly. “Don’t make me say it again.”
The Joker took off his pants quickly, trying to think of a way out of this horrible situation.
“And your underwear, too,” Sister Wayne said sternly.
He removed his underwear, letting it fall to his ankles with his pants.
“That’s a good little boy.” The Joker looked away while she eyed his penis specutively. “Well, it seems as if the Good Lord has made you good for something,” she raised her eyebrows and him and licked her lips.
The Joker shivered with fear.
“Oh, come now. There’s no need to be ashamed! Why, our Heavenly Father has blessed you with a gift.” She wrapped her hand tightly, painfully, around the Joker’s flaccid penis. “I think you should use it.”
She pulled on his penis a few times, short but firm, then said, “Now release the evil spirits that have been possessing you…”
He came, obediently.
Without pausing to let him catch his breath, Sister Wayne stood up and began lifting up her skirt. “That was very good, -----. But there is more evil around you still. I can sense it. We need to continue if you wish to be welcomed into Heaven with God’s grace and love.”
The rest of the night passed in a blur. The Joker only remembered staring at the wax falling slowly down the sides of the candles on the Sister’s mantle.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The next day, he wrote his parents the following letter:
Dear Mom and Dad,
It’s horrible here. I hate it. They’re hurting me, and I’m not learning anything. Sister Wayne smacks me with a yardstick and made me do things to her. I don’t like it. Can I come home? I promise I’ll be a good boy. I promise. Please?
Love, -----
That afternoon, Sister Wayne said that she would like to continue his confessions. She thought it was helping him. He did not reply or move, knowing that it wouldn’t matter one way or the other.
His ‘confessions’ with Sister Wayne continued every night that week. He continued to bring the pocket knife, but never used it.
At the end of the week, his received this reply from his parents:
Dearest -----.
We know it’s hard for you that the nuns are so strict. But that’s why Saint Luke’s is the best place for you right now. We don’t have the time or energy anymore to try and fix all of the problems you cause. We are sorry that you are having a rough time, but we trust that Sister Wayne, and all of the other nuns, know what’s best for you. Catholic schools are tough, remember? We warned you it would be like this. Try to be good and do what the nuns say. Make sure to study harder so when we see you on Christmas vacation you can tell us about how great you’re doing in all of your classes.
Love, Mom and Dad
The letter was like receiving a death sentence. His parents didn’t understand what he meant, that had to be it. He would try again.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The next day, a new student transferred in to Saint Luke’s. It was a boy around the Joker’s age, who looked haughty in a subdued way.
Sister Wayne called the class to order, which was pointless, because no one was speaking anyway. “Attention, class. We have a new student transferring here today.” Sister Wayne looked around at all of us, then she looked proudly down at the student. “This is my nephew, Bruce Wayne.”
Oh great, the Joker thought, just what we need. Another Wayne.
How could he not hate the boy on sight?
Sister Wayne continued, “Please make sure he’s looked after. If I hear about anyone giving him any trouble, it’ll be straight to my office, do you understand?”
The Joker wasn’t sure if the rest of the class understood, but he sure as hell did.
Bruce came up next to the Joker and asked, “Excuse me, um…”
The Joker blinked, momentarily surprised. Then he replied, “-----.”
Bruce smiled, looking relieved. “-----, then. Is this seat taken?” He was pointing to the seat next to the Joker.
“Um. Wha-tuh?” The Joker looked very confused.
Bruce’s smile faded a bit. “May I sit here?”
“S-sure,” the Joker replied, motioning with his hand for Bruce to go ahead.
Sister Wayne watched this exchange with disgust clearly written on her face. Once Bruce was seated, she asked him to read the paragraph.
Bruce nodded and stood up, confidently. He licked his lips, then began to read. "I read somewhere once that the decision to kiss for the first time is the most crucial in any love story -- it changes the relationship of two people much more strongly than even the final surrender, because this kiss already has within it that surrender.” When he was finished, there was silence. Sister Wayne had a haughty grin on her face.
The Joker’s mouth hung open in shock. Bruce had spoken it perfectly.
It was at that moment, that exact instant, that the Joker first wanted to kill Bruce Wayne.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The next few weeks passed by in much the same manner. Bruce was always excelling in class. The Joker loathed him for it. All Sister Wayne ever said to the Joker was, “Why can’t you be more like my Bruce?” What was he supposed to do, switch his DNA?
The Joker was thinking about the unfairness of the situation when Sister Wayne called on him in the middle of class. She noticed that he wasn’t paying attention, and hit him with the yardstick.
The Joker was shocked. Not by the hitting, he was used to that already. But ever since he had gone to see her at nights, she had left him alone during the day. And she had hit him really hard, too. The Joker could feel a bruise already starting to form.
Bruce, who had never seen his aunt this way before, was stunned. He was close enough to see how hard the Joker had been hit with the yardstick, which the other students were not. Bruce’s eyes looked at his aunt for reassurance, and found none. Then he looked at the Joker, who was trying to sit down with a pained look on his face as Sister Wayne turned away.
When his aunt couldn’t see, Bruce took off his jacket and put it on the Joker’s chair.
The Joker looked at him quickly, surprised. Bruce looked sympathetic, and spread his hands out to indicate it was all he could do. The Joker nodded, smiled a little, and sat down on Bruce’s handmade cushion.
Bruce smiled back.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The Joker began an unsteady friendship with Bruce. They would eat lunch together and study together. Sometimes, when Sister Wayne was busy working at night, they would just get together to talk. The Joker never mentioned the abuse. If Bruce noticed anything else, he never asked.
It didn’t take long for Sister Wayne to catch on, and then degrade the Joker even more. “You’re lucky he even notices you at all,” she would say. The Joker didn’t understand why it was such a crazy idea for people to notice him. He was a living, breathing human being. When he walked down the street, it wasn’t as if people tried to walk into him because he was invisible. He thought Sister Wayne needed to go over the part of the Bible that said “Love Thy Neighbor” again.
One night, while she was forcing his penis inside of her, she said, “He just pities you because you’re worthless. You should thank the Lord that someone pities you. You deserve people’s pity.” Then she screamed, slapped him across the face, and pulled out some of his hair.
The Joker was beginning to associate pain with sex, and he wasn’t sure that it wasn’t supposed to be that way for everyone. When he looked at Bruce, he wondered if the other boy felt the same.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The Joker tried to ignore the nights with Sister Wayne as best he could. His parents never wrote back to him again, and he suspected that the nuns had confiscated the letter before it even left the mailbox. He knew he was stuck, at least until he was eighteen, and he thought he may as well make the best of what he had.
And what he had was a really great friend in Bruce Wayne. The other boy and him had gotten along really well. Bruce didn’t even mind the Joker’s speech impediment. They found themselves having long conversations about anything and everything. Religion, politics, likes, dislikes. Both were very intelligent, opinionated boys, and they were happy to have someone else their age who they could talk to.
One night, when Sister Wayne was busy working, and all the boys I the Joker’s dorm room had gone out to spend the night with their friends, the Joker invited Bruce over to spend the night. Bruce agreed excitedly, and they began animatedly discussing what sort of things they could do together with a whole night to themselves.
When Bruce came over, the Joker had out a deck of cards. He smiled and asked, “You wan-tuh to play rummy?”
Bruce nodded and put his things down. “Sure. Here, let me shuffle.”
The Joker handed Bruce the cards. Bruce began to shuffle, but stopped and pulled out a card. He flipped it over for the Joker to see. “Why is the joker card still in the deck?”
The Joker shrugged. “I like it.”
But Bruce shook his head. “The joker’s a useless card. It doesn’t have any value. It’s just a waste of space. I always throw mine out.”
Tilting his head inquisitively, the Joker replied, ‘Really? I always thin-kuh of the joker as the wild car-duh, the car-duh that none of the o-other cards can beat.”
He shrugged while Bruce laughed. They were both smiling when the Joker stretched and Bruce saw a red welt on his stomach.
“Oh my God, -----! What is that?” Bruce yelled, letting the cards fall as he ran over to inspect the Joker’s stomach.
“Shh, it’s n-nothing. Be careful wha-tuh you say, the nuns will c-come to yell at us,” the Joker replied, trying to shift the topic.
“It’s not nothing! Let me see.” Bruce tried to lift up the Joker’s shirt, but the Joker resisted. “Come on, -----, don’t be like that. I’m just trying to help.”
And the Joker knew Bruce wasn’t lying. But that didn’t change the fact that he was in a very close proximity and trying to remove the Joker’s shirt. It was making the Joker feel things for Bruce that he had been trying to ignore. But why ignore it? The Joker reasoned with himself that whatever Sister Wayne said had to be wrong, which meant that the opposite was right.
Sister Wayne believed the Bible was right, so was it wrong? The Joker didn’t know. But he did know that whenever she beat him, she would yell at him to not kill, to not steal, to not lie, and that homosexuality was wrong. She would yell at him to respect his parents, to value other human life, to praise God for His divine mercy. She would state each command as if she herself was the Lord. The Joker couldn’t stand it anymore.
So what if he had feelings for Bruce that went beyond friendship? What could it hurt to try, just to see?
The Joker laid still so that Bruce could take off his shirt. Bruce did so, and a pained look crossed his face at the sight of the Joker’s scars.
Bruce said his name, whispered it, like a prayer.
The Joker just laid there with Bruce sitting on top of him, waiting for Bruce to finally notice his erection. Bruce did in a matter of seconds, and looked down at his own growing penis, then back at the Joker. His eyes were full of fear and surprise.
“It’s okay,” the Joker smiled, putting his hand up to Bruce’s cheek affectionately. “I wan-tuh you to do w-whatever you wan-tuh.”
Bruce nodded, his breathing shallow. He whispered the Joker’s name again, and kissed him.
The Joker had never been kissed before. He could feel Bruce’s love for him with the curve of his lips. Both boys smiled, surprised but excited.
The next part happened quickly, and all the Joker remembers is his seduction of Bruce. he wanted to think of it as more, but he couldn’t. Not when he egged Bruce on like that.
The following days were hard for both boys. The Joker wouldn’t look at Bruce or talk to him, and Bruce didn’t know why. After a week of this, Bruce could no longer stand it. He went up to the Joker when they were alone on the playground and punched him in the face.
The Joker kinda liked it.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The next day, when the Joker still didn’t talk to Bruce, Bruce slammed him up against the wall.
“Why won’t you talk to me? I thought we were friends! What did I do wrong? Whatever it is, I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry!” Bruce was on the verge of tears, but the Joker ignored them, and kissed him.
“Hit me,” the Joker said, his heart racing at the thought.
Bruce took a step back. “What?”
“Hit me,” the Joker repeated, and then, “Please?”
“Why? I thought you were mad I punched you,” Bruce said it quickly and awkwardly, unsure of how to reply to the Joker’s request.
The Joker shook his head. “No, I like it.” At Bruce’s surprised expression, the Joker repeated himself more fervently, “I wan-tuh you to do it. Hit me.”
Something in Bruce’s eyes changed, got harder, became something else. He hit the Joker, hard.
The Joker laughed. “Again.”
Bruce punched him harder.
The Joker laughed harder. “Again.”
Bruce punched him so hard that he fell down. The Joker was smiling, cackling, and pulled Bruce down to kiss him. When Bruce landed on top of the Joker, he punched his face. The Joker lifted his pelvis up to meet Bruce’s, and he felt that Bruce had an erection to match his own.
“This is fucked up,” Bruce said inbetween kisses and punches.
The Joker tilted his head. “Is it?”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The next night, Sister Wayne noticed that the Joker had been with someone else. She grew instantly furious, and took out a leather belt with a wide gold buckle.
Sister Wayne directed him to strip while she questioned him. “Who has been touching you besides me? I have informed all of the nuns that you are mine. Was it one of them? Did one of them disobey me? Or was it one of the boys? Have you fallen so deeply into sin now that you have committed sodomy? That is a grave sin against our Lord the Almighty God. How will he ever let you into heaven now?”
The Joker threw off the last of his clothes, leaving his pants with the pocketknife in them close by. He wasn’t planning on going to heaven, not after tonight.
“Well, we shall try to make amends. Come here and bend down.” Sister Wayne had laid down, taking off her skirt to reveal her vagina. The Joker had suffered this before. He went to her, and put his lips on her, sticking his tongue inside. He hid the pocketknife in his palm when she wasn’t looking. He hoped he could make the pain last.
She thrust into his mouth, and he was disgusted. “Moan for me,” she ordered, and he did.
Out of nowhere, the Joker felt a hard metal thing hit his butt hard. He looked up, confused and in pain.
“Did I tell you to stop? Continue if you want God’s divine forgiveness,” Sister Wayne was swinging the belt back and forth, and hit him with it again. He jumped. “Continue,” she commanded. He did.
About ten minutes into this, the door opened. It was Bruce. Everyone was shocked into silence.
Sister Wayne was the first to recover, screaming, “Get off of me, you horrible brute! Oh Bruce, did you see what he was doing to me?” She tried to cry, but couldn’t quite summon up the tears.
Bruce was no idiot. She was the one holding the belt, and the Joker was the one with true tears in his eyes. She was at least three times his size. There was no way she wouldn’t have been able to fight him off.
This explained everything. The Joker’s scars, why he liked to be hit, and why he was never available to hang out at night.
Bruce was disgusted with his aunt. He couldn’t believe what she had done to his best friend. To his lover. He wanted to throw up.
“Brucie?” Sister Wayne asked quietly, hopefully, reaching out her had to him.
“Get away from me, you evil bitch!” Bruce smacked her hand away, and immediately wanted to wash it. “-----, come here, now!”
The Joker got up, still naked, and went over to Bruce.
Bruce looked at him, at the blood covering his body, and began to cry. He whispered, “For God’s sake, get your clothes.”
“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain! You’ll be damned to hell if you do,” Sister Wayne looked at her nephew with contempt.
“You’re one to talk! I can’t believe you would do something like this. Who are you? What have you done to the nice aunt who always buys me an Easter present? I’m telling the police, I have to,” Bruce was talking quickly, to everyone and no one all at once.
Sister Wayne looked enraged. “Are you the one he’s been seeing?”
Bruce cocked his head angrily. “What if I am?!”
The Joker took this opportunity, now fully clothed, to stab Sister Wayne in the ribs with his pocketknife. She screamed, holding onto her side.
“You’ll burn for this, do you hear me? You’ll burn!” She was bleeding badly, but not enough to kill her. The Joker was happy about that.
“No. You will,” he smiled and reached his hand up to strike again.
But Sister Wayne was too quick. She pulled the knife out of his hands. “How dare you smile like that at me! How dare you?!” She grabbed his face inbetween her left hand and lifted him up off the floor. When Bruce came to pull the Joker down, she knocked him out of the way, and Bruce fell back onto the floor, unconscious.
“See what you made me do? My own nephew! Why are you still smiling?!” She was hysterical now. The Joker would keep smiling if it pissed her off this much. He wanted to see her suffer.
Sister Wayne took the pocketknife to the edge of his mouth. “I’ll make sure God remembers this! I’ll make sure God knows! He won’t let you into heaven now! You’ll be lucky if hell takes you!” She quickly and forcefully slid the blade through the Joker’s lip and up into his cheek. He screamed. Sister Wayne laughed. “That’s right, scream, beg! Nothing will help you now! Everyone will look at you and know how dirty you are! They’ll all know what you’ve done! You won’t ever be able to have a normal life again! You should have just shut up and let me cleanse you of your sins, but now it’s too late!” And then she made a second, matching scar in his other cheek.
The Joker screamed again, blood dripping down his face. He was crazed with fury, and kicked her in the stomach. She didn’t drop him, but he was able to pry the pocketknife out of her fingers. He jammed it inbetween her eyes.
Sister Wayne stood still for a moment, then fell, her hold on the Joker loosening as she went down. The Joker jumped away before she fell.
He stood over her dead body with a mixture of triumph and disappointment.
She was finally gone.
He just wished he could have tortured her before she died.
Turning around, he grabbed Bruce’s unconscious body and dragged it up onto the roof. The night stars glittered like diamonds above their heads, and the Joker was truly happy for the first time in as long as he could remember.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The Joker didn’t know how long it took for Bruce to wake up, but by the time he did, the whole world had changed. Bruce just didn’t know it yet.
Bruce got up groggily, looking around until he saw the Joker on the far side of the roof. He slowly stood and walked over, noticing the Joker’s wounds more clearly the closer he got to him.
By the time he reached the Joker, Bruce’s face fell in an expression of utter sadness and pity. He stopped walking and said, “I’m sorry, -----.” Because really, what else could he say?
The Joker looked around, and seeing that no one else was there, asked, “Are you talking to me?”
Bruce’s brows furrowed in concern, and he nodded.
The Joker cocked his head to the side and raised one eyebrow, looking at Bruce as if the other boy had lost his mind. “Why are you sorry? Who’s -----?”
Bruce shook his head, confused. “Wait, what? What are you talking about?”
Exasperated, the Joker rolled his eyes and repeated himself, raising both his eyebrows and pointing a finger at his face. “My name is The Joker.”
Bruce whispered, “Like the card?”
The Joker’s eyebrows lowered, then he slowly grinned and nodded.
Horror was clear on Bruce’s face, and the Joker smiled a huge grin, the fresh scars stretched wide across his cheeks. While wiping the knife off on his pants, leaving behind a smear of Sister Wayne’s blood, he laughed, “Oh, come on! Why so serious?”
fin.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Comments light up my soul and my day! ^__^*
Author: siriuslyyellow
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): Bruce/Joker, Nolanverse, AU, important female OC, slash, het, angst, cursing, violence, sex, pedo, S&M, rape, abuse, and some fucked-up religious shit.
Spoilers: Batman Begins and The Dark Knight. I don’t really think there’s any spoilers, but you know, just to be safe!
Word Count: 4,826
Challenge: MayPhoenix, Bruce/Joker, candles, seduction, toothbrush, "I read somewhere once that the decision to kiss for the first time is the most crucial in any love story -- it changes the relationship of two people much more strongly than even the final surrender, because this kiss already has within it that surrender."
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the Batman series, Batman Begins, or The Dark Knight. Obviously. There’d be more hot gay S&M sex if I had any say in the matter! ^_____^** The dialogue line is a quote from Emil Ludwig, although I have zero idea the context in which it was said. ^.^;;
Beta Acknowledgement: kowaiyoukai, thank you so much for all your help on this! It really wouldn’t be as good without your input! ^__^*
Summary: The Joker attends a Catholic school where the head nun abuses him. Then a new student transfers in, and everything changes.
A/N: This fic is for the December ’08 round of bjts_monthlyfic. First off, my apologies for how late this is! I kept trying to improve it, and it needs a bunch more work, but this version is not bad, and it’s so late that I just wanted to turn it in. Sorry! Anywho, so, yeah. This dialogue line is e-fucking-normous! And it doesn’t sound like someone’s actually saying it. It sounds more like part of an essay or something. Because of that, I could only think of having someone read it aloud out of a book. So really, you all have MayPhoenix to blame for this being AU, not me! -.-;; I hope you like this fic, MayPhoenix, I know it’s weird, but I tried my best! (It probably doesn’t help that I just finished reading the non-fiction book “Switching Time” by Dr. Richard Baer.) ^-^;; I tried to incorporate some lines from TDK where I thought they’d fit. I also used the idea that the Joker is the Joker because of Batman. Anyway, that’s sorta what I was going for, a different explanation of how it all went down. It all ended up way longer and more involved than I thought it would, lol. Enjoy! ^__^*
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The first thing the Joker can remember are the nuns. Their habits seemed daunting and unnecessary to his ten-year-old mind. During his first day at Saint Luke’s, the head nun, Sister Wayne, asked him to read aloud in class, and he stood up dutifully. Her habit loomed over him like a ghost, and he was frightened. Still, he had seen other students doing this already today. It wouldn’t be so bad.
He cleared his throat, then began to read aloud from the text. “I r-read somewhere once tha-tuh the decision to-”
Sister Wayne had slapped his butt with a yard stick. “What are you doing? You’re destroying this beautiful piece of literature!” Her yelp was piercing, almost too shrill to make out the words. “Why are you emphasizing the wrong words? Don’t emphasize ‘to’! Emphasize ‘most’! Start again!”
He tried again. Four words in, she smacked the yard stick against his butt again.
She looked at him sharply, peering over the rims of her glasses. “Why are you stuttering? What’s wrong with you? How is God supposed to hear you if you keep tumbling over your words? Read it again, and properly this time!”
The Joker looked around the room for any sign of help from his classmates, but they all were turning away, avoiding looking at the scene Sister Wayne was making. Not that he blamed them. He wouldn’t have helped them even if they begged him for it.
He just didn’t realize everyone thought that way. He thought some people cared.
As he continued to repeat the process of starting the paragraph, getting slapped with the yardstick, and starting again, he wondered why they were even reading this particular piece of writing, anyway. Why did Sister Wayne care if he stuttered over this? It wasn’t the Holy Bible.
That night, when the Joker got to his dorm room, took off his pants, and soaked his burning butt I the bathtub, he fancied himself with the idea of Sister Wayne being a closet pedophile. The paragraph sounded like something out of a romance novel, she got way too angry when he didn’t read it to her specifications, and then she smacked him.
He went to bed that night, lying on his stomach, thinking of how to get revenge.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The Joker doesn’t remember his real name. When he was a schoolboy, the nuns would call him by it, but he still can’t remember it. They would say, “Pass your work to the front, -----.” And the Joker knew that they addressed him by a name, and it wasn’t ‘the Joker’. He just can’t remember what it was.
He remembered Sister Wayne’s name. After that first time he spoke aloud in her class, how could he forget it? She was like a plague, a disease that infested his every pore. She didn’t even bother with the other kids in her class anymore. Every day, for a whole week, she would call on him to stand, state that she hoped he learned his lesson from last time, and then smacked him when he continued to stutter. By the end of that first week, he wanted to crawl into a corner and die.
So, he was rather glad when Sister Wayne didn’t call on him at all the next Monday. Relief flooded his veins. Maybe she had given up on him altogether?
But his joy was to be short lived. At the end of that class, Sister Wayne said that she wanted to see him after dinner in her office. He nodded mutely, face full of dread.
The rest of the day was a blur. Nobody talked to him. Nobody ever talked to him. They didn’t sit next to him in class. It was as if they thought his bad luck would catch. Maybe they were right. Maybe it would.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
That night, when the Joker went to see Sister Wayne, he brought a pocket knife with him. He didn’t know why. Maybe for protection. Maybe to kill her. It didn’t matter much either way. He knew she could overpower him if she wanted to. He just hoped all she would do was make him read from the damned book as usual. He could deal with that.
When he entered her study, Sister Wayne was faced away from the door. “Come here, -----. Stand in front of me.”
He went, obediently.
She held out the book for him to read. “You may begin.”
The Joker hesitated, then took the large volume with his small hands. He glanced up at her. She was looking away, out the window. He looked down at the book, gulped, and then began to read. “I r-read somewhere once tha-tuh the decision to kiss for the firs-tuh time is the mos-tuh crucial in any lo-veh story - i-tuh changes the r-relationship-puh of two people m-much more strong-leeyuh than e-even the f-f-final surren-der, be-cause this kiss alrea-dee has with-in-i-tuh tha-tuh s-surrender.”
He waited. He knew that he spoke the whole thing incorrectly, even worse than usual. He completely massacred it, as Sister Wayne would say. But what could he do? He was so nervous. And besides, she never let him finish the whole paragraph before. So maybe he didn’t do as bad as he thought.
But one glance at the tilt of Sister Wayne’s brow told him otherwise. She was not pleased.
“Don’t you think,” she began, calmly and slowly, as if she was trying to convince a very stupid person to agree with her, “that this should have been included in the scriptures?”
The Joker paused, surprised at this blasphemous statement, but unsure how to answer.
She turned her head quickly away from the window towards him and peered at him over her spectacles. “Well?”
“I, uh, g-guess so.” He hoped that was what she wanted to hear.
“You guess so?” She turned her nose up at him, looking as if she smelled something very unpleasant. “We do not guess here. There is only the Word of the Lord. There is only fact. There is only what I say.” She paused, the tilted reached up and took his chin inbetween her fingers, tightly gripping it. “You cannot read properly. I daresay your writing is much better.” She hasn’t even seen his writing, the Joker thought unfairly. He was actually quite intelligent and logical. She wasn’t even giving him a chance. He remained silent while she continued her rant. “You are an eyesore. You must be cleansed before you can be brought before the Lord. Yes, you must be cleansed…” She paused thoughtfully, then released his jaw. “Do you want to be cleansed? Do you want the Lord God, savior of us all, to love you and accept you into heaven when you move on from the earthly realm?”
The Joker nodded. He would agree to whatever she wanted, it seemed like the only way he would be allowed to leave.
She smiled wickedly at him. “That’s a good boy. Take off your pants.”
He blinked, not sure that he heard her correctly.
She looked at him sternly. “Don’t make me say it again.”
The Joker took off his pants quickly, trying to think of a way out of this horrible situation.
“And your underwear, too,” Sister Wayne said sternly.
He removed his underwear, letting it fall to his ankles with his pants.
“That’s a good little boy.” The Joker looked away while she eyed his penis specutively. “Well, it seems as if the Good Lord has made you good for something,” she raised her eyebrows and him and licked her lips.
The Joker shivered with fear.
“Oh, come now. There’s no need to be ashamed! Why, our Heavenly Father has blessed you with a gift.” She wrapped her hand tightly, painfully, around the Joker’s flaccid penis. “I think you should use it.”
She pulled on his penis a few times, short but firm, then said, “Now release the evil spirits that have been possessing you…”
He came, obediently.
Without pausing to let him catch his breath, Sister Wayne stood up and began lifting up her skirt. “That was very good, -----. But there is more evil around you still. I can sense it. We need to continue if you wish to be welcomed into Heaven with God’s grace and love.”
The rest of the night passed in a blur. The Joker only remembered staring at the wax falling slowly down the sides of the candles on the Sister’s mantle.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The next day, he wrote his parents the following letter:
Dear Mom and Dad,
It’s horrible here. I hate it. They’re hurting me, and I’m not learning anything. Sister Wayne smacks me with a yardstick and made me do things to her. I don’t like it. Can I come home? I promise I’ll be a good boy. I promise. Please?
Love, -----
That afternoon, Sister Wayne said that she would like to continue his confessions. She thought it was helping him. He did not reply or move, knowing that it wouldn’t matter one way or the other.
His ‘confessions’ with Sister Wayne continued every night that week. He continued to bring the pocket knife, but never used it.
At the end of the week, his received this reply from his parents:
Dearest -----.
We know it’s hard for you that the nuns are so strict. But that’s why Saint Luke’s is the best place for you right now. We don’t have the time or energy anymore to try and fix all of the problems you cause. We are sorry that you are having a rough time, but we trust that Sister Wayne, and all of the other nuns, know what’s best for you. Catholic schools are tough, remember? We warned you it would be like this. Try to be good and do what the nuns say. Make sure to study harder so when we see you on Christmas vacation you can tell us about how great you’re doing in all of your classes.
Love, Mom and Dad
The letter was like receiving a death sentence. His parents didn’t understand what he meant, that had to be it. He would try again.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The next day, a new student transferred in to Saint Luke’s. It was a boy around the Joker’s age, who looked haughty in a subdued way.
Sister Wayne called the class to order, which was pointless, because no one was speaking anyway. “Attention, class. We have a new student transferring here today.” Sister Wayne looked around at all of us, then she looked proudly down at the student. “This is my nephew, Bruce Wayne.”
Oh great, the Joker thought, just what we need. Another Wayne.
How could he not hate the boy on sight?
Sister Wayne continued, “Please make sure he’s looked after. If I hear about anyone giving him any trouble, it’ll be straight to my office, do you understand?”
The Joker wasn’t sure if the rest of the class understood, but he sure as hell did.
Bruce came up next to the Joker and asked, “Excuse me, um…”
The Joker blinked, momentarily surprised. Then he replied, “-----.”
Bruce smiled, looking relieved. “-----, then. Is this seat taken?” He was pointing to the seat next to the Joker.
“Um. Wha-tuh?” The Joker looked very confused.
Bruce’s smile faded a bit. “May I sit here?”
“S-sure,” the Joker replied, motioning with his hand for Bruce to go ahead.
Sister Wayne watched this exchange with disgust clearly written on her face. Once Bruce was seated, she asked him to read the paragraph.
Bruce nodded and stood up, confidently. He licked his lips, then began to read. "I read somewhere once that the decision to kiss for the first time is the most crucial in any love story -- it changes the relationship of two people much more strongly than even the final surrender, because this kiss already has within it that surrender.” When he was finished, there was silence. Sister Wayne had a haughty grin on her face.
The Joker’s mouth hung open in shock. Bruce had spoken it perfectly.
It was at that moment, that exact instant, that the Joker first wanted to kill Bruce Wayne.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The next few weeks passed by in much the same manner. Bruce was always excelling in class. The Joker loathed him for it. All Sister Wayne ever said to the Joker was, “Why can’t you be more like my Bruce?” What was he supposed to do, switch his DNA?
The Joker was thinking about the unfairness of the situation when Sister Wayne called on him in the middle of class. She noticed that he wasn’t paying attention, and hit him with the yardstick.
The Joker was shocked. Not by the hitting, he was used to that already. But ever since he had gone to see her at nights, she had left him alone during the day. And she had hit him really hard, too. The Joker could feel a bruise already starting to form.
Bruce, who had never seen his aunt this way before, was stunned. He was close enough to see how hard the Joker had been hit with the yardstick, which the other students were not. Bruce’s eyes looked at his aunt for reassurance, and found none. Then he looked at the Joker, who was trying to sit down with a pained look on his face as Sister Wayne turned away.
When his aunt couldn’t see, Bruce took off his jacket and put it on the Joker’s chair.
The Joker looked at him quickly, surprised. Bruce looked sympathetic, and spread his hands out to indicate it was all he could do. The Joker nodded, smiled a little, and sat down on Bruce’s handmade cushion.
Bruce smiled back.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The Joker began an unsteady friendship with Bruce. They would eat lunch together and study together. Sometimes, when Sister Wayne was busy working at night, they would just get together to talk. The Joker never mentioned the abuse. If Bruce noticed anything else, he never asked.
It didn’t take long for Sister Wayne to catch on, and then degrade the Joker even more. “You’re lucky he even notices you at all,” she would say. The Joker didn’t understand why it was such a crazy idea for people to notice him. He was a living, breathing human being. When he walked down the street, it wasn’t as if people tried to walk into him because he was invisible. He thought Sister Wayne needed to go over the part of the Bible that said “Love Thy Neighbor” again.
One night, while she was forcing his penis inside of her, she said, “He just pities you because you’re worthless. You should thank the Lord that someone pities you. You deserve people’s pity.” Then she screamed, slapped him across the face, and pulled out some of his hair.
The Joker was beginning to associate pain with sex, and he wasn’t sure that it wasn’t supposed to be that way for everyone. When he looked at Bruce, he wondered if the other boy felt the same.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The Joker tried to ignore the nights with Sister Wayne as best he could. His parents never wrote back to him again, and he suspected that the nuns had confiscated the letter before it even left the mailbox. He knew he was stuck, at least until he was eighteen, and he thought he may as well make the best of what he had.
And what he had was a really great friend in Bruce Wayne. The other boy and him had gotten along really well. Bruce didn’t even mind the Joker’s speech impediment. They found themselves having long conversations about anything and everything. Religion, politics, likes, dislikes. Both were very intelligent, opinionated boys, and they were happy to have someone else their age who they could talk to.
One night, when Sister Wayne was busy working, and all the boys I the Joker’s dorm room had gone out to spend the night with their friends, the Joker invited Bruce over to spend the night. Bruce agreed excitedly, and they began animatedly discussing what sort of things they could do together with a whole night to themselves.
When Bruce came over, the Joker had out a deck of cards. He smiled and asked, “You wan-tuh to play rummy?”
Bruce nodded and put his things down. “Sure. Here, let me shuffle.”
The Joker handed Bruce the cards. Bruce began to shuffle, but stopped and pulled out a card. He flipped it over for the Joker to see. “Why is the joker card still in the deck?”
The Joker shrugged. “I like it.”
But Bruce shook his head. “The joker’s a useless card. It doesn’t have any value. It’s just a waste of space. I always throw mine out.”
Tilting his head inquisitively, the Joker replied, ‘Really? I always thin-kuh of the joker as the wild car-duh, the car-duh that none of the o-other cards can beat.”
He shrugged while Bruce laughed. They were both smiling when the Joker stretched and Bruce saw a red welt on his stomach.
“Oh my God, -----! What is that?” Bruce yelled, letting the cards fall as he ran over to inspect the Joker’s stomach.
“Shh, it’s n-nothing. Be careful wha-tuh you say, the nuns will c-come to yell at us,” the Joker replied, trying to shift the topic.
“It’s not nothing! Let me see.” Bruce tried to lift up the Joker’s shirt, but the Joker resisted. “Come on, -----, don’t be like that. I’m just trying to help.”
And the Joker knew Bruce wasn’t lying. But that didn’t change the fact that he was in a very close proximity and trying to remove the Joker’s shirt. It was making the Joker feel things for Bruce that he had been trying to ignore. But why ignore it? The Joker reasoned with himself that whatever Sister Wayne said had to be wrong, which meant that the opposite was right.
Sister Wayne believed the Bible was right, so was it wrong? The Joker didn’t know. But he did know that whenever she beat him, she would yell at him to not kill, to not steal, to not lie, and that homosexuality was wrong. She would yell at him to respect his parents, to value other human life, to praise God for His divine mercy. She would state each command as if she herself was the Lord. The Joker couldn’t stand it anymore.
So what if he had feelings for Bruce that went beyond friendship? What could it hurt to try, just to see?
The Joker laid still so that Bruce could take off his shirt. Bruce did so, and a pained look crossed his face at the sight of the Joker’s scars.
Bruce said his name, whispered it, like a prayer.
The Joker just laid there with Bruce sitting on top of him, waiting for Bruce to finally notice his erection. Bruce did in a matter of seconds, and looked down at his own growing penis, then back at the Joker. His eyes were full of fear and surprise.
“It’s okay,” the Joker smiled, putting his hand up to Bruce’s cheek affectionately. “I wan-tuh you to do w-whatever you wan-tuh.”
Bruce nodded, his breathing shallow. He whispered the Joker’s name again, and kissed him.
The Joker had never been kissed before. He could feel Bruce’s love for him with the curve of his lips. Both boys smiled, surprised but excited.
The next part happened quickly, and all the Joker remembers is his seduction of Bruce. he wanted to think of it as more, but he couldn’t. Not when he egged Bruce on like that.
The following days were hard for both boys. The Joker wouldn’t look at Bruce or talk to him, and Bruce didn’t know why. After a week of this, Bruce could no longer stand it. He went up to the Joker when they were alone on the playground and punched him in the face.
The Joker kinda liked it.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The next day, when the Joker still didn’t talk to Bruce, Bruce slammed him up against the wall.
“Why won’t you talk to me? I thought we were friends! What did I do wrong? Whatever it is, I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry!” Bruce was on the verge of tears, but the Joker ignored them, and kissed him.
“Hit me,” the Joker said, his heart racing at the thought.
Bruce took a step back. “What?”
“Hit me,” the Joker repeated, and then, “Please?”
“Why? I thought you were mad I punched you,” Bruce said it quickly and awkwardly, unsure of how to reply to the Joker’s request.
The Joker shook his head. “No, I like it.” At Bruce’s surprised expression, the Joker repeated himself more fervently, “I wan-tuh you to do it. Hit me.”
Something in Bruce’s eyes changed, got harder, became something else. He hit the Joker, hard.
The Joker laughed. “Again.”
Bruce punched him harder.
The Joker laughed harder. “Again.”
Bruce punched him so hard that he fell down. The Joker was smiling, cackling, and pulled Bruce down to kiss him. When Bruce landed on top of the Joker, he punched his face. The Joker lifted his pelvis up to meet Bruce’s, and he felt that Bruce had an erection to match his own.
“This is fucked up,” Bruce said inbetween kisses and punches.
The Joker tilted his head. “Is it?”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The next night, Sister Wayne noticed that the Joker had been with someone else. She grew instantly furious, and took out a leather belt with a wide gold buckle.
Sister Wayne directed him to strip while she questioned him. “Who has been touching you besides me? I have informed all of the nuns that you are mine. Was it one of them? Did one of them disobey me? Or was it one of the boys? Have you fallen so deeply into sin now that you have committed sodomy? That is a grave sin against our Lord the Almighty God. How will he ever let you into heaven now?”
The Joker threw off the last of his clothes, leaving his pants with the pocketknife in them close by. He wasn’t planning on going to heaven, not after tonight.
“Well, we shall try to make amends. Come here and bend down.” Sister Wayne had laid down, taking off her skirt to reveal her vagina. The Joker had suffered this before. He went to her, and put his lips on her, sticking his tongue inside. He hid the pocketknife in his palm when she wasn’t looking. He hoped he could make the pain last.
She thrust into his mouth, and he was disgusted. “Moan for me,” she ordered, and he did.
Out of nowhere, the Joker felt a hard metal thing hit his butt hard. He looked up, confused and in pain.
“Did I tell you to stop? Continue if you want God’s divine forgiveness,” Sister Wayne was swinging the belt back and forth, and hit him with it again. He jumped. “Continue,” she commanded. He did.
About ten minutes into this, the door opened. It was Bruce. Everyone was shocked into silence.
Sister Wayne was the first to recover, screaming, “Get off of me, you horrible brute! Oh Bruce, did you see what he was doing to me?” She tried to cry, but couldn’t quite summon up the tears.
Bruce was no idiot. She was the one holding the belt, and the Joker was the one with true tears in his eyes. She was at least three times his size. There was no way she wouldn’t have been able to fight him off.
This explained everything. The Joker’s scars, why he liked to be hit, and why he was never available to hang out at night.
Bruce was disgusted with his aunt. He couldn’t believe what she had done to his best friend. To his lover. He wanted to throw up.
“Brucie?” Sister Wayne asked quietly, hopefully, reaching out her had to him.
“Get away from me, you evil bitch!” Bruce smacked her hand away, and immediately wanted to wash it. “-----, come here, now!”
The Joker got up, still naked, and went over to Bruce.
Bruce looked at him, at the blood covering his body, and began to cry. He whispered, “For God’s sake, get your clothes.”
“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain! You’ll be damned to hell if you do,” Sister Wayne looked at her nephew with contempt.
“You’re one to talk! I can’t believe you would do something like this. Who are you? What have you done to the nice aunt who always buys me an Easter present? I’m telling the police, I have to,” Bruce was talking quickly, to everyone and no one all at once.
Sister Wayne looked enraged. “Are you the one he’s been seeing?”
Bruce cocked his head angrily. “What if I am?!”
The Joker took this opportunity, now fully clothed, to stab Sister Wayne in the ribs with his pocketknife. She screamed, holding onto her side.
“You’ll burn for this, do you hear me? You’ll burn!” She was bleeding badly, but not enough to kill her. The Joker was happy about that.
“No. You will,” he smiled and reached his hand up to strike again.
But Sister Wayne was too quick. She pulled the knife out of his hands. “How dare you smile like that at me! How dare you?!” She grabbed his face inbetween her left hand and lifted him up off the floor. When Bruce came to pull the Joker down, she knocked him out of the way, and Bruce fell back onto the floor, unconscious.
“See what you made me do? My own nephew! Why are you still smiling?!” She was hysterical now. The Joker would keep smiling if it pissed her off this much. He wanted to see her suffer.
Sister Wayne took the pocketknife to the edge of his mouth. “I’ll make sure God remembers this! I’ll make sure God knows! He won’t let you into heaven now! You’ll be lucky if hell takes you!” She quickly and forcefully slid the blade through the Joker’s lip and up into his cheek. He screamed. Sister Wayne laughed. “That’s right, scream, beg! Nothing will help you now! Everyone will look at you and know how dirty you are! They’ll all know what you’ve done! You won’t ever be able to have a normal life again! You should have just shut up and let me cleanse you of your sins, but now it’s too late!” And then she made a second, matching scar in his other cheek.
The Joker screamed again, blood dripping down his face. He was crazed with fury, and kicked her in the stomach. She didn’t drop him, but he was able to pry the pocketknife out of her fingers. He jammed it inbetween her eyes.
Sister Wayne stood still for a moment, then fell, her hold on the Joker loosening as she went down. The Joker jumped away before she fell.
He stood over her dead body with a mixture of triumph and disappointment.
She was finally gone.
He just wished he could have tortured her before she died.
Turning around, he grabbed Bruce’s unconscious body and dragged it up onto the roof. The night stars glittered like diamonds above their heads, and the Joker was truly happy for the first time in as long as he could remember.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The Joker didn’t know how long it took for Bruce to wake up, but by the time he did, the whole world had changed. Bruce just didn’t know it yet.
Bruce got up groggily, looking around until he saw the Joker on the far side of the roof. He slowly stood and walked over, noticing the Joker’s wounds more clearly the closer he got to him.
By the time he reached the Joker, Bruce’s face fell in an expression of utter sadness and pity. He stopped walking and said, “I’m sorry, -----.” Because really, what else could he say?
The Joker looked around, and seeing that no one else was there, asked, “Are you talking to me?”
Bruce’s brows furrowed in concern, and he nodded.
The Joker cocked his head to the side and raised one eyebrow, looking at Bruce as if the other boy had lost his mind. “Why are you sorry? Who’s -----?”
Bruce shook his head, confused. “Wait, what? What are you talking about?”
Exasperated, the Joker rolled his eyes and repeated himself, raising both his eyebrows and pointing a finger at his face. “My name is The Joker.”
Bruce whispered, “Like the card?”
The Joker’s eyebrows lowered, then he slowly grinned and nodded.
Horror was clear on Bruce’s face, and the Joker smiled a huge grin, the fresh scars stretched wide across his cheeks. While wiping the knife off on his pants, leaving behind a smear of Sister Wayne’s blood, he laughed, “Oh, come on! Why so serious?”
fin.
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