Joker waited until nighttime.

            He'd gathered a few henchmen to steer a hot air balloon through Gotham and towards Arkham Asylum, no doubt catching the attention of Batman and civilians on the street. The moment people saw the smile-painted balloon, fear rippled over the half-asleep city, and police flickered to life, dashing into action after the assailant.

            Even if Gotham PD intervened, the Joker didn't care. As long as he had his hands on the Bat.

            Joker checked and rechecked his gun in his lair, surrounded by a semi-circle of stacked TV screens. The glow highlighted his figure, displaying the balloon's path towards Arkham. When he glanced up, it wasn't the red and blue sirens in the streets that caught his attention, but the Bat Signal in the coal sky, glowing like the moon.

            A thrill raced down his spine.

            "C'mon, Bats," said Joker with a grin, holstering his revolver. "Come to me."

            A swish of black swept across the TV screens, and he clapped his hands with a delighted noise, watching Batman spring to action before him. It was like having his own fancam.

            The hot air balloon floated over Arkham's perimeter, inching closer to the prison building, but before it could reach its destination, Batman's batarang pierced through the balloon. The fabric ripped, the air inside collapsed, and the balloon spiraled out of control, flapping wildly in the sky, until it collided into the side of Arkham Asylum.

            And exploded.

            Alarms blared, and Joker watched the screens as Batman rushed towards the now-smoking hole in the side of the prison. Inmates made their escape, and the Bat tried to contain them as guards raced over the grounds.

            Perfect, thought Joker, laughing when Bane emerged and tackled Batman, sending them both into the smoking rubble. As the two tousled, other inmates made their way past the guards, forced their way out the gates, and into the streets of Gotham.

            Joker twirled his gun as he watched Bane throw Batman around like a ragdoll, every attack weakening the vigilante. Even if the Bat beat Bane, there would be others he'd have to go through. And one man only had so much energy.

The more the Bat fought, the weaker he got. Joker was counting on it.

            Joker holstered his gun, started up his car, and drove towards the chaos with a smile on his face.

──────••• ♤ •••──────

Chaos rattled Arkham Asylum—alarms blaring, inmates shouting, bodies racing through the halls.

            The noise woke Murdock Quinn from his reverie, and he pulled his gaze from the ceiling as he sat up in his excuse for a bed. He glanced aside and found his cell door open.    

Murdock smiled to himself and stood, walking out of his cell. A few cells away, Anti met his eyes, looking jittery and haywire from all the noise.

            "See?" gloated Quinn. "What did I say?"

            Anti sent him a look and joined his side, glancing down the hall. "Yeah, yeah," he said. "You were right."

Inmates rushed past them with triumphant yells, and up ahead—where the explosion went off—there were cries and shouts. Over the cloud of settling dust, bodies flew back into the prison and skidded onto the floor, unconscious and bloody.

Murdock jumped away from a body sliding past them.

"Shit," cursed Murdock. "It's him."

"No way," said Anti, brows shooting up. "Batman?"

Murdock sprinted away from the explosion down a different hall, and Anti yelped, catching sight of the Bat's silhouette through the smoke.

"Wait! Where are you going!"

"Away, you idiot!"

Batman stumbled through the rubble and into the Asylum, fighting off Bane. Anti jumped and raced after Quinn, determined to stay away from the receiving end of those fists.

"Quinn! Wait up!" he yelled, chasing after Murdock's shrinking figure.

With one final hit, Batman knocked Bane to the ground and panted hard over him, pressing a foot on his chest to keep him down. When he was sure he was unconscious, he removed his foot and took a moment to recover, glancing up. A few remaining inmates met his eyes, froze, and ran away with hollers. The Bat glared after them and huffed.

This was a disaster. He had rounded up as many inmates as he could, but he knew some escaped. People would be in danger despite the efforts of Gotham PD; they could only get a hold on a few of them with their abilities.

"Quinn!" echoed down the hall, catching the Bat's attention. "You're fuckin' mean, you know that?"

Batman's eyes narrowed, and he flexed his fists, considering his options. He could chase after the other inmates who ran away. Or, he could chase after Quinn—one of the more dangerous threats to Gotham. A threat that lead to the Joker.

"Quinn!" yelled Anti.

The Bat sprinted down the hall.

──────••• ♤ •••──────

Murdock and Anti raced down the hallway, passing endless cells. The chaos of inmates faded, replaced by a thudding quiet.

            "Where—" panted Anti at Quinn's side, "—the fuck—are we going?"

            The thudding quiet grew louder. Thud, thud, thud. Faster. Until the noise finally registered, and the heavy pound of footsteps followed them.

Murdock's brows furrowed, and when he glanced over his shoulder, he instantly regretted it. There the motherfucker was, almost on their tails, like a shadow on steroids.

            "Don't look back, Anti," said Murdock, "but we need to run faster—"

            Anti looked over his shoulder and screamed. "Mother of God!"

            "I told you not to look!"

            "Where's yer boyfriend when ya need him?!" cried Anti, sprinting for his life. "He's gonna kill us!"

            They skidded around the corner, and the Bat caught up to their heels, determined.

            "To the courtyard," said Murdock. "We're almost there."

            A flashbang arched over their heads and landed far off. The moment it hit the concrete, it burst with light and an explosion of noise and smoke, assaulting Murdock and Anti's senses. The two struggled through the smoke, blinded and disoriented.

            Batman tackled the first figure he could see through the smoke, and Anti shouted, skull cracking against the concrete at full force. Murdock cursed and felt around him, grasping the walls as he stumbled forward.

            Another explosion rattled off, and just as Murdock's vision began to clear, he fell to his hands and knees in the courtyard, finding a hole blown into the concrete fence. Joker's car barreled through, tires screeching as it swung to a stop. The clown spotted Quinn and shoved his head out the window with a grin.

            "Miss me, doll face?" he crooned.

            Murdock's face lit up, and he scrambled to his feet and raced towards the car, eager to reunite with the Joker. The moment he threw open the car door, Batman rushed into the courtyard, eyes wild. The look sent chills down Joker's spine, and he barely noticed when Murdock jumped into the car and slammed the door shut.

            "Oh, puddin'," laughed Murdock. "I was waiting for you to come for me."

            Batman's eyes met Joker's, and the clown couldn't help but bark out a laugh of excitement.

            "Til death do us part, sweetheart," he said, revving up the car. But Joker's eyes never once met Murdock's. Were pinned on Batman's the entire time.

            Joker sped out of Arkham Asylum and onto the streets of Gotham, tires screeching from the effort. And even as the Bat chased after them, Murdock couldn't help but focus on anything else but his Joker's expression.

            The city lights highlighted his red-painted grin, the glow in his manic eyes. He was always happy after a heist, a little unhinged, but this felt too excited, too planned. And Murdock realized, it wasn't every time his Joker looked at him that his face lit up.

            Murdock's face fell.

            It only lit up when he saw the Batman.

            His fists clenched in his lap.

            Was Joker even his anymore?

            Batman's weight landed on top of the car, denting the roof above their heads, and Joker's laugh sounded muffled in Murdock's ears.

            Was he ever his to begin with?

            "Quinn, can you—"

            Everything Murdock had done for him, was it all for nothing?

            "Quinn—"

            He'd dedicated his life to Joker because he loved him. He'd only do that because Joker loved him back.

            "You're too late, Bats! I've already gotten what I wanted."

            Joker loved him back, right?

            The car swerved, and Joker grabbed Murdock's hands, snapping him from his trance. Sound crashed back around him, the bubble of sirens, the roar of wind, the rumble of the car. Murdock's eyes snapped down to their hands, and warmth flushed through him.

            No one had hands on the fucking steering wheel of course, but Joker was holding his hands, and it felt right, and Murdock forgot whatever he was thinking because—

            "Take the wheel," said Joker, shoving Murdock's hands onto the wheel. Murdock blinked, and when he was still processing what the fuck was happening, he glanced at Joker, found him open the car door, and jump out.

            "You have got to be KIDDING ME!" Murdock screamed, crawling into the driver side. He slammed on the breaks, and Batman flew off the car roof and into the street, struggling to regain footing.

            Murdock grit his teeth, and he slammed on the gas, racing towards the Bat.

            If he couldn't have the Joker, no one could.

            Batman's eyes widened, and he narrowly jumped out of the way, watching as the car continued forward at full speed. Police cars raced after it, and Batman huffed to himself and spotted Joker over the red and blue lights, waving and laughing.

            Catch me if you can.

            Batman clenched his fists and glared, his vision closing in on the clown.

            'Quit entertaining him,' came Murdock's mantra in his head again, 'and he'll stop.'

            Joker meant nothing to him.

            'You want that.'

            Joker meant nothing to him.

            'Don't you?'

            And he would prove it.

            Batman broke into full sprint, and the Joker laughed, disappearing around the corner.

            He would make him stop.

            He would make him pay for everything he's done.

──────••• ♤ •••──────

No matter how long Batman's chased the Joker over the years, he never ceased to surprise him with how agile he was.

            Every time the Bat thought he was close to catching him, the Joker found a way to keep distance between them. Like always, a game. One step forward, knock you two steps back.

            After what felt like hours, Batman had dodged thrown crates, knocked-over shelves, razor-sharp cards flicked his way, and more of Joker's antics. His energy was starting to wear down on him. His every step ached, flaring the pain in his bruises; his heart hammered mercilessly in his chest; his breaths tore through his lungs, gathering heat in his face mask. If he hadn't gotten so banged up at Arkham trying to contain everyone, he would have caught up to the Joker by now.

            That was his plan, of course. The fact made him even angrier.

            Joker, who he didn't care about, reigning hell over Gotham again. Joker, who meant nothing to him, carving out hours of his time just to laugh in his face; cause a scene; commit crimes for the sake of fun.

            Joker, who was in all ways wrong, hurting innocent people.

            Damien's brows furrowed, breaths sharpening under the mask. His cape whipped behind him as he ran faster, the Joker closing in on his sights, his running figure getting closer, and closer, and closer.

            Joker, who no matter what he did, was wrong.

            Joker, who—when met with the fists of Batman's wrath—would pay.

            Batman was just on Joker's heels when the clown threw a smoke bomb, blinding him from his target. He staggered, unable to see anything around him. The clown's laugh rang out through the Gotham night, and when the smoke faded, Joker was no longer in front of him—the streets empty.

            His laugh rang out again, and Batman's gaze snapped up, finding Joker racing up the fire escape of a tall building. His teeth bared beneath his mask, and he chased him up the fire escape, heavy footsteps rattling the fragile metal underneath them.

            "Geez!" laughed Joker, stopping a few staircases above to gloat. He leaned over the railing to get a good look at Batman's face, eyes all glaring and broody. He didn't notice how different his anger was tonight. "Just straight to business, aren't you, Batsy? No more small talk, no more fun."

            The Bat's eyes narrowed, and he kept running, closing in on Joker. The clown laughed, stumbling onto the rooftop of the building. It was bare and empty, taller than most of the structures around it, giving them a perfect view of Gotham. Joker spun around and splayed his arms wide, panting hard through giggles.

            "Y'know," panted Joker, shivering when Batman got onto the roof, his shoulders heaving from exertion, "you could say a thing or two, Bats. Lighten up the mood." Joker caught his breath and motioned to the sky, which still had the Batsignal glowing among its smog-covered stars. He didn't notice the murderous look crossing Batman's eyes. "C'mon, it's a beautiful night. No need to be the kinda guy who gives a bad first date—"

            There was no 'That's not funny, Joker.' No 'Quit playing games.' Just like Joker had done a year ago, Batman did it now.

            He changed the rules.

            Batman tackled Joker straight to the ground, and their bodies cracked against the concrete, a tousle of limbs struggling to gain purchase. Joker, dazed by the attack, had no time to make a remark before Batman punched him across the face, crowding his vision with stars. Had no time to get a laugh in before Batman picked him up by the throat and threw him across the rooftop, heaving with unbridled rage.

            Joker rubbed his throat and coughed, wavering on his hands and knees. In the corner of his vision, the Bat neared him, each step weighted with purpose. When he looked up at him, the Batsignal haloed his head—but he looked nothing like the vigilante the signal called for. No longer a shadow, but a monster.

The Joker's gaze darkened, and he grinned, flashing bloody teeth. Despite the fear tapping his chest, satisfaction rolled through him.

            "There..." breathed Joker, voice low, gritty. "There's the Batman I've always tried to bring out. Such a shame though—all my killings, and this is what ticks you off?"

            He broke into a fit of laughter, and Batman glared, chest heaving.

"Look," laughed Joker, holding out a hand as he backed away. His feet scuffed against Batman's shoes. "This is a misunderstanding, Bats. All I wanted was to—"

            "Misunderstanding?" Batman growled, grabbing a fistful of Joker's hair. The clown yelped and laughed at his own reaction, suppressing a wince when the Bat yanked him to his feet. "Was it a misunderstanding when you helped those inmates escape?"

            Joker grabbed Batman's wrist, baring his teeth against the pain. The Bat used his other hand to punch Joker in the stomach, earning a shout.

            "Was it a misunderstanding when you killed those guards?"

            He punched him again. And again. Beat him to a fucking pulp like his own punching bag. Because that's all Joker was. Nothing. Nothing to him.

            Joker meant nothing to him.

"Was it a misunderstanding when you ditched Quinn to get to me?"

            Batman threw Joker aside, and he clutched himself, fingers digging into his stomach. When he struggled to laugh, blood dripped past his lips and onto the floor.

            "W... woah there," laughed Joker brokenly. "Since when did you care about Quinn?"

Batman growled, about to lunge for him, when Joker whipped out his gun, aiming it between his eyes. The Bat reared back and glared, adjusting his stance. It gave Joker a moment to recover from the beatdown, his body already blossoming with bruises underneath his purple suit. More memorabilia to bring home with him. He sat back and grinned, finger on the trigger.

            "Don't tell me you care about him now," breathed Joker, chest heaving. "I'm hurt, Bats. I thought it was just us."

            "There is no us," spat Batman, the words almost desperate. "There never will be an us."

            Joker's eyes went half-lidded, and he smiled, meeting the Bat's eyes. "You keep saying that," he breathed. "But if you just open your goddamn eyes, there already is an us, Bats." He tipped his head back and chuckled, hair falling in front of his eyes. Something flashed in Batman's gaze—something that reminded him of the night they kissed. Batman's tragic mistake and Joker's euphoric victory. Joker wanted to keep that look of Bat's on display—hold it close to fawn over and study when no one else was around—but the look left as quickly as it came. There was no getting it back, no matter how many strings he clawed at; and it tore him apart and reassured him at the same time. It was a look reserved just for him. A look even the Bat couldn't handle.

            "Look at us," breathed Joker, running a hand over his neck. Watched Batman's eyes follow the path of his hand. "I need you. And you need me."

            Batman bristled.

            "Without each other," said Joker with a smile, rising to his feet, "we're nothing."

            "Even with you gone," said the Bat, "I'd still be here." Joker raised his gun and circled around Batman, keeping him pinned in his sights. "I couldn't say the same for you."

            "Oh, but where's the fun in that?" breathed Joker, pacing carefully around Batman. His eyes followed him like a hawk, and it only thrilled Joker; such focus with that attention, and all on him. "I make your head spin, Bats. I show you what fun chaos can be. I am the reason you stay up at night, and the reason you keep coming back to this city for more!"

            Joker's gaze darkened, and he pulled back the hammer on his revolver, the mechanics clicking.

            "Without me," breathed Joker, finger sliding along the trigger, "you're just a joke without a punchline."

            The gunshot echoed around them as Batman tackled Joker to the floor, and the gun skidded across the concrete. Joker reached for it, but Batman punched him across the face, dazing him. He landed another blow, and another, and Joker struggled beneath him, kicking and blocking punch after punch. His heel dug into Batman's hip, and the vigilante cried out, clutching the wound. Joker's blood sang at the noise. He'd shot the Bat through that suit of his.

            Joker hopped up and tackled Batman to the ground, wrapping his hands around his throat. He had no upper hand, even being on top, but that's what was so funny about it. Him, manning this heaving mass of muscle. His fingers, digging into the warm expanse of his neck. For a moment, he could feel the rapid pulse of his heartbeat; could feel the sweat against his palms. And for a moment, Joker got a good look at those eyes. He always saw the anger first; now, he saw the flecks of red in his brown irises; saw every wrinkle as his brows furrowed and his eyes narrowed into slits. If he tried, he could slip a finger under his mask and—

            Batman grabbed Joker by the face and slammed his head into the concrete, pinning him there. Joker laughed and grasped blindly, fingers clawing at Batman's arms and face, legs kicking out. Pain crackled in the side of his skull until it tickled.

            "Oh, come on!" laughed Joker, voice muffled by Batman's hand. The Bat bashed his head down again—wanted him to shut up. Heard him laugh and bashed his head in again, and again, and again, until he couldn't even recognize himself anymore. Until Damien felt like he was watching someone else pulverize the Joker in his body. Until he watched Joker struggle helplessly under him, hands trying to push the Bat off him, legs trying to kick him away.

            "Bats—" laughed Joker, clawing at him. Struggling. His voice changed. "C-come on, Bats—"

Joker's head felt funny; his vision split from what he could see between the Bat's fingers. Blood filled his mouth like cotton, and he stuck his tongue out, licking up Batman's palm.

            Batman slammed Joker's head into the ground and tore his hand away, wiping the blood off on his cape. The Joker's laugh mocked him, sending fury up his spine.

            "You... hah... you used to be fun, Bats," panted Joker, propping himself up on shaky elbows. His hair fell before his eyes; blood ran down his brow to his jaw. His chest heaved, and this time Batman couldn't look at him. Refused to look at him. "Now all you care about is beating the shit out of me just to get it over with. Like I'm a chore. You don't have anymore gusto."

            Batman punched Joker across the face, and his head knocked aside, staying there. He spat blood on the floor, and his hand shook as he wiped his mouth.

            "I've broken you..." said Joker, his voice dark and twisted. He glanced at Batman through the corner of his eye and met his gaze. "Haven't I?"

            Batman's eyes flinched, and Joker's chest swelled with victory at the reaction, small as it was. He grinned.

"You, Batman," breathed Joker, gazing at him through tired, half-lidded eyes. "You're who I live for." He tipped his head back and exhaled, catching his breath. "You're who I perform for."

            Batman's fingers twitched in his lap.

            "Everything—everything I do," he breathed, dragging his gaze onto Batman's. "It's all for you."

            "And that's why it has to end," said Batman, rising to his feet.

            Joker's heart skipped a beat, and he sat up despite his body begging him to lay still. "Wait—"

            But Batman made no move to leave.

            "Just—sit with me a moment longer, Bats," said Joker, his voice soft. "Please."

            Batman's gaze darkened, and he knelt between Joker's legs, resting a hand on the ground beside his hip. Joker rose a brow, but when he opened his mouth to speak, Batman pressed a hand over his mouth and shoved his head into the concrete, glaring over him. Despite his condition, Joker's brows rose, face bursting with heat.

            "Let me make this clear, Joker," seethed Batman through the mask. If he wasn't wearing it, their noses would be brushing. "Are you listening?"

            Joker nodded against his hand, giving him a muffled noise.

            "You. Mean. Nothing to me," said Batman.

            Joker's eyes flashed with surprise.

            "You've never meant anything to me but a nuisance I need to control," said Batman. "That's all you ever were, all you ever are, and all you ever will be. Nothing more. I say there's no us because there is no us. Whatever you think is between us is all in your crazy, delusional head."

            Hurt, and then anger, flashed in Joker's eyes.

            "Every time you joke about our love makes me sick," spat Batman, never once breaking his gaze from Joker's. "Because I could never love a freak like you. You're sick, Joker. You're twisted. You're wrong."

            Joker breathed hard through his nose and glared, chest heaving. Batman didn't mean that. He didn't mean any of that. Of course he meant something to the vigilante. He meant EVERYTHING to him. Why, why, why couldn't he understand that? Why couldn't he see what was right in fucking front of him?

            Joker headbutt the Bat, and he reeled back with a shout. Joker jumped to his feet and kneed Batman in the face, knocking him to the ground. He grabbed his revolver from the floor, cocked it, and shot Batman in the leg.

            "You don't fucking get it," spat Joker, voice broken. Deep down, the words hurt. They tore apart the piece of him that craved Batman's attention; tore apart the piece of him that craved Batman's love and touch and care. He thought he understood. He was the only one who could.

            "You—you're the one clinging to delusions!" shouted Joker.

            Batman clutched his leg and seethed, glaring up at him. No matter how hard Joker tried to stop it, he couldn't get the vigilante's voice out of his head.

            'I could never love a freak like you.' Those words—words he'd told himself—were his worst nightmare coming from the Bat's mouth. And they had come true, and when he said it he had meant it, but he didn't mean it. There was no way he could mean it, because that was their thing, the two of them. Batman and Joker. Joker and Batman. They needed each other. They loved each other. And if Batman couldn't fucking see that, then—

            "What about that night, huh?" Joker choked out.

            The air went tight around them, and he knew he should've listened to their unspoken rule. Do not, under any circumstances, talk about that night. Well fuck that. Batman struck his last nerve. Batman played beyond the rules of their game.

            "You," said Joker, shaking his gun at the Bat. "You kissed me. Mouth to mouth, Bats. Tongue, teeth, blood and all."

            Batman glared, and he staggered to his feet, blood dripping down his leg. "That meant nothing and you know it," he growled.

            "You could've pushed me away," said Joker, "but you didn't. You didn't push me away, Bats. You—" He swallowed blood. "You held me, and I—" His lashes fluttered, heart pounded at the memory. "I... wanted you, a-and—"

            "That's enough."

            "—and I've..." His breath shook. "—always wanted you—"

            "I said that's enough!" yelled Batman, wrenching Joker's gun out of his hand. He threw it off the side of the roof, and before Joker could try to rescue it, the vigilante swept the clown's leg and sent him to the ground. Batman knelt on his chest and punched him across the face, his heart aching. Joker had struck the chord he wished he never would have. Joker had struck the chord that made him lose control.

            "You're sick and tormented," said Batman, punching with every other word. "If you really think—" He straddled his chest. "—that night meant something—" He punched him, and punched him, and punched him. "—then you're wrong."

            One last punch, and Joker's head knocked to the side, all bruised and bloody. Batman panted hard over him, and with a sick, gut-wrenching feeling, he realized it was quiet. Too quiet.

            Batman grabbed Joker's face and brought it towards him, panic flaring through him. The clown's eyes were closed, mouth parted and bright red with blood. His chest still rose and fell, but the gesture grew weaker.

            Damien tore away from the Joker like he had burned him. Oh god, he thought. He looked down at the bloody mess that was now Joker. The bloody mess that he had created.

            What have I done?

            Damien ran a hand over his mask on instinct, the rush of adrenaline dying fast. Once the anger and resentment settled from his limbs, he realized he'd gone too far. He'd pushed his limits; pushed Joker's limits. They'd gotten in plenty of nasty fights before, but this one was different. Tonight, Batman changed their dynamic in a way that was irreversible. Tonight, Batman confirmed Joker's worst fears.

            And that would make him all the more dangerous.

You should leave, he told himself, stepping back. He stared at Joker's unconscious body, bruised and bloody.

            Damien swallowed hard and forced himself to walk forward and kneel beside Joker's body. He told himself to leave as he checked Joker's pulse, making sure there was still a beat. Told himself to leave as he felt his hands down Joker's body, making sure nothing was too out of place or broken. Told himself to leave as regret and worry gnawed at his throat and urged him to change his narrative.

            Damien took a deep breath and sighed, bowing his head. No. He was not seriously considering this.

            He gazed at Joker's unconscious figure and swallowed, his fingers twitching. Leave him here, he urged himself. Just leave him like you've done plenty of times before.

            But tonight, he'd nearly lost control. He let the side of him he repressed get triggered by Joker's egging. He tried to punch that stupid kiss out of existence by taking it out on Joker.

            Before he could talk himself out of it, Batman scooped Joker up in his arms, stood, and stared at Edwards Tower through the other buildings.

            This was a huge fucking mistake.

            He brought out his grappling hook, latched to the nearest building, and leapt.

            But he did it anyway.

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This ended up being 4.7K words, LMAOOOO

Thank you so much for reading, and have a wonderful day/night!

Love,

Sheera Ayame xoxo