The night Damien let Joker go was the last time he ever saw him.

            It had been three months.

            Three months since he'd last saw his face or heard his voice. Three months since he'd last had a single trace of the clown.

            It was like he had disappeared.

            Of course, Damien let it go to his head. He worried if he had genuinely broken what he and Joker had, even if it was just their simple game of cat and mouse. Worried if what he said really meant the end of things.

            And as he worried, and regretted, and replayed all the memories he'd shared with Joker, he realized it was true what the clown said.

            Batman needed him.

            Without Joker, crime fighting had lost its thrill, its zest. It was never about enjoying catching criminals—more so protecting the city and its people from ever having to go through the same darkness he once did—but Joker gave it that spark of life.

            Without him, things felt empty. Hollow.

            Just a Joker-shaped void in the Batman's chest.

            He hated it. It felt like heartbreak and grieving. Like knowing exactly what you were missing out on in life and knowing you could never, ever have it.

            It frustrated Damien to every end.

He distracted himself by cleaning Gotham's streets from those who had broken out of Arkham Asylum; fought a few big shots, jailed the lower thugs and wannabes. Murdock Quinn was still out there—and a few more, he was sure—but just like Joker, they had gone dark, too.

            It felt wrong. Gotham, a place always festering with villainy, quiet.

            Too quiet.

            When crime was slow, and Batman had no one to fight off, he focused on making appearances for Damien Edwards. The media had pried on his vacancy the past year—especially for the upcoming Annual Charity Gala—and he (and Xilef) made sure he would keep up with his image.

            It was exhausting, and the last thing he wanted to do, but appearances were appearances, and if he didn't take responsibility for his status, people would do more than talk. He preferred the elites to be pleased. Keep them that way, and they stay out of your hair.

            Besides—it kept him from thinking about Joker. And thinking about Joker, who was supposed to mean nothing more to him than an enemy, was only a waste of time and energy.

            In his study, he worked on the guest list and last-minute decisions while Xilef tidied up the invitations and smaller details. Like every year, it would be the same. An extravagant gala, celebrated in Edward Manor, where the rich would donate to organizations in need and flex their generosity. It was irritating, how they boasted their kind acts, but at the end of the day, they were merely doing what Damien had to do himself. Keep up with reputation.

            Reputation... thought Damien as he went through the guest list. Joker had a reputation, too. He was known for his whims of mayhem at any hour—a wild card, an unpredictable force. But unpredictable as he was, he was still frequent. Three months of Joker-less crime, and people were sure to talk.

            Damien scolded his mind for drifting off, but even as he dove back into work, he idly wondered what Joker was up to.

──────••• ♤ •••──────

Over the past three months, Joker had been scheming.

            It was the best way to get his feelings for Batman off his mind. That, and killing anyone who irritated him.

William Barren had become William J. Barnum—he couldn't help but put the 'J' in there—and his act, though terrible at first, was starting to come together.

            When he first introduced the plan to Quinn, he looked at Joker like he'd told him he wanted to become sane. It was the night Damien had let him go, and he arrived in his lair, swamped in the billionaire's clothes, and announced, "I'm home!"

            Murdock was ecstatic, at first. He suffocated Joker in a hug, spouting off his worries—"You were gone for two days," and "I thought the Bat killed you, but I was stupid to think that, of course you wouldn't let that happen," and "I've been worried sick about you, J!" Joker let him gush a while more, and when Murdock pulled away, searching his face, the clown had that classic, mischievous grin.

            "Ohhh," said Murdock, his eyes lighting up. "You've got a plan, don't you, puddin'?"

            Joker chuckled, grabbed Murdock's shoulders, and steered him towards the messiest part of the lair. It consisted of a huge table, whiteboards, a semi-circle of TV screens, and empty corkboards. Joker grabbed a piece of paper from his pocket and tacked it onto the corkboard with a triumphant noise. It was a photo of Damien Edwards he'd ripped from a newspaper on the way there.

Quinn circled around the table and squinted at it.

            "This," said Joker, "is our next target."

            "Damien Edwards? The billionaire?" said Quinn. "Are we short on money again, sugar?"

"Money's no issue, doll face," said Joker. "No, Mr. Edwards is hiding something."

            Murdock's eyes glittered with interest, and he sat back on the table, absorbed with what Joker had to say. The fact the clown ditched him to be alone with the Bat was chucked far back in his mind.

            "I need to do more digging to be sure," said Joker, joining Quinn's side to stare at the tacky photo. It really didn't do Damien's beauty justice. "But I think he's the Bat."

            The moment Joker mentioned him, Murdock's spirits fell and something deep in his chest ached. Of course it would be about the Bat. That's all it ever was, wasn't it? Bat this, Bat that... when would it ever be about the Joker and Murdock Quinn?

            "Oh," said Quinn flatly, slouching. "Great. So are we gonna kidnap him? See if the Bat shows up?"

            "Y'know, I didn't think of that," said Joker, his eyes glittering. Quinn sighed to himself, trying to ignore how much it hurt to see Joker so excited about the vigilante. "But no... Bats said some nasty things to me on that roof, Quinn. And I'm going to make him pay." He turned to Murdock and grinned. "I'm gonna pretend to be one of them."

            That's when Murdock's brows rose, face contorting with disbelief. "You're going to what now?"

            Joker stood and fanned out his hands, grinning like a child with candy. "I have the basic details all lined up," he said. "I'll take on an alias—sneak into one of those snobby parties of his and get close to him."

            Quinn stood, already assuming the worst. He was sure Damien didn't know that Joker knew about his identity. But if he really was the Bat, what if he started to fall for Joker's alias? What if they really hit it off, and Quinn would be left alone with the scraps?

            "But—but what if he rejects you?"

            "Are you kidding me?" slurred Joker with a grin. "Who can resist this?"

            He motioned to his body, and Quinn's face went red. He had just gotten his Joker back, and he was already planning to leave him again? And for a man he didn't even know was the Batman or not! What happened to their nights committing crimes together? Breaking one another out of jails and laughing in Gotham's face? Together?

            Quinn shakily exhaled, telling himself to keep his anger in check. He forced a smile.

            "And what'll I be doing?" he asked, folding his hands in his lap.

            "Oh, this is a solo mission, sweetheart. Just me and that hunk Mr. Edwards!" He chuckled. "I do need help with some research, though, so if you would be so kind..."

            "God, what's the point!" Murdock yelled, storming off.

            Joker blinked and watched him go, turning back to the corkboard when a door slammed shut. "Geez," he said to himself, putting a hand under his chin. "What's gotten into him?"

            It didn't matter, anyway. He studied Damien's face for the rest of the night, burned every detail into his memory, and got to work. It would be no walk in the park, but he was determined to get his revenge.

            What Batman said had hurt him deep in his core. Confirmed the nightmares his own mind had haunted him with.

No one could love a freak like him. As long as he was himself, as long as he was the Joker, Batman wouldn't spare another glance at him.

            'I could never love a freak like you,' rang his words.

            So he would turn himself into someone he could.

──────••• ♤ •••──────

Joker gave a funeral for his hair.

            He dressed in the all-black clothes Damien had given him and recited an oath in the mirror, making it as dramatic as he could. Quinn, who was on the other side of the lair—and still resentful for the past three months—groaned aloud.

            "Sorry, Mr. J, but could you please keep it down?" he shouted.

            "You wouldn't understand, Quinn!" Joker bemoaned, pouting at himself in the mirror. "You're missing out on the death of fashion!"

            Quinn groaned again, and Joker poked at the sheets of foil all over his head with black dye-covered gloves. The box said fifteen minutes, but he'd lost track of time, and now he worried he'd ruined his perfectly pink hair for good. And don't forget the pink moustache—he still hadn't touched the thing with dye. He'd have to give another funeral for that.

            When he figured the dye had set long enough, he pulled away the first sheet of foil, revealing a deep black lock of hair. Joker gasped at the sight, multi-colored eyes glittering with both fear and delight. Quinn had told him using foil was unnecessary, but the reveal was so much more thrilling. He couldn't wait to see what he looked like afterwards.

            Joker looked away from the mirror as he removed the foil, wanting to savor the surprise a moment longer. He washed the dye off under the shower head, peeled off his gloves, and toweled off his hair. When he greeted the mirror again, he exhaled, gave himself a little pep talk, and removed the towel.

            Black locks fell over his forehead, contrasting against his white face paint. His mouth fell open. Hands reached up to card through the wet hair.

            He looked so different.

            Joker cried out, and in the next minute, Quinn came rushing over, shoving his head past the bathroom door.

            "What, what is it? Is everything—"

            Quinn's eyes locked onto Joker's reflection, and his mouth fell open.

            "Oh..." He blinked. "Wow."

            "Weird, isn't it?" said Joker, grinning and bouncing as he examined himself in the mirror. "I'm starting to feel normal already."

            Murdock cringed at the word, and he eyed Joker carefully, looking pained. It took him a moment to muster up the words.

"Do you... really have to do this?" asked Quinn with a grimace. "I mean this—" He motioned his hands towards the once neon-haired clown. "—this isn't you."

"Well, duh, that's the point, doll face!" laughed Joker. His face fell, and he turned to Quinn, holding up the rest of the dye. "Could you do my moustache for me?" he whined dramatically. "I just can't bring myself to part with it."

Murdock grumbled to himself, hating the puppy eyes that Joker gave him. He knew that even if he refused, Joker would end up doing it himself. He might as well find the positive from this moment and use it as some more time to spend with his Joker.

"Fine," sighed Murdock, unable to stop the twinge in his chest when Joker exclaimed happily. "But if you move too much, I'll stain your face with something embarrassing so you'll never go out."

"Okay, okay!" said Joker, pushing his face close so Quinn could work easier. The gesture made Murdock's heart race. "But you have to understand, sweetheart—this is my pride and joy."

He puckered his lips and waggled his stache. Murdock couldn't help but laugh and roll his eyes.

"It was your idea," he said, grabbing the dye brush. "Now sit still..."

──────••• ♤ •••──────

When the dye set, and Joker washed it away, Murdock stopped him before he could look in the mirror.

            "You said you wanted normal, right?" asked Murdock gently, sitting Joker down on the toilet seat. He dampened a rag and held it up to the clown's face. "Gimme a second..."

            "But I want to see it now!" he protested.

Murdock pushed him back down, and he smiled at him, wanting to savor the moment. He wished he could pamper Joker like this all the time—show him how much he loved him.

            He would have to settle for this tonight.

            "Trust me," said Murdock, running the rag along Joker's face. "Just let me do my thing."

            Joker relaxed with a sigh, and Murdock worked a bit slower, enjoying the gentleness in the way he handled Joker's face. The rag pulled away his face paint, revealing more of his rich, dark skin underneath. At first, Murdock found Joker's idea to "become someone else" ridiculous. He still did. But as he wiped away the Joker's face paint, he figured that maybe he could pull this off.

            When Murdock finished, he ran the rag over Joker's face a few more times, leaning in close. He could feel the heat of his breath ghost over his face. Felt his heart race when Joker tipped his head up and smiled, gazing into Murdock's eyes.

            It reminded him of old times, when Quinn used to be Joker's world.

            He latched onto the bittersweet feeling as tightly as he could. Swiped the rag over Joker's lips, getting lost in thought as he stared at them. Even without the makeup, his lips were still stained a hue, making them look more inviting. Murdock exhaled and tipped his head closer, lips brushing against Joker's.

            The clown grinned and laughed quietly. "Are you done yet?" he asked, cutting open the moment.

            Murdock huffed, and he stepped back, forcing a smile. It felt weird, looking at the Joker. He didn't even know if he could call him that anymore.

            "Yeah," he said gently. "You can look now."

Joker stood, and he turned towards the mirror, brows raising when he saw himself. He didn't recognize his reflection, at first. Brought a hand to his face and felt his skin just to remind himself that this was, in fact, him. Without the face paint, and with the black hair, the black moustache, he genuinely looked... normal.

            The longer he stared at himself, the more he itched to undo it. But he told himself to hold on. Told himself to do it for his own sake, to get back at the Batman.

"I look..." Joker exhaled a laugh. "Boring."

            "Well, that's what normal is, isn't it?" said Murdock, meeting Joker's eyes in the mirror. "Blending in with everyone else."

            "I shouldn't blend in too much," said Joker, running his hands over his moustache, his hair. "I need to stand out for Damien."

            Quinn's eye twitched at the name, but he quickly brushed it aside. "You look fine, J."

            "Hah! I know!" laughed Joker, dashing out of the bathroom. When he returned, he held up a monocle, the glass glinting beneath the lights. "Riddler left this behind one day, and I never felt like returning it, so..."

            Joker secured the monocle under his brow and posed in the mirror, making a face. Murdock couldn't help but laugh with him.

            "You look ridiculous," said Quinn.

            "Ridiculous in a good way or a bad way?" laughed Joker, planting his hands on his hips. "I think I look old timey. I won't blend in as much with the modern people."

            Murdock couldn't help but snort. "If that's what you're going for, I guess..."

            "I just need contacts and a suit to match," said Joker with a grin.

            "And maybe—less smiling if you don't want to give yourself away."

            "What?" gawked Joker. "But I can't not smile."

            "Smile differently," said Murdock. "Don't smile like Joker. Smile like your alias."

            Joker scrutinized himself in the mirror, crossed his arms, and tested a normal smile. It felt unnatural—gross, even.

            "Right," he said, testing different smiles in the mirror. Murdock watched him with amusement. "Smile like William J. Barnum would."

            He inhaled, exhaled, and allowed a soft, gentle smile. The kind he didn't know he did, but only had when he thought pleasantly of Batman. On the Joker, the smile would have looked unnatural. But on William, it fit him perfectly.

            He chuckled to himself, trying to keep the manic pitch out of it. It was like watching a different person take shape right in front of his eyes—and he was the one who continued to craft and mold it to perfection.

            He smiled at himself again—felt a warmth in his chest—and decided that's what he wanted William to be. Warmth.

            He turned to Murdock, winked through his monocle, and allowed himself a genuine, Joker-style grin. The tension eased from Murdock's shoulders the moment he saw it.

            "How about a date, doll face?" said Joker, offering his arm. "Get ourselves a new wardrobe?"

            Murdock chuckled and took Joker's arm, allowing him to lead him out the bathroom. It was uncanny, looking at his face—but as long as he heard his voice, he held onto the remaining bits of Joker he could. That's all he could do these days, anyway. Hold onto the moments he had with him before the Bat stole him away.

            But Joker loved him—of course he did—so he would settle with that.

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Well... what are your thoughts so far? >:)

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

Love,
Sheera Ayame <3