Author: Ididntdoit07 PM
After escaping Arkham, the Joker loses his memory. Bruce Wayne takes the Joker into his own confinement, where the two learn they are not so different and the story unfolds as the cat and mouse are caught in a trap neither of them can forget.SlashRated: Fiction M - English - Drama/Romance - Joker & Bruce W./Batman - Chapters: 20 - Words: 53,472 - Reviews: 133 - Favs: 127 - Follows: 169 - Updated: 11-02-12 - Published: 04-11-09 - id: 4987065
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Chapter 18: The Deep Blue Sea
This chapter is a little half and half torn between Bruce and Jack and their remaining adventures at the Wayne Annual Christmas party. This is my little present to you, updating twice in 24 hours for the celebration of Nolan's final installment of the Dark Knight series opening tonight at midnight! I would expect to see a lot more action coming from me. Hopefully this will spark some more inspiration! As always, tell me what you think and also what you thought of the movie!
Disclaimer: I do not own anything except for Mary, and she really isn't that annoying.
The night would be full of surprises as I would soon learn; the first was the Mayor who decided to come crashing the party. He turned up on the doorstep, Alfred fetching me from a few interested realtors, once I would move back to Wayne Manor. One month into packing all the boxes to and from the manor, the house hunters gathered like hyenas around the idea that I was going to sell the Penthouse. I only chuckled politely and made a small joke before greeting Garcia.
He was dressed in Gucci, already downing a glass of white whine. Upon spotting myself, clad in Dolce and Gabbana, he greeted me with open arms.
"There's the star of the party!" I gave him a small pat on the shoulder, smelling the tainted breath.
Well, there's one way to start out the night early.
Anthony Garcia turned to his brunette wife; I instantly noticed the curvature protruding from her red evening gown in her midsection. The plunging neckline was far too revealing for a brooding woman, accentuating her full breasts-ready to pop from their hiding spot.
"Mary, I don't believe you've had the honor to meet Bruce Wayne and his interests in keeping the city clean." He grinned, eyes twinkling, presenting his under dressed wife to me. Mary Rose shook my offering hand, her lips glittering in the chandeliers
I smile back to her, nodding in a false sense of approval.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Mary. And congratulations!" I exclaimed, seeing the Mayor hold her from behind, hands migrating over her bump.
She laughed, quietly scolding him. "My apologies, Mr. Wayne, my husband is rather excited about the news."
Scoffing playfully, I waved it off. "I understand."
We sat down at a round table, served another glass of Champagne, Mary having a ginger tea. Anthony downed glass after glass of alcohol, slurring his words slightly. "Now, what the people of Gotham do not understand in these times, is that the crime still exists. They've become blinded by the idea of the Joker being gone. What are we going to do if another enemy shows up?"
Mary rubbed her husband's arm, trying to calm the hot nerves in his body. "Tony, we are at a wonderful festivity, could you please let your worries slide? It's the holidays, baby..." She cooed.
I mentally begged him to continue.
"What do you think, Wayne?"
I cleared my throat, pulling dead skin off of my lip. "What about the man in the mask?"
Garcia almost choked on his drink, coughing. The brunette rolled her eyes, patting his back. She mouthed 'I'm sorry' to me. I shook it off with a smile. The Mayor might not have been a great role model, but he-like myself had the safety of Gotham set into his mind, the ideas of losing it once again haunting him over and over. My alter-ego, the Caped Crusader had not shown his colors in months of hiding, never to be called on again by the Commissioner, and ostracized by the very man who sat two feet away from me.
Admit it, Bruce. You miss those nights.
The adrenaline rush of the freefall.
The air whisking you away for a ride.
Delivering peace to Gotham...
"You mean... Batman, right?"
I shrugged in reply. Remember Wayne, you're not a full supporter of Batman. "It's been months since anyone has seen him on the streets. Maybe he will return in case of another threat?"
The Mayor let the words sink in. Stroking his chin, his voice dropped an octave, suddenly sobering up. "We hunted him. He is a wanted felon, responsible for the deaths of my officers. Even if I raised the white flag, inviting him back, what makes you think he will be so accepting of a new offer? We have turned on the man who has always protected our city. Why would he help when we ask of it again?"
It was true.
They never deserved another penny from me.
I did not need to pummel the brains out of robbers for Gotham.
I had spend the last few years of my life sacrificing my time and possible cover as Bruce Wayne to run around in a cape and mask, throwing people in the line of fire if I were to ever be unmasked. Alfred would be named as an assistant, Gordon would surely be jailed as well for obstruction of justice, and Jack... God, if Jack ever remembered his past, we would be facing the Joker's games once again... only after he would have discovered my alter-ego.
Exactly what he would want.
Batman was no longer a hero, but a new villain.
I wanted to shout to him, ripping off my clothing like Clark Kent, brandishing the Bat upon my chest piece. No.
"I believe everyone living in this world deserves a second chance. Why would I dismiss the possibility of Batman returning to our aid? He might still be a hero."
The Mayor scoffed to himself. I could tell he's had too much to drink, but he continued to mumble until they formed words upon his sour lips. "What about this Jack Napier guy... The Joker. He still staying with you?" The accentuation on my lover's name spat nails at me, my body temperature soaring.
Don't you dare say his name again.
"Yes, he is. He's somewhere..." I looked around, pretending to be nonchalant and uncaring. "...Around here."
"Well, Bruce. Do you think he deserves a second chance?" It was the first time I saw him frowning at me, his wife chastising him and trying to remove the glass from his hands. A few more minutes with him and she would be tossing her glass of tea on his face. Only after I had beaten his face in.
"Why would he not deserve a second chance?" I cleared my throat, gazing around for Jack, but no avail. "How many people have had a second chance in this world? Just look at the Falcones, even after the drug bust and plan to thwart my mansion, he's still walking around a free man. Casey Anthony was accused and even proven to have murdered her own child and she's being treated like a princess. Any celebrity with multiple DUIs are still doing the same thing, and they have all had their share of passes from the Judge. So why not Jack Napier?"
The words absorbed in his tainted brain, "You forget the Joker mauled dozens of people including Loeb and several soldiers!"
The words could not stay behind my teeth or tight lips anymore. "And so did Batman, but you're quick to re-invite him back into your city the minute you need him. The Joker stood for something more than anarchy in this city. You may not realize it, Mayor, but his ideas are far more advance than you or I, and he stands for something more than just a carved face and burning pile of dollar bills. He actually..." I trailed off, realizing I was quickly becoming a red flag in the Mayor's eyes.
Disguising my nervousness, I cleared my throat. "He's just waiting for his next trial, and then you can judge him for who or what he is."
At least he's drunk. The likeliness of remembering this conversation is slim. Ha.
I spotted Alfred strutting towards me, urgency showing in his poker face. I nodded to Garcia and his wife, "If you could please excuse me, I hope you both have a wonderful night." Kissing the top of her hand, I gave a genuine smile. "Merry Christmas."
Alfred met me halfway through the sea of suits and gowns, his white gloved hands holding a silver platter.
"What is it?"
He leaned into the crook of my neck to whisper, "I believe it would be best if we cut off our newest resident from the bar."
"Cut off?" ...Oh.
I looked up, scanning the crowd. "Where is he?"
"I believe I spotted Cinderella on the balcony." He shook his head, laughing quietly to himself. "A quarter past nine and he already sees it fit to call it a night. Should I...?"
"No, Alfred. I can take him up." Sighing, I wondered what kind of damage a drunken, amnesiac Joker would do at a holiday party held by his worst enemy. I could only imagine a Dark Knight before Christmas, chasing the Joker in a Santa suit up the chimney in the Gotham night.
Parting through the sea of people, I stepped outside to the cool December air, the crisp oxygen filling my insides with a bit of relief. I turned around the corner to look for Jack when something collided with myself.
I found myself staring into the hazel eyes of Commissioner Gordon, who reeked of pipe tobacco.
"Oh, uh, good evening Bruce. Merry Christmas." He smiled, which was almost never good.
Good God, he's drunk too.
Am I the only sober one here?
"Commissioner, is everything alright?"
He adjusted the glasses upon his face, avoiding my full gaze. From the profile of his face against the dark night outside, I noticed the swollen side of his left jawline, slowly taking upon a violet hue through the graying hair in his beard. Gordon smiled at me, patting my shoulder as he passed by. "That kid you're taking care of... he's got nasty right hook."
He stopped forcefully after my hand smacked his chest, preventing him from venturing back inside the party. I examined the wound as he allowed me to turn his face. A little blood from a ring grazing his skin, the edge of his lip swelling with white blood cells. God, Jack... what the hell did you do? Swallowing the lump in my throat, I sighed. "Jack did this...?"
Please say no.
At least lie about it.
"I said some things I shouldn't have. I think I might have hurt him a little more than just a little knock on the face."
I shook my head, rubbing my temples. "Is everything alright?" I felt embarrassed to even look my old friend in the eye. Jack had struck him, and I was lucky not to see a group of the feds taking him out in handcuffs, especially in the middle of my Christmas party. Jesus, Jack. Why now?
The older man slapped his hand on my shoulder, squeezing softly. "We had a nice talk, and I excused him from his actions as did he." He looked around as if to tell me a secret. "I would be careful with your boyfriend, Wayne, he's got quite a kick to him if you know what I mean."
Play it off!
I laughed in response... and trailed off when I noticed he was not laughing either. I hung my head low. "Did he tell you?"
Shaking his head, he smiled to me, sullen and peaceful much like my father. "I fished it out of him. I'm sorry, Bruce. I just want you to be careful with your wild child."
Having nothing left to say to me, my old friend James Gordon exited the party with his best wishes for myself and my boyfriend. I became giddy with the idea. How was everything falling together so easily, and even the Commissioner admitted he was watching over us both. Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night. Grinning from ear to ear, I searched for my supposed drunk lover.
I did not want to be disturbed at any point in that moment, but the soothing voice, like honey, released me from my intoxicated trance state. My vision only allowed me to see in double, my prince standing over me in the moonlight. Annoyingly, I could not harness the power inside myself to speak.
Mustering all of my strength, I forced a nod, almost losing my balance from sitting cross-legged on the balcony floor. His strong palms prevented me from falling flat on my face, pushing me back into an upright sitting position. He shook his head.
"How much did you drink?"
By the sound of his voice, he was not angry-more curious as to how I got this drunk in as little time as I did. My head throbbed. I felt ill and dizzy. Oh god.
"Plenty." was the only word I could manage out of my rubbery lips at this point.
He laughed at me.
Talking me through the drunken slander that poured out of my mouth, he somehow managed to stand me on my feet. I leaned on his shoulder, arm wrapped around his waist and another swinging around my empty bottle of water. I moaned into his jacket, "I'm sorry I'm a party pooperrr..."
Bruce was rolling his eyes at me, but I trusted him enough to take me to bed through the festivities. He was not upset, and I thanked Gordon for speaking with him as well. Maybe Gordon isn't such a bad guy...
I walked four steps before I lost my balance and fell into the side of the outside wall. He released his grip on me, allowing my body to slide down the slick surface to the floor again.
I could almost cry. "I'm drunk, Bruce..."
He leaned down again, laughing. This was all entertaining to him. "No shit. You're completely plastered."
"So are youuu!"
Jesus, Jack. You sound like a drunk teenage girl.
Stop it before you cause any more damage.
"No, Jack, I'm not drunk. I had two glasses of champagne and I don't plan on drowning in my own intoxicated stupor. Come on, get up." He yanked me to my feet once again. "We gotta make it through this labyrinth up to your bedroom. Think you can walk?"
"In a minute..."
His sparkling brown eyes met mine, warming my heart with urges and the need to have his body against mine tonight. I lazily draped my arm over his shoulder and back, glancing over his shoulder to confirm that we were alone. "I lobee you..." Bruce traced his hand up my back, another pushing away the curls from my face.
"And I love you."
I pushed myself forward, meeting him halfway to lock our lips together, beginning a little sloppy game of tonsil hockey. He giggled in my mouth; I smiled against his lips and tongue, pulling him closer into my body. I need you and your body on top of me right now. The urgency of the need for sex was overwhelming my senses, always wanting a little series of a drunken night together.
From over his shoulder in my peripheral vision, I spotted another body come into my visionary, blurry, frame.
Come on, Gordon, stop being a pervert...
That's when I noticed the white hair and glint of silver.
My heart lept in my chest, almost feeling as if I were going to throw it up and pushed Bruce away, breaking off our make out session.
A crash echoed within the night, glass shattering upon the marble floor.
Bruce shook out of a lust driven trance, following the sound of the crash. He froze in place, as I almost blacked out- the migraine making its ever familiar return to my senses. I wanted to reach out to my lover; my mind screamed at me. I could only watch the expression melt from his face, a cold sweat breaking upon his forehead as he stared out at his oldest friend, knowing the nights events had taken a turn for the worst.
I wanted to disappear, or die.
Bruce Wayne staggered on his feet, his voice caught in his throat.