TA DA! New chapter for everyone! Okay, so this chapter's a bit weird. But I want you guys to just think about where I'm coming from with it. Because a lot of you might think it's OOC... and I'm really sorry if it is! But I think it makes sense, in my little twisted world!

I don't own Batman or any of the characters in the series.

This is Heath Ledger's Joker, and Christian Bale's Batman, because I love them the most!


"Listen. If anything were to happen to all your precious money… how would YOU feel?" The Joker asked the large group of mob bosses and cronies, all sitting around a circular table. Of course, he had shown up unannounced, as usual. He just wanted to clear the slate with everyone here.

A large man at the end of the table stood up. "Are you threatening us!?"

"…Nooo…" The clown grinned slightly, leaning against the table. "Ya see, I'm not new to this game. You've got… police, ordinary citizens… everyone's lookin' for you guys now! I mean, stealing from a bank? Big no-no, unless ya know how to do it. Someone snaps a picture- bam!" He paused for dramatic effect, grinning. "Your face is on the daily news and you're all being hunted like little sitting ducks."

"We know our situation is becoming more dire." One of the men called over, glaring at the Joker. "We're trying to fix it. By fix it, I mean… we're staying hidden."

"…That's your next move!?" The Joker laughed, and it erupted and bounced off the ceiling, echoing through the pretty much empty room, save for the table they all stood and sat around. His large cackle emptied into little giggles and he grinned, licking his lips. "Alright, well that's easy to SAY… but can ya pull it off? Sounds like you're all just scared, to me!"

One of the particularly large, muscled men stood up angrily. A few others watched the clown with loathing in their eyes.

"See, if it were ME…" The Joker scratched the back of his neck, his dark eyes looking back up. "I would try and maybe take out some police officer. Someone a lot of people KNOW. Someone liiike…"

"That commissioner guy." One of the men ended the sentence for the madman, who laughed, pointing at him.

"There ya go!"

As he went quiet, a lot of the men started to murmur among themselves, trying to decide what to do. The rather portly man at the end, who seemed surrounded by large, burly men, (security guards, probably), stood up again. "Alright, ALRIGHT!" He shouted, waiting for everyone's whisperings to die down. "…We're not taking advice from this… this… I don't even know! We're not going to change tactics now! We lie low for a little while until this whole scandal dies down. The picture's been taken at the bank, and we can't do ANYTHING about it! We'll strike once this whole fiasco is forgotten about!"

The Joker raised a brow, grinning as he sat in his chair, leaning back and scratching a hand through his greasy green mane. "Not gonna listen? Aww, that's too bad, big guy. I thought I might talk some sense into you all!" He shrugged, getting to his feet and brushing off his coat.

"Wait, you weren't even ALLOWED in here!" The large man said angrily. He pointed at the clown and his burly men came over. Of course, The Joker was used to THIS as well. He reached into a pocket of his old dusty trench, pulling out a gun and pointing it at the large man at the far end of the table.

"Wait wait waaaait…" He said with a small grin, walking backwards towards the door. The cronies had stopped now, and the Joker turned tail and bolted out of the building and out the door.

"Follow him!" The portly man shouted, and his large, burly men ran off in pursuit.

Considering the murderer's long legs and his lithe body, he was pretty good at running. He hurried off down the alleyway and off onto a side street. When he heard the thumping of large bodies following behind him, he pulled out his gun, turning his head to see and trying to aim. Oh, it was definitely hard when you were running- you kept knocking the gun around. He shot and it nearly hit one of the men's arms.

"Hurry up!" A dark skinned man shouted at the others before lunging and making the clown fall over on the concrete. He laughed- hard.

"Aww damn!" Joker laughed good naturedly, looking up at the man who brought a fist up, smashing it into the side of his face. The gun flew from his grasp and he fell onto the concrete with a strangled chuckle, blood dripping from his already red lips.

"Stop. LAUGHING!" The man shouted, kicking hard into the side of the smaller male's ribs, satisfied with the sound of a crack. One of the flunkies ran up with an old iron pipe and sent it down hard into the purple suited man's back. Once he didn't get up, they all stepped back.

Of course, the sound of panting, hoarse giggles was still audible… but he wasn't trying to stand up. His body stayed hunched over against the floor and blood dripped from his lips, and stained his green vest from the hard kick that had been delivered.

"…Come on, boys." The burly men walked off.

"Ahh…" The Joker laughed slowly, grasping the aching spots and watching the men leave. He pulled himself up against the low fence next to him, his whole body shaking. Pain wasn't too prominent in the Joker's laugh- then he felt it, he must have been hit pretty hard. He was used to just the tickly sensation of a well delivered punch to the gut. This was hurting a bit more than expected.
He felt around for his gun, finding it under a few old trash bags. He pushed it into his pocket and slowly began to walk down the alleyway.

Where was he going? Where was the closest place he could get this looked at? His lookout was on the other side of the city, and one of the other hideouts was way too far. He groaned, covering his face with a hand before chuckling.

No, he wouldn't go there…

But when the huge building loomed in front of him, he was faced with the choice. But what villain in their right mind would ask Batman for help?


"Alfred!" Bruce rushed out of the elevator, fixing the cuff links on his sleeves and pulling on his gray blazer. "Alfred, are you in there?" He asked, walking into the large kitchen on the very first floor of the complex. He had needed to come down before attending his meeting. Alfred was in the backroom of the working kitchen, fixing something for Bruce to eat later.

"Yes, Master Wayne. Are you going upstairs to your meeting?" He asked, preoccupied with trying to make the other some dinner before he went out on his nightly crusades.

Bruce nodded his head slowly. In truth, he was really not looking forward to it. He was more worried about where the Joker had gone. That man… he would be the death of him. He ran off before he could even catch him… after what they had done in the meeting room...

Bruce coughed, glancing over at Alfred. "I'm just going to see if anything's on the news here, since I'm already dressed." He explained, smiling. "Thank you for preparing dinner. I'll be back soon." He nodded before walking off, out of the kitchen, down the hall, and to the large living room. He walked to the large tv screen and turned it on to the news.

"Rumors have been spreading about a large group of mob men who have raided the Gotham Bank a week ago. No one has seen nor heard of any of them for the past week, and people are starting to think they have disappeared, or are waiting for their next attack."

"…What about the Joker?" Bruce asked angrily, more to himself than to anyone. When the doorbell rang, he glanced over at the doorway behind him. Alfred was busy…

"I'll get it, Alfred!" He shouted to him. It had been a long time since Bruce had been able to answer the door.

The doorbell didn't stop ringing. It was as if someone were just pressing the button down. The ringing hurt his ears and he ran to the door, opening it quickly.

"Hello, how can-" Bruce stared at the bloody man in front of him.

"Hiya, Bats. I got a problem…" The Joker grinned, showing his yellowed teeth. His makeup was smudged near his chin and on one side of his cheek, where he had hit pavement. Blood was dried and cracked at the corner of one of his lips, and he was standing at an odd angle. A large bloody spot had formed on his ribs and he was leaning heavily against the wall of the complex, hand still pressed into the doorbell.

"…What the hell did you do!?" Bruce hissed angrily, glancing back at the kitchen hallway to make sure Alfred wasn't coming before grabbing the other's arm, pulling him off through the living room and to the elevator. He shoved him inside before stepping in and pressing the 28th floor button. He glanced over at the Joker, who was grinning. "No, Seriously, Joker. What the hell did you do!?" He asked, walking over to the other and pulling off his trench coat without any protest from the clown.

The Joker grinned. "Thanks for your concern. I got in trouble with some big time bosses and pointing a gun at their fat ruler was a bit too much for their tiny minds to handle. Sooo I got chased down- Eee, be careful!" He winced a tiny bit when the other touched his side.

Bruce rolled his eyes, looking closely at the blood before fixing himself up. "You're lucky I'm used to bandaging wounds. I don't even know what possessed you to come over here, Joker."

The Joker's brows rose. "You don't know? We can't live without each other, Brucey! So I figured you might help me out!" Despite his weak state, the clown grabbed the other's neck, making Bruce blink in surprise. The Joker grinned and pulled his lips down into a small kiss.

The entrepreneur could taste the blood in the others mouth, and he pulled away after a moment. He couldn't let this continue… they weren't a COUPLE. They were Batman and the Joker!

"…Alright, come on." Bruce said with a small sigh of defeat, watching the doors finally open to the large suite at the top floor. He pulled the other in by the wrist, watching him stagger a bit before walking behind him. He sat the Joker down on the large leather couch. "…Stay here." He ordered, glaring at the other who simply grinned, trying to be cute.

The billionaire walked off into the bathroom, collecting all sorts of different bandages, ointments, and gauze. He had no idea why he was helping this man. He had killed Rachel… and he had killed many more. He was a murderer, and a thief, and an evil villain. He wasn't supposed to be caring about his wounds and treating him. He was SUPPOSED to just close the door and go on with his life.
But if Bruce had closed that door, an instant later, he would have felt worry and guilt and anger at himself… he had never seen the Joker in pain before. And it had to be pretty intense pain for him to actually show it.

He came back to find the Joker still sitting on the couch. "I'm getting your fine upholstery all dirty!" The smaller man said with a frown, though the long scars on his cheeks made it into a sort of lopsided smile.

"It's fine, I can always get it cleaned." Bruce mumbled, kneeling down in front of the other's body and putting all the first aid items down. He sighed, reaching over and undoing the buttons of the other's vest for him. He slid it off the small shoulders and let it fall onto the floor.

There was even more blood on his blue button down shirt, and he pulled that away from the large wound as well, letting it hang off the other's shoulders comfortably. "…How'd this happen?"

"I got kicked." When Bruce glanced at him with a raised eyebrow, he chuckled. "I got kicked HARD." He said, leaning back against the leather. Bruce frowned, noting the pale flesh of the other's body. He was surprised at the normal tint. He was used to staring at that white makeup and red face paint.

He grabbed a water bottle lying beside him and dipped some gauze against it, cleaning up the wound. "Does this happen a lot?" Bruce asked conversationally to fill the slight pause in conversation.

The Joker grinned, leaning his head back so his Adams apple protruded slightly from his long neck. "Not a lot, nooo. I usually get out without anyone chasing after me! But that guy was just sooo offended…" He chuckled gently, glancing down at the other, who rolled his eyes.

"Why do you bother, if they never listen?" Bruce asked irritably, wrapping a bandage around the other's waist, leaning his arms around it to get the gauze around and tying it once he had it secured.

"For fun!" The Joker smirked, glancing down at the other. "And to keep you occupied, of course. But this time it wasn't about… the Batman." He licked his lips a bit, and Bruce wondered if that one was out of habit, or if he was thinking of something else.

The entrepreneur stood up, asking, "Any more injuries, then?" He frowned. He was pretty angry with himself for succumbing and letting this murderer into his house. It was as if his Batman side was battling with his Bruce side.

"Just my heart!" The clown smirked, watching the other and winking before leaning back against the couch. "You have a nice place, Brucey. Can I come over more often?"

"No. You're lucky I let you in this time!" Bruce growled, standing and going to put the first aid items away. He heard the other laughing and glanced back at him, rolling his eyes. He placed everything back in the cabinet in the master bathroom and walked back out. "Alright. Alfred is going to be wondering who was at the door… but he thinks I'm at a meeting. So that should buy a bit of time."

"A meeting? With a bunch of stuffy business partners? Nah, Brucey, you should stay here with me! So I don't get lonely!"

"More like so you don't blow up my complex." Bruce said in a biting tone, walking back over to the living room area and sitting in one of the chairs. The Joker looked down at his bloody shirt and vest.

"…Got any clothes I can borrow?" He asked with a smile. Everything of his was pretty much covered in blood.

Bruce stood, walking to the closet. He had many very expensive suits, ones he didn't want to be touched by that… that clown. He grabbed an older pair of black tuxedo pants and a white shirt, throwing them at him. The Joker smiled, standing up with a small wince, cracking his back.

"Remember when I hit your back with a lead pipe, Bruce?" The Joker asked, folding the clothing against his arm.

Oh, Bruce remembered. It was at the top floor of that building, chasing him down, with all the SWAT team cars and the hostages…

"Yeah, I remember."

"Well now I feel bad about it." The Joker chuckled, rubbing his own back and walking over to the entrepreneur, planting a kiss on his cheek and walking off into the bathroom to change.

Bruce rubbed the red makeup from his face quickly and sat down on the couch irritably, collecting the other's bloody clothing.

He had no idea what he was doing. He had the Joker in his house… on his top floor. He had treated his wounds and now he was putting on his clothes? He could have easily called the police right then and there, and gotten the clown cooped up in Arkham again. But for some reason, he didn't want to.


Yeah, a bit weird. But thanks so much for reading! The next chapter should be up sometime this week! Thanks so much for reading, guys! It means a lot!