Not Quite The Bat...Part 9
Not Quite the Bat...Part 9
Title: Not Quite the Bat...
Disclaimer: If I owned them they would have less clothing while together
Rating: PG13-R
Warnings: Gore, language
Characters/Pairings: Batman/Joker
Summary: A last stand by a band of Gotham's worst nearly kill The Batman and The Joker is less than pleased. No one stands between Joker and his Bat and he aims to make sure it never happens again...
A/N: Sorry it took so long, my computer went to the great circuit city in the sky. O.o
He could remember all the long sleepless nights, the way he would wake when anyone else entered the room, how even when he slept he could never rest, always haunted. The way his body would freeze in the first moments of waking, ready to spring, to attack. But when gentle hands woke him, moving over his body, memorizing him, he did not feel that familiar adrenalin. The need to be up and aware with a blade in his hand. He was being held in the darkness with only the fluttering of bats above them and he remained warm and pliant, undeniably and bizarrely…safe. There was no ray of morning sunshine to wake him, to help his internal clock, but what did it matter when he had a Batman alarm to wake him. He did not miss the sunshine.
“Hey”
The dark beautiful voice rumbled from the chest he lay on, thick with disuse, The Knight hid his smile in the fabric over Batman’s chest. Ever the gentleman, he thought to himself. The Bat knew he was awake but still took the time to coax him into gently waking. He didn’t move.
He expected the hands to tread heavier, to hear the voice in his ear again but not how the world suddenly twirled, whirling him onto his back. He opened his eyes as the Bats muscled body settled on top of him, just in time to see his mouth disappear from view as it melded against his own.
The Knight whimpered helplessly, this was no chaste morning kiss, his lips were still swollen from the night before, the taste of Batman still lingered in his mouth and then it was back entirely, warm and wet and hard. Their bodies entwined and there was no time to think, only to feel as the cobwebs of the night cleared out of his mind and made room only for how perfectly they fit together. How he wanted.
Batman pulled back, his panting breath torturous and lingering over the Knights wet lips, their bodies achingly entwined, pressed together and desperate.
Green eyes smoldered as he heaved air into his burning lungs.“Being a cock tease is not. A gentleman thing to do.” He meant it to come out a growl but it twisted with a moan.
Lips were against his own again but delving no deeper, the fight was taken out of him when all he could think of was how they fit together like a mutilated puzzle, all the pieces cut it jagged painful shards and Batman had all his missing pieces.
“I will try to do better in the future.” Strong arms lay on either side if his head, lifting the bat off of him, sacrificing touch to see each other. He continued to glare playfully but when he looked into his eyes he did not see the reluctant playfulness or even lust he expected, he saw something deep, something fathomless and painful that he had no word for, only a deep resonance within himself.
“I needed to see you…needed to feel you before you had time to build your walls against me. I needed-” He could see how difficult it was for Batman to talk but there was no way he could help, he felt exposed, naked, his throat dry. “I needed to feel you before all your masks were back in place. Before you could protect yourself from me.”
It was raw, painful, vulnerable and now he had a word for it that made his heart thunder painfully. Love.
Batman was in love with him.
This was not a theoretical or even a probable love, it was not a ‘what if?’, it was absolute, definite, as sure as he had always loved the Bat the Bat loved him. His heart stopped and the acrid air hardened in his lungs, killing him, suffocating him, he needed to vomit. At least that’s how he felt.
“Still wearing my mask Batboy.” His response was automatic, nonchalant, his mind was racing and he could not find a second to think of the implications of what this meant, not when every touch, every look drove the thoughts from his mind.
Batman gently touched the edge of his mask, running his fingers along the length, dragging across exposed skin.
“You know this mask is not the one I am talking about.”
He swallowed thickly. Yes he knew, but did Batman have any idea that his presence drove away the darkness? That with every word he promised a life unknown, a life that could be, strange and human and brilliant. Did have any idea how he needed the thick dark evil? Comforting and familiar, known, understood, tamed and wild. The Knight lay here in Batman’s dark light but the Joker was dying inside. Did Batman know what he had done? Could he possibly understand what was at stake?
It was no longer a wondrous game they played. They had fallen down the rabbit’s hole, crossed the line between Romeo and Juliet’s first love games and found themselves on the precipice of death already and the Joker lay on the prier nearly consumed.
It was in his face, in his heart, in his soul, it did not matter where, just that it was. Because Batman had fallen, his Achilles heel exposed and waiting for the arrows tip. Batman was in love and nothing could break him from that. The cold, unfeeling, withdrawn, barely human Bat had fallen in love and nothing could save him. If he was to break the Bats heart now, to come out of hiding, to show his face, there would be no coming back. Love had infused his every cell and if he broke, if he shattered, they would both die.
Was the Joker happy? Did it matter? He could survive. As the Clown Prince of Crime, as the Ying to Batman’s Yang he could never break the bat the way he could now, the way The Knight could break him with the slip of a mask, an ill-fated word. As the Joker he would never have to suffer the pain of losing this.
Turning back, becoming the Joker again was a safe bet, not happy, moments of bliss, flares of joy while they clashed and perpetual undermining melancholy. But the Bat would live and while the Bat lived he
too could…exist.
Staying like this…this new take on himself, not less damaged but infinitely happier, in a life the Joker could not conceive of was dangerous. He could have everything, or he could lose it all. Even if they could last, if they could beat the odds, tell the crossed stars that they made their own fate, or as Harvey would put it, their own luck, and stay in L-, stay like this, they would always be haunted. If the Bat ever knew… The images were ingrained forever in his mind, the first time they met as they were now, the terrible rhythm of Batman's heart, the mindless horror in his eyes when he knew Strange was dead… The feel of him in his arms, cold and dying. He knew what fear was. Could he watch as the unforeseen love in his ice blue eyes became hate and harden against him? Could he watch night by night the man he held in his arms now grow more reckless, throwing himself mindlessly, violently into the evil of Gotham? Could he watch the torment tear at him until it became too much and one final ungodly bullet- No. Yes, he knew true fear now and nothing, nothing would ever be worth the pain of going through that again.
The Knight lay in Batman’s arms, the full intensity of his being enveloping him and all he could think was I am going to save us both. I am going to break your heart.
I am going to save you.
“See, there it is. I can see the change in you.” Batman’s voice was a sigh but there was still a melancholy smile on his lips as bent he head and caught the Knights frozen lips in a kiss. “I can feel it.”
Something stung the back of his eyes, wet and unnatural, he wanted to arc into that touch, to lose himself in Batman’s kiss, so numbered now, but if he moved he was afraid he might shatter and all the jagged pieces would cut into them both.
“Come on, time to get up. I want to get some training in before breakfast.” Batman stood, letting the subject drop for now, a hand was being held out to him. Numbly he took it and let himself be pulled up.
His chest hurt and there was a pang in his gut like his body was trying to eat itself. He needed time, time away from the Batman’s constant presence, his perfectly tailored temptation. He needed to clear his mind, to think, he needed to hit something, he needed to hurt.
When a dozen batarangs were handed to him and Batman pointed to a target he had set up he was thrilled. Mechanical violence, the shining black blades in his hands were almost familiar, almost like having Batman chase him at a caper, it almost felt like he should hold his breath and wait for the first devastating and necessary blow to his face…but life was never that easy.
Each throw was wonderful; he was throwing them wrong so their sharp edges bit into his hands, the sharp pang relief from the aching cancerous throbbing in his chest. Thud. One hit the target, an arm of the paper target. His head began to clear.
Thud. A leg.
Maybe he had read things wrong.
Thud. A shoulder.
Maybe things were not as bad as they seemed.
Thud. Another shoulder.
Maybe Batman could survive if he found out who his new partner really was.
Thud. The neck.
Maybe he could have this and if his gamble lost he could still fall back into what they had had so long ago.
Thud. The heart.
Maybe the Batman wasn’t in love with him.
“Stop!” Batman was in front of him, the Batarangs were taken away from him, discarded on the floor in a pile of beautifully glinting metal. It sounded like it wasn’t the first time he had been told to stop.
Batman’s hands were holding his. There was blood; the sensitive white flesh of his palm was shredded. The burning pain in his hand subsided and everywhere Batman touched him erupted in flames. He was dying.
A clean white bandage was pressed into his hand and held in place. Batman was trying to look at him, to see through him again but he could not let that happen. He was falling apart inside; he needed to end this now before he killed both of them, he needed-
A strong hand lifted his chin and sharp blue eyes seared into him, straight through him, slowly rooting out all of his secrets.
“No!” He didn’t recognize the scream, but he felt the sandpaper in his throat. He couldn’t look away, could not stop Batman from seeing him, but Batman could not take any more, he broke their gaze. Strong arms wrapped around him, enveloped him. He wanted to melt into him, to be safe here, but he wasn’t! He couldn’t! But he did not struggle as he was engulfed in Batman’s embrace.
“Don’t!” He could see only black, he was surrounded by it, hiding them; the voice was a growl in his ear. “Don’t hurt yourself anymore.”
“W-What?” That shocked him. He wasn’t hurting himself, he was just…existing.
“I…I’m sorry.” The last word was foreign and rough. The hold on him became tighter as if Batman was trying to force them together, it felt like he never wanted to let go. “I should not have kissed you like that. I knew you might take it badly and I still-damn it.”
Batman swore. He would have laughed if he didn’t feel like crying.
“Just don’t do this anymore!” Batman’s growl broke as he crushed the bloodied hand to himself, pressing both of their fists to his bowed head, he could feel Batman’s lips on his skin. “Nothing I do should ever make you do this. Not ever.”
He let himself be held. He was numb. He needed-
“I want to throw some more.” Batman’s grip tightened momentarily but he was released. Batman walked away and he felt the painful thumbing in his heart speed up. There was no escaping this.
Batman was back, his warm hands stretching more clean white gauze around his shredded hand. Batman didn’t speak as he took a pair of thick gauntlets and pulled them into place over the bandage.
He could feel Batman’s eyes on him as he gathered the batarangs from the floor but it did not matter. He threw the first one.
Thud. The chest.
It wasn’t as good. No matter how he held the blade it would never cut through the Kevlar.
Thud. The groin.
No sharp relief. Just the dull throbbing pain. He could remember playing games with the Bat. 'Hit me!’
Thud. The arm.
Explosions of pain. Yes. More.
Thud. The head.
He did not hurt himself. Life hurt him, he just enjoyed it.
Thud. The stomach.
He couldn’t fool himself now. Batman had said sorry. Wedding rings would have been more discreet.
Thud. The heart. The blade missed the other batarang by a breath.
Batman was the only one who had ever stopped life from hurting him. He was the only one who ever cared about something like cuts on his hand. Batman who could not survive knowing who had once been the clown killer of Gotham, could not survive knowing whose ribs he had broken, whose face he had smashed all those times. ‘hit me’
He was out of batarangs, there was no relief in sight and he felt like throwing up. Or hurting something. Either way.
They stood like that, neither knowing what to do. One not knowing where he stood. They might have stayed like that all day if not for the deliberately loud footfalls approaching them.
“It seems you are adept already.” Alfred offered a smile to the Knight as he set down a tray of food. “Batman it seems you will not have to be as protective as you anticipated.” He took a step back, clearly indicating that they should both take the proffered food. Neither moved.
“Come now. You both have a full day ahead of you.” He turned to Bruce, taking in the situation as quickly as he dismissed it in his own way. They stood apart, their eyes were cold and faces drawn, the target littered with batarangs even had a hint of blood splatter on it. The course of true love never did run smoothly.
“This is the first appearance you will make in Gotham in quite some time you must be ready.” He turned to the Knight, Alfred was reminded of the look Bruce so often had as a child, more lost than anything.
“And there is more to the cave than just what you have seen. Not to mention all the files you should read before going out patrolling.”
“Alfred.” Bruce’s voice was subdued and tortured, reminiscent of the days before the Knight had come into his life. “There was been a change of plans. I cannot go out today.” He took a step closer to the
Knight.
The Knight took a breath of relief. The Bat was going out? Yes this is what he needed. Time to plan. Time to clear his head. Time to distance himself from the situation, from the pain the Bat was all too willing to unknowingly inflict.
“No. Go. I will be alright.” The Knight regained his composure, an easy smile slipping into place as he snatched an apple off the platter with his still-gloved hand. “Besides Al will be with me.”
Bruce frowned as he watched the man who infiltrated his life and stole his reason from him flee to the safety of Alfred. Bruce could see green eyes flicker away from him, a plastic smile on his face, he could see the results of his own ineptitude. He couldn’t drag his own eyes from the gloved hands, bleeding within their dark confines. It was like looking into a twisted mirror image, masks and mindless violence, the need to be alone and the pain of every second of knowledge that alone was not how he wanted to live.
The Knight snuck closer to Alfred, hiding in his protective wing. Bruce was almost envious, no one was immune to Alfred’s charm, there was something in his dry English humor, something so intrinsically good in Alfred that it made people feel safe. It was almost as if Alfred could not help but be a mother to all of his lost boys. Bruce almost smiled; somehow he thought Alfred would be less than pleased with the comparison.
While he watched the apple became a toy more than breakfast, deft hands threw and caught it over and over, a show of nonchalance Bruce knew was specially crafted for his eyes. He pretended not to watch as the tosses slowed under Alfred gaze and the apple moved as if of its own accord back to the Knights mouth, breakfast once more. Alfred smiled. Yes, if he had to leave and make his reappearance into the world as Bruce Wayne Alfred would hold his life together while he was away.
Time was escaping him, he had to go get dressed for the day ahead, a meeting in less than an hour and he still had to apply the bruises that the car crash Bruce Wayne had suffered would result in. He took a step forward, deliberate, obvious. The Knight frozen, a moment of panic, of indecision, his mouth frozen in place over the apple, then carried on as if nothing had happened.
Bruce didn’t want to leave him, not for a second, he didn’t want to give him time alone to become the man the Bat had become in his desolate darkness. He wanted to be here, to remind him constantly of another path, the life that could be, especially in this time where no future was certain, but the paths that lay before them lay just around the next turn. He watched the unconscious half step towards Alfred.
Not left alone then. There would always be Alfred.
He wanted that. To be that for the Knight. Be the person who would be in his life without question, constant, as necessary and pertinent as the air they both breathe.
He closed the distance between them, the apple fell to stone floor, forgotten, unnecessary as Bruce held him, enveloped him. The Knight was stone in his arms, muscles turned into steel cables, hardened against him, protecting him, hiding him. Batman would not have that. He captured him in a kiss, devouring him until the ice melted and the stone corroded and the walls of protection fell with a whimper that sounded like a growl.
“Until tonight.” And he was gone, Bruce Wayne once more, alone and incomplete, for now.
Alfred waited to see if he would wander off on his own, explore the vast unknown cave, but he didn’t. He didn’t have the energy, the desire, and maybe he didn’t want to see. All he could think of, all he could see, the only one he could hear, was batman. Batman. Batman. Broken. Dead. In love. Fuck.
He found himself led to the huge computer, scanning through old files, criminals, crimes, cops, Gotham itself. He didn’t read them, just watched as the colors flashed by, his fingers ticked against the keys again and again, repetitive, constant, good.
The tray of breakfast food appeared beside him and then disappeared untouched. The only indicator that the world was going on without him. That somewhere Batman was going on without him. Functioning. Alive. And if only he left now Batman could stay that way.
But he couldn’t very well leave without a word. Batman would follow him and for a moment the thought made his feel…warm…something, before he crushed it, shredded it and banned it from the contents of his dark mind. If Batman stayed with him he would find out his secrets and he would die and The Knight…The Joker…would be all alone. Not separated, not playing cops and robbers in their city playground, forever orphaned, forsaken, and alone.
Lunch came and it too left by silent hands.
Batman had to understand…and he had to understand only what he wanted him to. He could not very well say that it was over. ‘It’s not you it’s me’. For the first time in years he envied the pawns he mocked on the streets. What did they know about suffering or hardship? ‘I can’t break up with my boyfriend!’ How do you break up with The Batman?!
Hurt him.
Fight him. Rip out his heart, show it to him and cast it away. Hurt him to save him. ‘you’re a freak, your broken, warped, demented’ true. But also true about everyone they knew, he needed more. ‘you are not what I need. You are not what I want.’ Not even the Bat could argue with feelings, what did either of them understand about those anyway? ‘I don’t love you.’
‘I cant love you’
“I don’t love you.”
He could do this. He could save them both. But the computer screen disappeared, and a rose filled his vision, red and black and velvet. He could smell the blossom; he wanted to touch it, the silk petals, the deceiving thorns. His chair spun around and there he was, in a dark tuxedo with raven hair, blue eyes blazing from his short masquerade mask.
‘I cant…’
‘I shouldn’t…’
‘I dont-…fuck’
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Title: Not Quite the Bat...
Disclaimer: If I owned them they would have less clothing while together
Rating: PG13-R
Warnings: Gore, language
Characters/Pairings: Batman/Joker
Summary: A last stand by a band of Gotham's worst nearly kill The Batman and The Joker is less than pleased. No one stands between Joker and his Bat and he aims to make sure it never happens again...
A/N: Sorry it took so long, my computer went to the great circuit city in the sky. O.o
He could remember all the long sleepless nights, the way he would wake when anyone else entered the room, how even when he slept he could never rest, always haunted. The way his body would freeze in the first moments of waking, ready to spring, to attack. But when gentle hands woke him, moving over his body, memorizing him, he did not feel that familiar adrenalin. The need to be up and aware with a blade in his hand. He was being held in the darkness with only the fluttering of bats above them and he remained warm and pliant, undeniably and bizarrely…safe. There was no ray of morning sunshine to wake him, to help his internal clock, but what did it matter when he had a Batman alarm to wake him. He did not miss the sunshine.
“Hey”
The dark beautiful voice rumbled from the chest he lay on, thick with disuse, The Knight hid his smile in the fabric over Batman’s chest. Ever the gentleman, he thought to himself. The Bat knew he was awake but still took the time to coax him into gently waking. He didn’t move.
He expected the hands to tread heavier, to hear the voice in his ear again but not how the world suddenly twirled, whirling him onto his back. He opened his eyes as the Bats muscled body settled on top of him, just in time to see his mouth disappear from view as it melded against his own.
The Knight whimpered helplessly, this was no chaste morning kiss, his lips were still swollen from the night before, the taste of Batman still lingered in his mouth and then it was back entirely, warm and wet and hard. Their bodies entwined and there was no time to think, only to feel as the cobwebs of the night cleared out of his mind and made room only for how perfectly they fit together. How he wanted.
Batman pulled back, his panting breath torturous and lingering over the Knights wet lips, their bodies achingly entwined, pressed together and desperate.
Green eyes smoldered as he heaved air into his burning lungs.“Being a cock tease is not. A gentleman thing to do.” He meant it to come out a growl but it twisted with a moan.
Lips were against his own again but delving no deeper, the fight was taken out of him when all he could think of was how they fit together like a mutilated puzzle, all the pieces cut it jagged painful shards and Batman had all his missing pieces.
“I will try to do better in the future.” Strong arms lay on either side if his head, lifting the bat off of him, sacrificing touch to see each other. He continued to glare playfully but when he looked into his eyes he did not see the reluctant playfulness or even lust he expected, he saw something deep, something fathomless and painful that he had no word for, only a deep resonance within himself.
“I needed to see you…needed to feel you before you had time to build your walls against me. I needed-” He could see how difficult it was for Batman to talk but there was no way he could help, he felt exposed, naked, his throat dry. “I needed to feel you before all your masks were back in place. Before you could protect yourself from me.”
It was raw, painful, vulnerable and now he had a word for it that made his heart thunder painfully. Love.
Batman was in love with him.
This was not a theoretical or even a probable love, it was not a ‘what if?’, it was absolute, definite, as sure as he had always loved the Bat the Bat loved him. His heart stopped and the acrid air hardened in his lungs, killing him, suffocating him, he needed to vomit. At least that’s how he felt.
“Still wearing my mask Batboy.” His response was automatic, nonchalant, his mind was racing and he could not find a second to think of the implications of what this meant, not when every touch, every look drove the thoughts from his mind.
Batman gently touched the edge of his mask, running his fingers along the length, dragging across exposed skin.
“You know this mask is not the one I am talking about.”
He swallowed thickly. Yes he knew, but did Batman have any idea that his presence drove away the darkness? That with every word he promised a life unknown, a life that could be, strange and human and brilliant. Did have any idea how he needed the thick dark evil? Comforting and familiar, known, understood, tamed and wild. The Knight lay here in Batman’s dark light but the Joker was dying inside. Did Batman know what he had done? Could he possibly understand what was at stake?
It was no longer a wondrous game they played. They had fallen down the rabbit’s hole, crossed the line between Romeo and Juliet’s first love games and found themselves on the precipice of death already and the Joker lay on the prier nearly consumed.
It was in his face, in his heart, in his soul, it did not matter where, just that it was. Because Batman had fallen, his Achilles heel exposed and waiting for the arrows tip. Batman was in love and nothing could break him from that. The cold, unfeeling, withdrawn, barely human Bat had fallen in love and nothing could save him. If he was to break the Bats heart now, to come out of hiding, to show his face, there would be no coming back. Love had infused his every cell and if he broke, if he shattered, they would both die.
Was the Joker happy? Did it matter? He could survive. As the Clown Prince of Crime, as the Ying to Batman’s Yang he could never break the bat the way he could now, the way The Knight could break him with the slip of a mask, an ill-fated word. As the Joker he would never have to suffer the pain of losing this.
Turning back, becoming the Joker again was a safe bet, not happy, moments of bliss, flares of joy while they clashed and perpetual undermining melancholy. But the Bat would live and while the Bat lived he
too could…exist.
Staying like this…this new take on himself, not less damaged but infinitely happier, in a life the Joker could not conceive of was dangerous. He could have everything, or he could lose it all. Even if they could last, if they could beat the odds, tell the crossed stars that they made their own fate, or as Harvey would put it, their own luck, and stay in L-, stay like this, they would always be haunted. If the Bat ever knew… The images were ingrained forever in his mind, the first time they met as they were now, the terrible rhythm of Batman's heart, the mindless horror in his eyes when he knew Strange was dead… The feel of him in his arms, cold and dying. He knew what fear was. Could he watch as the unforeseen love in his ice blue eyes became hate and harden against him? Could he watch night by night the man he held in his arms now grow more reckless, throwing himself mindlessly, violently into the evil of Gotham? Could he watch the torment tear at him until it became too much and one final ungodly bullet- No. Yes, he knew true fear now and nothing, nothing would ever be worth the pain of going through that again.
The Knight lay in Batman’s arms, the full intensity of his being enveloping him and all he could think was I am going to save us both. I am going to break your heart.
I am going to save you.
“See, there it is. I can see the change in you.” Batman’s voice was a sigh but there was still a melancholy smile on his lips as bent he head and caught the Knights frozen lips in a kiss. “I can feel it.”
Something stung the back of his eyes, wet and unnatural, he wanted to arc into that touch, to lose himself in Batman’s kiss, so numbered now, but if he moved he was afraid he might shatter and all the jagged pieces would cut into them both.
“Come on, time to get up. I want to get some training in before breakfast.” Batman stood, letting the subject drop for now, a hand was being held out to him. Numbly he took it and let himself be pulled up.
His chest hurt and there was a pang in his gut like his body was trying to eat itself. He needed time, time away from the Batman’s constant presence, his perfectly tailored temptation. He needed to clear his mind, to think, he needed to hit something, he needed to hurt.
When a dozen batarangs were handed to him and Batman pointed to a target he had set up he was thrilled. Mechanical violence, the shining black blades in his hands were almost familiar, almost like having Batman chase him at a caper, it almost felt like he should hold his breath and wait for the first devastating and necessary blow to his face…but life was never that easy.
Each throw was wonderful; he was throwing them wrong so their sharp edges bit into his hands, the sharp pang relief from the aching cancerous throbbing in his chest. Thud. One hit the target, an arm of the paper target. His head began to clear.
Thud. A leg.
Maybe he had read things wrong.
Thud. A shoulder.
Maybe things were not as bad as they seemed.
Thud. Another shoulder.
Maybe Batman could survive if he found out who his new partner really was.
Thud. The neck.
Maybe he could have this and if his gamble lost he could still fall back into what they had had so long ago.
Thud. The heart.
Maybe the Batman wasn’t in love with him.
“Stop!” Batman was in front of him, the Batarangs were taken away from him, discarded on the floor in a pile of beautifully glinting metal. It sounded like it wasn’t the first time he had been told to stop.
Batman’s hands were holding his. There was blood; the sensitive white flesh of his palm was shredded. The burning pain in his hand subsided and everywhere Batman touched him erupted in flames. He was dying.
A clean white bandage was pressed into his hand and held in place. Batman was trying to look at him, to see through him again but he could not let that happen. He was falling apart inside; he needed to end this now before he killed both of them, he needed-
A strong hand lifted his chin and sharp blue eyes seared into him, straight through him, slowly rooting out all of his secrets.
“No!” He didn’t recognize the scream, but he felt the sandpaper in his throat. He couldn’t look away, could not stop Batman from seeing him, but Batman could not take any more, he broke their gaze. Strong arms wrapped around him, enveloped him. He wanted to melt into him, to be safe here, but he wasn’t! He couldn’t! But he did not struggle as he was engulfed in Batman’s embrace.
“Don’t!” He could see only black, he was surrounded by it, hiding them; the voice was a growl in his ear. “Don’t hurt yourself anymore.”
“W-What?” That shocked him. He wasn’t hurting himself, he was just…existing.
“I…I’m sorry.” The last word was foreign and rough. The hold on him became tighter as if Batman was trying to force them together, it felt like he never wanted to let go. “I should not have kissed you like that. I knew you might take it badly and I still-damn it.”
Batman swore. He would have laughed if he didn’t feel like crying.
“Just don’t do this anymore!” Batman’s growl broke as he crushed the bloodied hand to himself, pressing both of their fists to his bowed head, he could feel Batman’s lips on his skin. “Nothing I do should ever make you do this. Not ever.”
He let himself be held. He was numb. He needed-
“I want to throw some more.” Batman’s grip tightened momentarily but he was released. Batman walked away and he felt the painful thumbing in his heart speed up. There was no escaping this.
Batman was back, his warm hands stretching more clean white gauze around his shredded hand. Batman didn’t speak as he took a pair of thick gauntlets and pulled them into place over the bandage.
He could feel Batman’s eyes on him as he gathered the batarangs from the floor but it did not matter. He threw the first one.
Thud. The chest.
It wasn’t as good. No matter how he held the blade it would never cut through the Kevlar.
Thud. The groin.
No sharp relief. Just the dull throbbing pain. He could remember playing games with the Bat. 'Hit me!’
Thud. The arm.
Explosions of pain. Yes. More.
Thud. The head.
He did not hurt himself. Life hurt him, he just enjoyed it.
Thud. The stomach.
He couldn’t fool himself now. Batman had said sorry. Wedding rings would have been more discreet.
Thud. The heart. The blade missed the other batarang by a breath.
Batman was the only one who had ever stopped life from hurting him. He was the only one who ever cared about something like cuts on his hand. Batman who could not survive knowing who had once been the clown killer of Gotham, could not survive knowing whose ribs he had broken, whose face he had smashed all those times. ‘hit me’
He was out of batarangs, there was no relief in sight and he felt like throwing up. Or hurting something. Either way.
They stood like that, neither knowing what to do. One not knowing where he stood. They might have stayed like that all day if not for the deliberately loud footfalls approaching them.
“It seems you are adept already.” Alfred offered a smile to the Knight as he set down a tray of food. “Batman it seems you will not have to be as protective as you anticipated.” He took a step back, clearly indicating that they should both take the proffered food. Neither moved.
“Come now. You both have a full day ahead of you.” He turned to Bruce, taking in the situation as quickly as he dismissed it in his own way. They stood apart, their eyes were cold and faces drawn, the target littered with batarangs even had a hint of blood splatter on it. The course of true love never did run smoothly.
“This is the first appearance you will make in Gotham in quite some time you must be ready.” He turned to the Knight, Alfred was reminded of the look Bruce so often had as a child, more lost than anything.
“And there is more to the cave than just what you have seen. Not to mention all the files you should read before going out patrolling.”
“Alfred.” Bruce’s voice was subdued and tortured, reminiscent of the days before the Knight had come into his life. “There was been a change of plans. I cannot go out today.” He took a step closer to the
Knight.
The Knight took a breath of relief. The Bat was going out? Yes this is what he needed. Time to plan. Time to clear his head. Time to distance himself from the situation, from the pain the Bat was all too willing to unknowingly inflict.
“No. Go. I will be alright.” The Knight regained his composure, an easy smile slipping into place as he snatched an apple off the platter with his still-gloved hand. “Besides Al will be with me.”
Bruce frowned as he watched the man who infiltrated his life and stole his reason from him flee to the safety of Alfred. Bruce could see green eyes flicker away from him, a plastic smile on his face, he could see the results of his own ineptitude. He couldn’t drag his own eyes from the gloved hands, bleeding within their dark confines. It was like looking into a twisted mirror image, masks and mindless violence, the need to be alone and the pain of every second of knowledge that alone was not how he wanted to live.
The Knight snuck closer to Alfred, hiding in his protective wing. Bruce was almost envious, no one was immune to Alfred’s charm, there was something in his dry English humor, something so intrinsically good in Alfred that it made people feel safe. It was almost as if Alfred could not help but be a mother to all of his lost boys. Bruce almost smiled; somehow he thought Alfred would be less than pleased with the comparison.
While he watched the apple became a toy more than breakfast, deft hands threw and caught it over and over, a show of nonchalance Bruce knew was specially crafted for his eyes. He pretended not to watch as the tosses slowed under Alfred gaze and the apple moved as if of its own accord back to the Knights mouth, breakfast once more. Alfred smiled. Yes, if he had to leave and make his reappearance into the world as Bruce Wayne Alfred would hold his life together while he was away.
Time was escaping him, he had to go get dressed for the day ahead, a meeting in less than an hour and he still had to apply the bruises that the car crash Bruce Wayne had suffered would result in. He took a step forward, deliberate, obvious. The Knight frozen, a moment of panic, of indecision, his mouth frozen in place over the apple, then carried on as if nothing had happened.
Bruce didn’t want to leave him, not for a second, he didn’t want to give him time alone to become the man the Bat had become in his desolate darkness. He wanted to be here, to remind him constantly of another path, the life that could be, especially in this time where no future was certain, but the paths that lay before them lay just around the next turn. He watched the unconscious half step towards Alfred.
Not left alone then. There would always be Alfred.
He wanted that. To be that for the Knight. Be the person who would be in his life without question, constant, as necessary and pertinent as the air they both breathe.
He closed the distance between them, the apple fell to stone floor, forgotten, unnecessary as Bruce held him, enveloped him. The Knight was stone in his arms, muscles turned into steel cables, hardened against him, protecting him, hiding him. Batman would not have that. He captured him in a kiss, devouring him until the ice melted and the stone corroded and the walls of protection fell with a whimper that sounded like a growl.
“Until tonight.” And he was gone, Bruce Wayne once more, alone and incomplete, for now.
Alfred waited to see if he would wander off on his own, explore the vast unknown cave, but he didn’t. He didn’t have the energy, the desire, and maybe he didn’t want to see. All he could think of, all he could see, the only one he could hear, was batman. Batman. Batman. Broken. Dead. In love. Fuck.
He found himself led to the huge computer, scanning through old files, criminals, crimes, cops, Gotham itself. He didn’t read them, just watched as the colors flashed by, his fingers ticked against the keys again and again, repetitive, constant, good.
The tray of breakfast food appeared beside him and then disappeared untouched. The only indicator that the world was going on without him. That somewhere Batman was going on without him. Functioning. Alive. And if only he left now Batman could stay that way.
But he couldn’t very well leave without a word. Batman would follow him and for a moment the thought made his feel…warm…something, before he crushed it, shredded it and banned it from the contents of his dark mind. If Batman stayed with him he would find out his secrets and he would die and The Knight…The Joker…would be all alone. Not separated, not playing cops and robbers in their city playground, forever orphaned, forsaken, and alone.
Lunch came and it too left by silent hands.
Batman had to understand…and he had to understand only what he wanted him to. He could not very well say that it was over. ‘It’s not you it’s me’. For the first time in years he envied the pawns he mocked on the streets. What did they know about suffering or hardship? ‘I can’t break up with my boyfriend!’ How do you break up with The Batman?!
Hurt him.
Fight him. Rip out his heart, show it to him and cast it away. Hurt him to save him. ‘you’re a freak, your broken, warped, demented’ true. But also true about everyone they knew, he needed more. ‘you are not what I need. You are not what I want.’ Not even the Bat could argue with feelings, what did either of them understand about those anyway? ‘I don’t love you.’
‘I cant love you’
“I don’t love you.”
He could do this. He could save them both. But the computer screen disappeared, and a rose filled his vision, red and black and velvet. He could smell the blossom; he wanted to touch it, the silk petals, the deceiving thorns. His chair spun around and there he was, in a dark tuxedo with raven hair, blue eyes blazing from his short masquerade mask.
‘I cant…’
‘I shouldn’t…’
‘I dont-…fuck’
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8