For Laughs - Batman/Criminal Minds - Chapter 12 - 13/17
Title: For Laughs
Fandom: Batman (Nolan universe, mostly)/Criminal Minds
Links: Prologue + Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6 + Chapter 7 + Chapter 8 + Chapter 9 + Chapter 10 + Chapter 11
Rating: T (overall), but ventures into M
Warnings: Joker-level violence, serial killer activities
Summary: If the BAU wants to catch the Joker, they'll need to profile the Batman. But will all of the team survive to close the case? Gen fic.
Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or any related characters in the franchise, nor do I own the television show Criminal Minds. Written for fun and sick kicks, not profit.
Chapter 12
Not a Hero
She was his solace, his guiding light. He never ignored her. Ever. And, yet, as his phone buzzed against his palm, Agent Morgan couldn't bring himself to answer it.
Hotch was glancing from the street to Morgan as he drove, a worried expression on his hard face. The unit chief didn't comment, though, and neither did Gideon and Prentiss. In fact, the backseat was entirely too quiet.
Garcia flashed across the small screen in bold letters. Morgan turned off the phone. Pocketing it. If it was news on the case, she'd call Hotch to update.
Penelope knew the team's status, that Morgan was alive, unharmed. Hotch had called her, asked her to find surveillance footage of the area outside the GCPD precinct. Look for J.J. It had been a teary exchange, but Hotch had raised his voice, asked for her to concentrate on finding their missing agent.
And to forget about Reid. For just the moment.
Morgan closed his eyes, hoping he could push back the darkness filling his mind. But it didn't work that way. When he opened his eyes again, the world was still gray and wrong.
He would call Garcia back. As soon as there was something to report. Something that wouldn't send her crashing. As soon as he could tell her that her best friend wasn't dead.
Death didn't wear body armor.
Zsasz slid his blade another quarter-inch before Batman reached him, pulling the serial killer off of the FBI agent with a force that sent him flying into the wall. Zsasz looked up, shock and rage forming on his face. Batman didn't have time for it. Didn't have time for the fight, or the cruel taunts. Didn't have time for the psychotic spiel Zsasz was just dying to unleash.
Batman's glove was hard. Two strides forward and it was pounding into Victor's temple. Two firm hits, and the serial killer collapsed to the floor, blood trickling across his cheek. Batman tugged at his utility belt, pulling out a pair of black cuffs. Zsasz was secured to the bed frame in seconds that seemed to pass like hours.
A part of Batman didn't want to turn. Didn't want to see the body tied to the chair, to know that thirty seconds earlier, thirty seconds of hesitation was all that had stood between saving a life and watching a young woman die. But his wants didn't matter. The Batman did what was needed of him.
J.J. watched him, her eyes unfocused, her body going into shock at the trauma to her neck. Her dim blue gaze set him back into motion. The crusader cupped her wound below her jaw with a tight grip, his free hand cutting loose the twine holding her down.
"Agent Jareau," Batman hissed.
Her eyes rolled back into her head. A trail of crimson soaked through the front of her white buttton-up, and continued its route down to her stomach. The vigilante shook her free, and picked her up, holding her limp body against his chest plate.
"Hold on," he growled. His fingertips tightened against the shallow cut, pinching at the flesh. "Can you hear me, Agent Jareau? I need you to hold on for your team."
J.J. didn't respond.
The Joker didn't turn from Reid, but he raised a hand, waving it back. "Boys," he said. The two lackeys stood up, straight, alert. "Take a walk." The hired hands stared at one another, shrugging, but didn't move. The Joker's nostrils flared. "I said, take a walk!" he snapped, spittle flying over the agent.
The two men flew from the factory floor, out a side, worker's exit.
Reid watched the man, his breathing heavy from the sudden shout. Spencer wasn't sure if he should take the criminal's frustration as a good sign just yet.
The Joker ran his thumb along his own bottom lip, following it up his cheek. The thought finished, he slammed his hands on the aluminum work tray against the belt. Reid jumped at the sound, or tried to. The belts bit into his skin, leaving his finger tips prickling with numbness.
"Why," Reid forced himself to breath, "why did you leave the cards in our hotel rooms? I know it's not because you were angry that my team had arrived. You wanted us here. In Gotham."
He already knew the answer, but Reid also knew that the Joker would enjoy explaining.
The Joker pulled over a stool, plopping down beside the assembly line. Reid pressed his cheek against the cool conveyer belt to keep eye contact.
"Did I?"
Reid nodded. "It's why you committed the murders in Rhode Island." He paused, gauging a reaction. "It's why you came back to Gotham afterward. You wanted us here. I know that much, but I don't know why you left the cards."
"For laughs," the Joker said, chuckling. The sound became slightly manic but cut off sharply. He leaned forward, arms outstretched in front of him so that he could pinch Reid's bruised chin between index and thumb. "To keep you busy."
"Is that why you hired Zsasz, too?" Reid asked.
The Joker blinked, surprised, and released his grip on Reid, tweaking the younger man's nose playfully, before sliding his arms beneath his chin, propping himself up. "Ah, Mr. Zsasz," he smirked, "he introduces a little color to the city, doesn't he? All that slicing and posing. Good stuff. Just the right amount of chaos."
"You had those people killed to distract us. You murdered them as a diversion?" Reid's brow wrinkled in confusion. "If you wanted us here in the first place, why would you want us distracted from our jobs?"
"Don't forget the hotel-- blew part if it up, too." The Joker smiled, chiding the agent with a pointing finger. "And not to, umm, distract you, Dr. Reid, but the rest of your team. Need them busy as bees chasing their stingers." His expression darkened. "Because if they're, ah, busy chasing serial killers and cleaning up your ashes, not one of them is going to take the time to realize where you really are. You know what that means, Dr. Reid? We've all the time in the world." The Joker's gaze darkened, his voice low, a growl of loathing, "Ain't it grand?"
The hospital seemed quieter than it should have been, its white hallways paced by nurses who worked like shoemaker elves, the whispers of visitors hushed. All the little sounds, of machinery, of buzzing phones, of complaints, all came together as a constant, low hum.
Morgan leaned over the waiting room chair, his elbows propped on his knees, staring a hole into the tile flooring. Whether through instinct or because his ears picked up the sharp note in Hotch's distant voice, he jerked to his feet, taking long strides down the hall. Hotch was turning away from a surgeon, nodding in thought. He met Morgan halfway, his face unreadable.
"Hotch," Morgan breathed, "is J.J…"
Hotch wiped the sleep from his eyes. "The doctors say she's stable at the moment. A few more minutes and the blood loss would have," the sentence ended there. Hotch didn't need to reinforce the what ifs floating through his teammate's mind.
Morgan swept his fingers over his mouth, stilling the sigh of relief at his lips. His dark eyes darted up, though, a different man there, one who had been waiting just beneath the worry.
"What about Zsasz?" he said.
Hotch shook his head once. "Still no word on where he is…"
"But we still think he did this to J.J.?" Morgan's jaw tightened. "We're just going to go with Batman's word on this?"
"Of course not," Hotch replied. He gestured for the other man to follow him into the empty waiting room, out of earshot. "We're going with what we know, though. The Batman was last seen tracking Zsasz, by you no less, Morgan. Batman brought J.J. to the hospital, carried her in himself. Her injuries are consistent with Victor Zsasz's victims."
"But we don't know for sure, do we?" Morgan turned around, thought about punching the door, and managed to push down the violent urge. "Hotch, we've see vigilantes do awful things for the sake of their own form of justice. Batman's unstable. For all we know, Batman could have hurt her himself, made it look like Zsasz's work, just to play out his own fantasies. How the hell did he get out of this hospital without a cop on his ass?"
Hotch's brow lowered in frustration. "Because they were too busy worrying about J.J. bleeding to death to catch him, Derek. That's how!"
"Batman didn't do it."
Morgan hadn't noticed the door opening. Gordon stood there, behind him were Gideon and Prentiss. The three of them had been outside, coordinating a team for the Arkham situation. Morgan hadn't realized they'd reentered the building. Morgan's eyes swept over them, and he noticed that his teammates were watching the commissioner with careful study.
Gordon took a step inside, closer to Hotch and Morgan, looking from one to the other. "Batman," he restated, "didn't hurt your agent. He was trying to save her damned life, for God's sake."
The declaration seemed to seep the strength from him. Gordon took a long breath.
Morgan shook his head in disbelief, but Hotch stopped him from replying. "We can't rule it out at the moment," Hotch said. He shot Morgan a sharp look. "We do know that Batman didn't kidnap J.J., though. While I was speaking to the doctors, Garcia sent me footage from outside the PD. It identified her assailant as Victor Zsasz."
Gordon pushed past the agents, letting the door close behind. "I know the Batman's behavior. Better than you, believe it or not, and don't you pull that profiling card with me, Derek." His voice lowered. "Just this once, just this once can't you trust me? Have I ever given you a reason not to? Zsasz is responsible for what happened, not the Batman. Leave it at that."
"Jim, I just don't get you," Morgan replied, clearly shocked. "We're talking about a man in a mask who threatened your family. Who killed the city's DA in front of your two children. How can you be so sure that Batman wouldn't hurt Agent Jareau?"
"This has gone on too long," Gordon whispered, wincing at the impact of the words. He looked up, his glasses smudged with sweat. "Derek," he said, louder, "I'm not going to have this discussion with you. Not now. Not ever. My city has bigger problems than your vendetta against the Batman. Chase him all you like, but I'm going after Zsasz and the Joker. They're the villain in this piece."
Morgan cocked his head, confused by the commissioner's outburst, but it was Gideon who stepped into Gordon's path, stopping him from exiting the room.
"Batman didn't kill those people, did he, Commissioner Gordon?" Gideon asked. His face wore a mask of tolerance, soft, trusting, looking for the truth in Jim's reaction. Jim's mouth opened at a gape, but he closed it quickly, trying to gather an answer. Gideon didn't wait for him. "None of the evidence," he continued, his voice nearly at a whisper, "none of it actually pointed to Batman. No eye witnesses at the murders, no security footage. Your son never gave a statement. I thought that was odd, too, but I suppose it was hard making a child lie about his hero."
Gordon swallowed, his shoulders slumping in defeat.
Morgan blinked. "Where you going with this, Gideon?" he asked, surprising himself with his own defensiveness of the commissioner.
Gideon didn't acknowledge the other agent, his focus entirely on the man in front of him. "Harvey Dent killed those people, didn't he?"
Gordon closed his eyes, releasing a pent up breath. "Batman," he managed, "has never denied the charges. He's never attempted to vocalize his innocence."
"That's not much evidence of guilt." Gideon smiled sadly, nodding to himself. "Batman kept quiet for you."
Jim licked his lips and quickly denied the statement. "No," he said. He raised his eyes, looking away from the agent, to the wide-eyed Morgan beside him. "Batman didn't do it for me. He did it for all of us. For the sake of Gotham's soul. The city didn't need their true hero remembered as a disfigured murderer, so Batman took the blame for Dent's crimes."
Morgan shook his head in disbelief.
"It was wrong," Gordon agreed, "but you understand now, don't you, Derek. Batman wouldn't harm your friend. Batman may not be a hero in your eyes, but he saved my family. He saved my little boy's life. Like I said, Batman's not the villain."
READ CHAPTER 13