Not Done Yet
folder
zMisplaced Stories [ADMIN use only] › Batman (All Movies)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
21
Views:
7,315
Reviews:
41
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
zMisplaced Stories [ADMIN use only] › Batman (All Movies)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
21
Views:
7,315
Reviews:
41
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
Nolanverse. I do not own Batman, The Dark Knight or Nolanverse. I own none of the characters, I make no money from this story.
Your Little Experiment
Batman. The Joker was dreaming of Batman. The powerful hands, the gruff voice, the glimmering eyes behind the mask…in his dream, he, the Joker, was the pursuer, fluidly bounding from rooftop to rooftop, gliding down fire escapes, easily navigating ledges, high over the incandescent illumination of his city, his Gotham….
He had just cornered the Batman. He had just thrust his long-bladed knife into the Batman’s abdomen, felt the Kevlar give, felt the flesh separate, felt the grating resistance of metal on bone, when the hero disappeared, evaporating like steam from a sidewalk grate into the Gotham night.
The Joker cried out in frustration, looked down at his unmarked hand, his bloodless knife, and suddenly, the desolation of his dream brought him to foggy consciousness in his asylum bed. He raised himself on one elbow and, dazed, looked around his small, dark quarters, coming to the realization that this, this was reality. He felt a sob of despair simmering in his throat, and he angrily punched his right fist into his open left hand, hard enough to hurt, hard enough to divert his emotion…Bruce was coming to see him tomorrow. That was something. Something to look forward to.
Even if his containment in this place had caused him to become a ghost, a shadow of the man he had been, that was ok. That was what Bruce wanted, apparently. So, in a way, it was what Batman wanted. And, Batman was what the Joker wanted. Needed. Dreamed of….
* * *
Bruce Wayne woke up just before noon at Alfred’s insistence—even though he had not returned until almost 6:00 a.m., he couldn’t afford to sleep any later, not with a board meeting at 1:30, followed by a late lunch with Harvey Dent, and then…well. Alfred didn’t know the details of his afternoon plans, but it involved another visit to Arkham to see the Joker. No. To see Jack.
Bruce smiled for a moment before rousing himself out of his warm bed. He wondered if the day would ever come when he could wake up next to Jack…maybe they would be old men by then. He laughed at the thought. The odds of either of them making it to old man status was extremely unlikely…better make the best of “now”, he thought. Better take happiness where you can find it. Even if it’s in an asylum….
It had been almost a year now, and Jack was, physically, at least, on the road to recovery. His eyes looked clear, and he had put on a few healthy pounds, losing the concentration-camp severity of bones jutting out under pale skin. Some of the nervous tics and obsessive-compulsive mannerisms had abated, or even disappeared. And Bruce thought he was feeling better, mentally, too.
Jack now smiled easily and genuinely laughed occasionally, and he usually seemed happy to see his visitor, even though he was still full of complaints. Bruce took them with a grain of salt, but he did stay in close contact with his doctors, and if there appeared to be a legitimate concern, he would talk it over with them.
Bruce visited him two or three times a week, always bringing him books, magazines and newspapers to help him pass the time. He had become such a regular fixture that the nurses turned a blind eye when he stayed past visiting hours or brought Jack unapproved foods, like Chinese take out or tacos. When Bruce visited late, he and Jack would watch the news together, eat, and end up passionately making love on Jack’s narrow hospital bed. Bruce was happy to find that whatever ill effects his medications had once had on Jack’s libido, time had apparently been the cure, and he was definitely an enthusiastic lover once again.
More than he knew, apparently…Bruce gained permission to take Jack outside for a walk on the heavily secured grounds that only the highest-functioning inmates had access to, and only with approval. They strolled around the fenced perimeter, and Bruce was amused to find that Jack was warmly greeted by almost every inmate they met, as well as nurses and orderlies that they passed.
“You seem to have made some friends,” Bruce commented.
“Yeah, I’m pretty popular. It’s amazing how people come around when they don’t think you’re going to eviscerate them…”
“That little redhead certainly was giving you the eye…”
“Annie? Oh, yeah, she’s one of my girlfriends…”
“Really.”
“Sure, I’ve got a bunch. From nurses to inmates, got one on every floor, heh heh. Oh, don’t worry, Brucie, you’re my only boyfriend,” Jack teased with a grin.
“Well, that’s good, I guess. So these girlfriends of yours, what do you…do, together?” Bruce felt like the parent of a kindergartener, trying to figure out how much of his child’s story was true and how much sheer fantasy.
“Oh, you know, we hang out in the day room, watch Oprah, fuck our brains out….”
Bruce looked at him, shocked. Was he serious?
“You’re kidding, right?” he asked, his voice slightly tense.
“Uh…ok, if you say so.” The Joker’s mouth twisted in amusement at Bruce’s obvious jealousy.
“Jack—do you mean to tell me you’re having sex with the women in this place?”
Jack snickered. “Well, hell, yeah, Bruce!! I told you, there’s nothing to do around here but fuck and get blow jobs. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Why? Because, idiot, you’re cheating on me, that’s why…”
“Cheating on you? Oh, come on! How am I cheating on you??”
Bruce now felt like the parent of a teenager, trying to figure out how to explain why it was worse for the kid to smoke pot than it was for the parent to drink booze.
“Jack. We are in a relationship…if you have sex with other people, that’s called ‘cheating’.” Bruce tried to be patient. It was hard to believe the blonde-haired young man standing in front of him could be so dense, but he genuinely seemed bewildered.
“Look, Bruce…I don’t know what you’re talking about. What ‘relationship’ are you referring to?” Jack asked hesitantly.
Bruce was about to lose his temper.
“How about the fact that I’ve risked my reputation to make sure you received the best possible care in this place? That I’ve gone out of my way to help you? That I’ve come to see you at every possible opportunity? That I do these things because…I care about you? Wouldn’t you call that being in a relationship?” he asked bitterly.
“Oooh, I see. Hmm. Well, to be honest, Bruce, I thought I was kind of…your special little hobby. An…experiment. You know, the billionaire wants to see how much of his time and money it would take to turn a nutcase like me into a good little boy.” Jack’s eyes narrowed in anger.
“Or…maybe it’s that you just like having your psycho freak-whore contained where you can get at him any time you want. You know, when you feel like slumming. Sticking your dick into something a little more exotic than your society bitches. I certainly didn’t think my getting a little recreational pussy would cause you any harm.” Jack glared at Bruce resentfully and walked on ahead.
Jack’s words stung. The fact that he hadn’t touched another person—male or female—since he became involved with Jack made him feel a bit self-righteous, but of course, Jack was reading the papers—he would see the obligatory society page photos of Bruce out on the town every week with a beautiful lady on his arm. He sighed heavily.
“Jack…stop. Please, let’s go back to your room and talk about this.” Bruce caught up to Jack and gently clasped his arm.
Jack turned, his expression grim.
“You can’t control me, Bruce. I told you long ago, I do what I want. Maybe I’m locked up in the loony bin, but I still do what I want. If you don’t like it, let me go. Fuck off. If you take your money and blow me off, I’ll be back in the basement in no time. And then, I’ll be dead. And we’ll both have gotten what we wanted. Eventually.”
Bruce felt a chill of apprehension. Was the Joker serious? Or was he merely using emotional blackmail to get his way?
“Jack…listen to me. I don’t want to go away, and I don’t want anything to happen to you. Don’t you have any feelings for me? Has everything that’s happened between us meant nothing at all? I need to know, Jack. You’re not an experiment, and you’re not a…whore. I never thought that. You’re important to me, because I care for you. Don’t you know I wish we could be together all the time? But we can’t. So, I do the best I can. I thought…I thought you knew that.”
Jack bit his lower lip and stared gravely at Bruce. He was quiet for a long moment, then he sighed.
“You know I care about you,” Jack stated begrudgingly. “I’m only here because of you. But you never tell me anything. I don’t know what you want from me, other than sex. That’s about all I have to offer you, ya know. It’s not like I can…fix dinner for you. Drop off your dry cleaning. Go to a movie with you. Honestly, Bruce…what the hell do you get out of this arrangement?” The Joker fixed Bruce with an expression of sincere curiosity.
Bruce shifted uncomfortably. It was a question that was constantly in the back of his mind, one which he rarely allowed to come forward. Finally, he answered.
“I get…to be with you. And, that’s enough.”
The two men stared at each other. After a long pause, Jack smiled slowly, uncertainly. He motioned toward the residence wing, and he and Bruce started walking back to Jack’s room. It was time for the news.
* * *
He had just cornered the Batman. He had just thrust his long-bladed knife into the Batman’s abdomen, felt the Kevlar give, felt the flesh separate, felt the grating resistance of metal on bone, when the hero disappeared, evaporating like steam from a sidewalk grate into the Gotham night.
The Joker cried out in frustration, looked down at his unmarked hand, his bloodless knife, and suddenly, the desolation of his dream brought him to foggy consciousness in his asylum bed. He raised himself on one elbow and, dazed, looked around his small, dark quarters, coming to the realization that this, this was reality. He felt a sob of despair simmering in his throat, and he angrily punched his right fist into his open left hand, hard enough to hurt, hard enough to divert his emotion…Bruce was coming to see him tomorrow. That was something. Something to look forward to.
Even if his containment in this place had caused him to become a ghost, a shadow of the man he had been, that was ok. That was what Bruce wanted, apparently. So, in a way, it was what Batman wanted. And, Batman was what the Joker wanted. Needed. Dreamed of….
* * *
Bruce Wayne woke up just before noon at Alfred’s insistence—even though he had not returned until almost 6:00 a.m., he couldn’t afford to sleep any later, not with a board meeting at 1:30, followed by a late lunch with Harvey Dent, and then…well. Alfred didn’t know the details of his afternoon plans, but it involved another visit to Arkham to see the Joker. No. To see Jack.
Bruce smiled for a moment before rousing himself out of his warm bed. He wondered if the day would ever come when he could wake up next to Jack…maybe they would be old men by then. He laughed at the thought. The odds of either of them making it to old man status was extremely unlikely…better make the best of “now”, he thought. Better take happiness where you can find it. Even if it’s in an asylum….
It had been almost a year now, and Jack was, physically, at least, on the road to recovery. His eyes looked clear, and he had put on a few healthy pounds, losing the concentration-camp severity of bones jutting out under pale skin. Some of the nervous tics and obsessive-compulsive mannerisms had abated, or even disappeared. And Bruce thought he was feeling better, mentally, too.
Jack now smiled easily and genuinely laughed occasionally, and he usually seemed happy to see his visitor, even though he was still full of complaints. Bruce took them with a grain of salt, but he did stay in close contact with his doctors, and if there appeared to be a legitimate concern, he would talk it over with them.
Bruce visited him two or three times a week, always bringing him books, magazines and newspapers to help him pass the time. He had become such a regular fixture that the nurses turned a blind eye when he stayed past visiting hours or brought Jack unapproved foods, like Chinese take out or tacos. When Bruce visited late, he and Jack would watch the news together, eat, and end up passionately making love on Jack’s narrow hospital bed. Bruce was happy to find that whatever ill effects his medications had once had on Jack’s libido, time had apparently been the cure, and he was definitely an enthusiastic lover once again.
More than he knew, apparently…Bruce gained permission to take Jack outside for a walk on the heavily secured grounds that only the highest-functioning inmates had access to, and only with approval. They strolled around the fenced perimeter, and Bruce was amused to find that Jack was warmly greeted by almost every inmate they met, as well as nurses and orderlies that they passed.
“You seem to have made some friends,” Bruce commented.
“Yeah, I’m pretty popular. It’s amazing how people come around when they don’t think you’re going to eviscerate them…”
“That little redhead certainly was giving you the eye…”
“Annie? Oh, yeah, she’s one of my girlfriends…”
“Really.”
“Sure, I’ve got a bunch. From nurses to inmates, got one on every floor, heh heh. Oh, don’t worry, Brucie, you’re my only boyfriend,” Jack teased with a grin.
“Well, that’s good, I guess. So these girlfriends of yours, what do you…do, together?” Bruce felt like the parent of a kindergartener, trying to figure out how much of his child’s story was true and how much sheer fantasy.
“Oh, you know, we hang out in the day room, watch Oprah, fuck our brains out….”
Bruce looked at him, shocked. Was he serious?
“You’re kidding, right?” he asked, his voice slightly tense.
“Uh…ok, if you say so.” The Joker’s mouth twisted in amusement at Bruce’s obvious jealousy.
“Jack—do you mean to tell me you’re having sex with the women in this place?”
Jack snickered. “Well, hell, yeah, Bruce!! I told you, there’s nothing to do around here but fuck and get blow jobs. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Why? Because, idiot, you’re cheating on me, that’s why…”
“Cheating on you? Oh, come on! How am I cheating on you??”
Bruce now felt like the parent of a teenager, trying to figure out how to explain why it was worse for the kid to smoke pot than it was for the parent to drink booze.
“Jack. We are in a relationship…if you have sex with other people, that’s called ‘cheating’.” Bruce tried to be patient. It was hard to believe the blonde-haired young man standing in front of him could be so dense, but he genuinely seemed bewildered.
“Look, Bruce…I don’t know what you’re talking about. What ‘relationship’ are you referring to?” Jack asked hesitantly.
Bruce was about to lose his temper.
“How about the fact that I’ve risked my reputation to make sure you received the best possible care in this place? That I’ve gone out of my way to help you? That I’ve come to see you at every possible opportunity? That I do these things because…I care about you? Wouldn’t you call that being in a relationship?” he asked bitterly.
“Oooh, I see. Hmm. Well, to be honest, Bruce, I thought I was kind of…your special little hobby. An…experiment. You know, the billionaire wants to see how much of his time and money it would take to turn a nutcase like me into a good little boy.” Jack’s eyes narrowed in anger.
“Or…maybe it’s that you just like having your psycho freak-whore contained where you can get at him any time you want. You know, when you feel like slumming. Sticking your dick into something a little more exotic than your society bitches. I certainly didn’t think my getting a little recreational pussy would cause you any harm.” Jack glared at Bruce resentfully and walked on ahead.
Jack’s words stung. The fact that he hadn’t touched another person—male or female—since he became involved with Jack made him feel a bit self-righteous, but of course, Jack was reading the papers—he would see the obligatory society page photos of Bruce out on the town every week with a beautiful lady on his arm. He sighed heavily.
“Jack…stop. Please, let’s go back to your room and talk about this.” Bruce caught up to Jack and gently clasped his arm.
Jack turned, his expression grim.
“You can’t control me, Bruce. I told you long ago, I do what I want. Maybe I’m locked up in the loony bin, but I still do what I want. If you don’t like it, let me go. Fuck off. If you take your money and blow me off, I’ll be back in the basement in no time. And then, I’ll be dead. And we’ll both have gotten what we wanted. Eventually.”
Bruce felt a chill of apprehension. Was the Joker serious? Or was he merely using emotional blackmail to get his way?
“Jack…listen to me. I don’t want to go away, and I don’t want anything to happen to you. Don’t you have any feelings for me? Has everything that’s happened between us meant nothing at all? I need to know, Jack. You’re not an experiment, and you’re not a…whore. I never thought that. You’re important to me, because I care for you. Don’t you know I wish we could be together all the time? But we can’t. So, I do the best I can. I thought…I thought you knew that.”
Jack bit his lower lip and stared gravely at Bruce. He was quiet for a long moment, then he sighed.
“You know I care about you,” Jack stated begrudgingly. “I’m only here because of you. But you never tell me anything. I don’t know what you want from me, other than sex. That’s about all I have to offer you, ya know. It’s not like I can…fix dinner for you. Drop off your dry cleaning. Go to a movie with you. Honestly, Bruce…what the hell do you get out of this arrangement?” The Joker fixed Bruce with an expression of sincere curiosity.
Bruce shifted uncomfortably. It was a question that was constantly in the back of his mind, one which he rarely allowed to come forward. Finally, he answered.
“I get…to be with you. And, that’s enough.”
The two men stared at each other. After a long pause, Jack smiled slowly, uncertainly. He motioned toward the residence wing, and he and Bruce started walking back to Jack’s room. It was time for the news.
* * *