Title: The Game We Play, Chapter 13 - Therapy

Author: Co-written by Jay Narra & Liana Kerzner

Rating: G

Pairing: Batman/Joker

Fandom: Think "The Killing Joke," & "Arkham Asylum." Mildly BTAS. Some point after the comic "Death In The Family."

Feedback: Definitely! Appreciated! raytheoncentaur3@yahoo.com

Archive: Yes, certainly! Just let me know it's there!

Disclaimer: Batman & Joker are (c) DC! Not mine!

Summary: Batman uncovers a few truths about what Arkham is really like on the inside.


The Game We Play, Chapter 13 - Therapy
Co-written by Jay Narra & Liana Kerzner


When Bruce awoke the next evening, he checked the clock three times to make sure it was accurate. Yes, evening. He'd slept almost sixteen hours. It was almost eight o' clock. He never slept that long. . . then he remembered that he'd been playing three days of catch up. His next thought was immediately of the Joker. He'd been left down in the cave all day by himself.

He raced downstairs wearing nothing but a loosely tied robe, babbled something about food at Alfred that he himself didn't understand, and headed down to the cave, keeping to the plentiful shadows until he could get the cape and cowl on.

As soon as the Joker had regained consciousness that afternoon, he'd crawled out of bed and started a thorough examination of the Batcave. And even though the process was a slow one, he'd inspected the computer, the ledges and a few more unimportant places. He was intrigued by the place Batman spent his waking hours at, and wanted to know all that he could scavage on his own.

But Joker couldn't stand the wait. He had sat around patiently at first... and then increasingly more impatient, he rose from his bed to seek entertainment.

And entertainment he found...

Sitting in the Batmobile was a fragile and barely dressed Clown Prince, holding the steering wheel in his thin white hands. "Vroom!" he growled, reaching up to pull the swiped cowl further down his face. "Stupid thing.. how DOES Batsy keep it on?"

Batman watched from the shadows, finding it difficult not to laugh. Maybe it was the discussion from the night before, or perhaps it was the fact that he'd actually slept, but he found the Joker, for the first time, actually funny. Ridiculous, but funny. He wasn't even all that angry that the Joker was wearing his cowl.

He slipped into the area where he kept his old suit, trying not to laugh out loud at the Joker's escapades in the Batmobile, or the "Vroom" noise that accompanied it. He slid into the old grey
batsuit silently, keeping one eye on the Joker the whole time.

When he was done, he engaged the Batmobile's remote starter.

The car's engine roared to life.

The Joker made a sort of horrified screeching noise and pulled his hands away from the steering wheel. "What in the world?!" He backed up into the seat and glanced around, wide-eyed with
bewilderment. "Batman!" he accused, finally catching sight of him.

Beneath the cowl, Batman's eyes danced and his mouth was tilted into a lopsided smirk. He killed the Batmobile's engine via remote.

"I thought we were retiring that routine." He said lightly.

Joker couldn't help but giggle in response. He reached to pull himself out of the Batmobile, but found himself having a fairly difficult time... and gave up. "You provoked me," he insisted
gleefully.

"You're in my car." Batman pointed out as he started toward the vehicle. "And you're borrowing my clothes."

"You weren't using them," Joker answered. "And they look good on me!" He grinned and pulled off the swiped cowl, setting it in the seat beside him. As he watched the Bat approach, he tightened the tie around his waist, prepared for being picked up again. It was starting to feel normal.

"Well, that's a matter of opinion." Batman said. "Come on, out."

He gestured with his head for the Joker to get out of the car.

"I can't," Joker whined. "Help me?" He smiled sweetly and leaned against the car door, batting his eyes a few times.

"Joker." Batman said firmly, sounding a bit annoyed. "That's not funny."

The playful look on Joker's face darkened a little... and his expression became serious. "All right. Suppose it isn't. But it doesn't change that I can't get out of here on my own. It took me nearly ten minutes to get in." He folded his arms over his chest and waited.

Batman noticed then that the Joker's face and neck were coated in a thin sheen off sweat, and his hair was a bit damp.

"Don't do that again." He ordered, reaching down and picking the Joker up under his arms. He set him on his feet and added, "Please?"

"Ok," Joker answered lowly. "Maybe. I suppose." He frowned and then headed off toward his bed, shivering against the cold of the Batcave. "Don't you have a heater downstairs...? I'm assuming this is a downstairs since I see you leaving upward."

"I can bring one down. Are you cold?" The eye slits of the cowl narrowed with concern.

Joker nodded a little bit and sat down on his mattress. "Yeah, I am. It was cold all day."

"I'm sorry." Batman said with a hint of guilt in his voice. He turned to head back upstairs.

"Wait... you're coming back, aren't you?" Joker stared after Batman accusingly, having settled down onto the bed by now.

"With the blanket." Batman said, then melted into the shadows.

"Ooooh, goodie!" Joker called after him. "I can't wait!" He giggled and hit his heels together a few times... and then frowned and laid down on the bed - very quickly. "Ugh... that doesn't make me feel any better."

Batman forced himself to ignore the Joker's unintentional parting shot and hurried to fetch the blanket. He wondered fleetingly at how Alfred did this kind of thing all the time -- it took a specific type of patience he didn't possess. When he closed the door to the first floor linen closet after throwing its contents everywhere in a futile attempt to scrounge up a blanket, he closed the door to reveal his butler, looking perturbed and holding a blanket.

"Thanks." Batman said sheepishly, taking the blanket. He glanced at the now disarrayed cupboard sheepishly. "Sorry."

He was starting to get good at that word.

He returned to the cave hastily.

When he was out of sight, Alfred started chuckling. Shaking his head, the old butler set about straightening up the closet.

The moment Batman appeared at the top of the stairs, Joker waved at him. "Hi!" he greeted. "What took you so long? Had to hand-wash it?" Another string of giggles followed immediately after.

"Took a while to find it." The Dark Knight replied flatly, then started down the stairs.

"Are you going to cuddle up under it with me?" Joker taunted playfully. He wiped at the sweat on his forehead and sat up in bed. "And how's about something to eat a little while later, eh? You left me down here without anything all day... remember?"

*Working the guilt,* Bruce thought. *Nice. This is why you pretend not to have feelings.*

"Of course." He said. "Any preferences?"

"Peanut butter," Joker answered simply. He picked up the corner of his sheet and ran it over his face once. "And... hmmm... Salt and Vinegar chips. And maybe a dash of ice cream?"

"Not together." Batman stated, hoping that the Joker hadn't meant all at once. He pushed the frail man's hands down slowly to stop him from using the sheet as a sweat band.

"Why not?" Joker pouted and snatched the sheet back up into his hands. "I think it tastes exquisite! And have you ever even TRIED it? Don't judge a book by it's cover, Bats." He gathered up more of the sheet into his lap - for the sole purpose of irratating the other man.

"Do what you want." Batman muttered, looking the Joker over. He was now more concerned by the Joker's physical state than what he wanted to eat. "I'm getting you a change of clothes, and you should clean yourself up: sweat isn't good for already infected wounds."

"Clean myself up?" Joker asked. He snickered and shook his head a few times. "Nevermind. I won't make you angry. I just won't say anything." He closed his mouth and held both hands out for the blanket.

Batman tossed the blanket at him and hit the Joker in the face with it. He allowed himself a momentary smile.

Joker pulled the blanket down and glared with a hint of gentle humor to it. He wrapped it around himself and then settled into the bed, pulling his legs up to fold them neatly. "You sure you aren't cold, too?" he asked softly. "Must be chilling running around in that silly costume."

"Actually, quite the opposite." Batman answered, grabbing the cape and holding it up. "Thermal."

"So take it off." More giggling. "You know you want to."

"You just said it's cold in here. I think I'll leave it on."

There was a long pause where the look on Joker's face said he was arguing with himself mentally. He pursed his lips to say something, paused... stayed silent a little longer, and then decided on speaking. "I'll keep you warm." He grinned darkly and opened one side of the blanket.

Batman sighed. "Why do you have to keep going back there?" He complained.

"I don't HAVE to," Joker immediately stated. "But I like doing it. So I do." He patted the bed. "C'mon... don't be such a bay-bay. Sit down for a while. You stand entirely too much."

"Fine." Batman said, then sat on the bed by Joker. He was obviously getting annoyed.

"Good little rodent," Joker purred. He grinned and offered the blanket yet again. "It's warm under here... Or are you going to be all Mister Big-An'-Tough, tonight?"

Batman looked up at the ceiling. "You're not making this easy."

Without so much as a second thought on the matter, Joker leaned against Batman and sighed. He closed his eyes and pulled the blanket up around his chin. "This is so much nicer... it being just us for once, I mean. Without the sparrow or whatever around."

Batman stiffened. He couldn't help but be reminded that the Joker had killed the previous Robin.

"Let's not talk about that." He said. *Or I might remember that I hate you.* He thought.

"'Kay. That's fine with me! So what DO you want to talk about?" Joker tilted his head to look up at Batman, giggled and then fell over backward onto the bed.

Batman sighed and lowered his head thoughtfully. After a moment, he spoke.

"Us, I suppose." He said, using that phrase to deliberately pique the Joker's interest. "Where things go from here."

"Why, no place, of course!" Joker shot back. His words were meant to sting... to harm. "Green-haired clown equals dead green-haired clown in a few days... 'member?"

But then suddenly he sat upright and grabbed Batman's arm. "No, no... I didn't mean that. I - crud. That isn't what I meant to say. Honestly. Sorry." He winced and hoped the Bat wouldn't hit him for his brash mistake. "It's just... that it's been on my mind, is all."

Batman nodded almost imperceptably.

"I know the feeling." He said. "I've had too many people die. . ."

He swallowed hard, unable to continue. He was so divided inside he felt like he was going to shatter into a thousand pieces. Unable to handle his feelings, he forced his emotions into hiding and looked for something to engage and distract his brain. He found it looking down at the Joker.

"You need to get cleaned up." He said.

"No, I don't," Joker argued, pulling himself further onto the bed. "I'm perfectly fine the way I am."

"Joker." Batman said sternly. He stood up, found some waterproof tape and some gauze, and returned to the bed, intent on waterproofing the Joker's wounds.

Joker's grin faded slowly, turning into a defeated pout. "Fine," he grumbled.

Batman started tearing off strips of tape, then realized he should disinfect the areas before dressing them. He quickly swooped over and grabbed some alcohol and cotton balls, then returned to the Joker. He soaked a cotton ball with alcohol and started to swab a wound on the Joker's arm.

"Ow!" Joker whined. "Gawd! Don't be so eager to cause me pain!" He tugged his arm, trying to pull it out of Batman's grasp.

Batman paused just long enough to give him one of Those looks, then went back to tending to the stitches.

"Jerk." After that, Joker waited patiently while Batman continued. His resistances were getting less and less a problem... as he was giving in so easily.

Batman finished disinfecting the gash on the Joker's arm, then laid a patch of gauze over it. He covered that with waterproof tape.

"You can shower without effecting the stitches this way." He explained matter-of-factly.

"Hmph," Joker answered. "I s'pose." He inspected the gauze immediately afterward, pulling at it in a few different places. "It feels weird," he complained.

"It's better than the alternative." Batman responded with a hint of a smirk. He turned over the Joker's arm to expose his wrist and saw a trail of burn marks on the white skin of his pale forearm.

The smirk vanished. "What are these?" He asked sharply.

Joker leaned forward to inspect the burn marks, placing his free hand over his chin thoughtfully. "Those... Hmmmm..." He poked at them a bit and then exclaimed, "Oh yes! I remember, now! I do believe that was when the doctors felt I was being dangerous. Y'know... the last time you threw me into Arkham. They have these ghastly ways of determining when I'm being dangerous. Anyway, those are what was left behind when they used electroshock 'therapy' on me."

"I didn't think they used those techniques anymore." Batman said, obviously containing a violent flash of anger.

"Oh, all the time!" Joker raised both arms into the air, having wriggled out of Batman's grasp. "I'm their favorite patient because they can shock me all they like and not get into trouble for it!" He pulled the robe up his legs to show a particularly nasty place on his thigh. "Check this sucker out. For drawing on the walls! Would you believe it?!" He shook his head and chuckled a little... but then grew serious. "Kinda hurt."

Batman leaned in to inspect the scar on the Joker's leg. He ran two fingers over it and a feral growl escaped his throat. It seemed he had a new enemy.

Joker smirked. "That tickles. So does... er, nevermind. You're angry enough as it is. I won't get into it." He frowned and picked at the gauze on his arm, thinking about what he'd been GOING to say.

"They're not going to get away with this." The Dark Knight vowed. Reluctantly, he went back to dressing the Joker's wounds, but his eyes kept wandering back to those burns on the chalky white skin.

Joker smiled contently and allowed his 'friend' access to his injuries. "Good. They deserve it... what with the way I'm treated there. Really, Batsy... hadn't you noticed the way they deal with us
in there? I get beatings almost every night. You don't think the ONLY reason I break out is to get to you, do you? A man wants to keep his pride, y'know. And I'm not the only one in there that gets that kinda 'help'. You should've SEEN what they did to Double Ugly last time he came in!"

*Harvey,* Bruce though, his heart breaking at the thought of his former friend being tortured.

"What did they do?" Batman asked in a deep monotone.

"Just a game," Joker answered. "The rules are simple. Whichever guard can cause the most damage in a single blow gets whatever money was pitched in." He smirked. "I've only had to participate in that one a few times, thankfully. But then... oh, sometimes they'll egg him on, y'know...? Give him nickles an' stuff... make him answer complicated questions and then confuse him an' stuff. It WOULD be funny... 'cept I hate those guards. And they like those cattle prods
they carry around. Really nasty stuff, Bats. You being a sadist? You'd LOVE it in there. Mmmmm... or maybe not. I dunno. You like that whole dark freedom rooftop thing, right? Nah. You'd hate it, then. Oh, and you know how we're supposed to get a half an hour outside each day? Ha! Forget it! We stay in our cells twenty-four TEN!" Rambling was something Joker was good at... especially if it meant gaining attention.

"Twenty-four seven." Batman corrected, not knowing what else to say. He was disgusted by what the Joker was telling him, and had determined he had to find out for himself. A plan was starting to form as he taped up the last wound he could see.

"Okay." He said. "You're set."

"Seven. Right." Joker glanced from the gauze up to Batman... and asked, "Set? What am I set for?"

"You need to take a shower, or a bath. Whichever," Batman reminded him.

"Oh, yes... that's right. I want a bath, then." Joker nodded once and the struggled up to his feet.

Batman sighed. He was afraid he was going to say that. There wasn't a bathtub in the batcave. This was going to require taking him upstairs.

"I'm going to have to blindfold you." He told the Joker.

The clown shrugged. "Could be worse."

*
END