Rapture and Riddles

Chapter One

A/N Well hello again! Here is the sequel to "Catch and Release," as promised. I already have quite a bit planned out for this fic. There won't be as much Joker and Harley, but they will be there. A new member or two of the Rogue's Gallery will be here to play this time. Any guesses on who it may be? :)

This one starts off full of angst and perhaps some anger, but what would Batman be without his moodiness?

Also, if anyone has unanswered plot questions from "Catch and Released" that I somehow missed, please do bring them up and I'll tie them up here! I did try to remember everything, but I could have missed something.

Enjoy!

Three months later

"No." Arms crossed petulantly. "I refuse to wear some hand-me-down from the oh-so-generous Bruce Wayne."

Bruce sighed. "Just one night. Unless you have a better suit?"

"You know I don't. I don't see why we can't just go buy one."

"Because the party starts in two hours and we don't have time. Please put it on. Just for the evening, okay?" Bruce pleaded.

Jonathan shook his head. "I declined your invitation, remember?"

"You have to come." Bruce held the suit to Jonathan again. "How else will I stay sane?"

"I suggest a good meal before admitting yourself into Arkham. The meal plan is terrible." Jonathan turned around and stalked out of the room.

Bruce was left standing in his bedroom, suit in one hand. He rolled his eyes and sighed, exasperated. He needed the other man to wear his suit for just one evening while they attended Bruce's annual company party. Jonathan had slipped into his old suit, but when Bruce commented on the many strings and nearly threadbare spots and offered one of his own, Jonathan went on the offensive.

And now he had left.

"Jonathan!" Bruce headed into the hallway.

But the man was nowhere to be seen.

"I believe he went to the library, sir." Alfred stepped from the guest room. "I saw him pass toward it."

Bruce sighed and headed along the hallway. It was true, that when Jonathan was overwhelmed or angered, or both, he invariably found himself in the library, sitting or standing among the shelves.

And it had happened often enough for it to be considered a habit. Every time they argued about Jonathan following Batman into the night, or when Jonathan mentioned working somewhere other than Wayne Enterprises and Bruce demanded to know where he would rather work than beside him, or when Jonathan spent hours mumbling the formulas and recipes for his various toxins to himself.

In the end, it always returned to Batman. Jonathan made a point out of everything- Bruce wanted him to stay at Wayne Enterprises to be by his side but refused to take him into the night. Jonathan recited his recipes so as not to forget them and Bruce wanted to know if the Scarecrow should be in Arkham, away from any temptation.

It made them both wonder just how much they trusted the other.

"Jonathan?"

Silence in the library.

"C'mon, I wasn't trying to insult you." Bruce called out loudly, knowing Jonathan was in there somewhere.

Nothing but silence.

He made his way around the library, but found no sign of his partner. Worry flashed through him- if Jonathan was not here, where else would he hide? Bruce whisked through the remainder of the library before hurrying down the hall back toward the bedroom. Less than two hours and they were not dressed, were not ready, one was missing-

"I was saving it." Jonathan said sullenly as he stepped out of the bedroom, fingers doing the buttons up the front of his white shirt. "Hoping that I could wear it out."

Bruce looked over the perfectly black pants, the white shirt Jonathan had barely begun to button. A jacket lay over one arm.

"Where?" Bruce knew it was a stupid question as soon as it left his mouth, as soon as Jonathan's face darkened.

"Out." Jonathan said shortly, moving to turn away.

But Bruce reached him first, long fingers replacing Jonathan's and doing fine white buttons. Jonathan fought only a moment before his hands fell away, one arm bent to hold his jacket in place.

I didn't want to tell him until after... Bruce looked at Jonathan's sullen face. I want him to come with me tonight, but I want it to be a surprise.

"I'll make it worth it." Bruce promised, pressing a kiss to Jonathan's forehead.

"I know what your version of 'worth it' is, Mister Wayne." Jonathan muttered. "Pound me into the mattress again, will you? Or will you change it up this time?"

"No." Bruce said softly. "It'll be something very different this time. Trust me, okay?"

Trust me.

Jonathan looked to Bruce's face for a moment before stepping away. "Fine."

Jonathan turned and headed down the hallway, slipping into the jacket as he walked.

Sometimes I wonder why I'm here. Jonathan fumed. I could leave and do as I pleased. Instead I stay here, a caged bird. Or a pretty accessory.

But I love him.

And sometimes Jonathan hated that fact the most.

He buttoned his jacket slowly, mindlessly making his way to the kitchen. He gave a small smile to Alfred as the latter moved about, preparing glasses of wine and looking over the trays and trays of assorted finger-foods.

"Do you need any help?" Jonathan asked.

Alfred glanced to him. "Only if you are trying to distract yourself, Master Crane."

When the butler looked over Jonathan's face, he said. "I need more wine poured. The glasses... well, you know where they are, sir."

Jonathan nodded and made his way to the cupboard. He filled his thoughts with glass, with crimson wine flowing into clear vessels. Hands moved mindlessly, one glass after another.

He set another to the side and reached for yet another, his mindless movements broken when he heard glass shatter. Blue eyes widened as he immediately looked to the floor when his feet began to grow damp.

"Shit." He said softly, stepping away from the shattered glass.

"It's okay, sir. I will clean it-" Alfred was immediately at his side.

"No, Alfred, I'll clean it." Jonathan took the towel from the butler's hands and knelt. "Don't worry about it."

Jonathan sopped up the red liquid quickly, laying the towel on the floor to gather the rest. Slender fingers gripped shards of glass delicately.

"Jonathan? What are you doing?"

He saw Bruce's feet before he saw anything else. The man crouched down next to him, worry on his face. Jonathan glanced at him before picking the remaining glass up, laying the pieces in one hand.

"Are you okay?" he asked in concern.

"I'm fine." Jonathan said smoothly as he took a hold of the towel in his free hand and stood. Bruce stood with him.

Bruce went to take the towel from Jonathan and dispose of the mess, but the latter turned from him before he had the chance. A glance revealed Alfred looking at them both with a knowing, yet all-too pitying expression. Bruce looked away immediately, not wanting to think about the connotations of Alfred's almost worried gaze.

Jonathan dumped the glass in the trash before going to Alfred. "Will this wash out?"

"Undoubtedly, Master Crane." Alfred gave him a smile. "Why don't you go change your socks and I'll finish this?" He took the wet towel from the other's hands.

A nod was all the man needed in reply before he exited the kitchen, towel in one hand. Jonathan passed Bruce as he, too, went into a hallway.

"Hey."

He heard Bruce but chose not to stop. They would end up at the same destination anyway, and his sock was uncomfortably wet.

"I'm sorry."

It's always apologies.

"For what now?"

"I didn't mean to insult you." Bruce said softly, walking two paces behind his partner.

"Then what did you mean to do?" He asked, honestly curious.

Bruce took a breath. "Tonight is the first night you appear in front of everyone. I want them to see what I see, not a Scarecrow." A deeper breath, then he continued. "Only Fox really knows you work with me at Wayne Enterprises."

"I can easily work elsewhere." Jonathan entered the bedroom and immediately toed out of his socks.

"I want you close by." Bruce knew the argument by now.

"And yet you demand I stay behind every night? It's been three months, Bruce."

Bruce walked up to Jonathan, hands gently resting on the man's arms. Jonathan stood perfectly still as Bruce's eyes roved over the slightly-pink scar gracing Jonathan's throat.

I guess I have to tell him, unless I want him to be miserable all night-

"Sirs?" Alfred stepped into the doorway. "May I remind you we are running low on time?"

Jonathan looked to the butler. "We'll be right there, Alfred."

"Very well."

The psychiatrist looked back to Bruce as Alfred left their sight. "I can't sit here like an ornament. " A hesitant breath, then "I was always so busy. Working with patients, perfecting a formula. Always planning. Do you understand why this isn't going to work?"

"I know." Bruce said softly. "I promise, after tonight it'll be better."

"Can you promise that?"

"Yes."

Jonathan cocked his head. "I hope so."

Otherwise I don't know how I can stand it here, whether I love him or not.