Behind Insanity

.1.

The Fool

The Fool Card in Tarot is the spark that sets everything into motion, the breath that inspires the first steps of the journey towards fulfillment and completion.. It is the cause behind all effects...

Arkham Asylum was quite possibly the closet thing to Hell on Earth, but even the Joker had to admit, it was the perfect place for gathering one's thoughts. For two months now he behaved himself. There were no escape attempts nor violent outbursts, and he even refrained from mocking his guards and fellow inmates. The guards, who should have been grateful and relieved for the Joker's new change in behavior, instead grew even more leery of him.

There were even stranger changes in the maniac's behavior. The Joker, who had always seemed to be a surprisingly patient man when it came to being locked up, spent each day pacing back and forth in his cell, muttering to himself quietly one moment then erupting into a sudden fit of giggles the next. Sometimes he would stop his pacing and produce a piece of chalk—the only object other than a harmless deck of playing cards he was allowed to keep—from his sleeve and proceeded to scribble nonsensical notes on the walls, floor, and even the ceiling of his cell. To any observer, it would seem as though he had become even more deranged than before.

The Joker stood, chalk in hand, staring at the drawings on the wall that looked like complete gibberish to anyone other than himself. There was a crude stick figure drawing of Rachel Dawes with some childishly drawn flames engulfing her, and another of Harvey Dent with half his face scribbled out. Licking his signature scarred lips, he drew a thick chalk line between the two of figures, then made two more lines pointing to a Batman symbol with a question mark in the middle, to form a triangle.

Something right then and there clicked inside that depraved mind of his, and his painted lips curled into a mischievous smile. He began to laugh to himself, quietly at first, then louder and louder until he was on the floor, holding his sides and rolling around on his back. "Ahahahaha—yes!" He clapped his hands together in sheer delight. "Yes... that must be it! Ha!It all makes perfect sense!"

After recovering from his hysterics, he crawled back over to the wall and with his sleeve, erased the bat symbol drawing. "Mmm..." Joker rose to his feet, combing his fingers through his disheveled green-tinted hair and looked over at the cell door.

"Alright, I've had enough of this place. Time to get outta here and find my Bat."

The nearly rebuilt Wayne Mansion was silent and peaceful for weeks. Other than the occasional robbery, Batman saw little action nowadays. The Dark Knight's actions over the past months, had forced the remaining mobsters in Gothham into hiding, and struck fear into the hearts of the other petty criminals. Ironically, after the Joker was thrown into Arkham, Batman became the most wanted man in the entire city. Half the police department was out searching for him each night ever since he took the blame for Harvey's killing spree.

Alfred enjoyed this change in pace. For once in a long time he felt like a normal butler again, and not some accomplice to a vigilante who, at night, dressed up like a bat to scare and beat the snot out of criminals. Now, instead of staying up every night, wondering if Bruce would come home alive in the morning, Alfred's biggest concern was deciding which detergent was best for removing stubborn stains.

Peace, however, was short-lived.

That night, as the old butler was folding Bruce's shirts in front of the television, the news came on with a startling report.

"The streets of Gothham have erupted into chaos this evening as the criminal known only as, 'the Joker,' set off a series of bombs that completely leveled the Gothham City Bank on 42nd street. Everyone inside the bank was able to evacuate before detonation, but fifteen people were reported injured. Earlier today, the Joker escaped from Arkham Asylum, killing three guards in the process..."

"Oh God..." Alfred watched the screen with a horrified look on his face. He quickly overcame his initial shock, and hurried out of the room to fetch Bruce. "Oh dear God... Master Wayne!"

Bruce was in his weight room, just completing another set of crunches when he heard Alfred calling his name. He sat up, brushing the sweat from his brow with his forearm, and looked up at his butler when he rushed in. He could tell from the look on his old friend's face that something bad must have happened. "Alfred, what's wrong?"

"The Joker..." Alfred trailed off; he didn't know where to begin.

'The Joker...' That was all Bruce needed to hear. In an instant he was on his feet, pushing his way past Alfred into the living room to see the news broadcast. What he saw on the television made the blood in his veins turn to ice.

The Joker was on the screen, laughing maniacally as he fired a machine gun through some parked cars on the side of the road. Suddenly, he stopped and turned, noticing that he was being filmed. Slowly, he stalked over to the cameraman. The camera began to shake has the cameraman trembled with fear. "Hi there." The Joker smirked as he drew closer. The cameraman finally gave a cry and ran off, abandoning his camera on the side of the road.

"Hey—Where are you going? Hm... I guess he didn't want an interview...Heh heh!" Joker picked up the camera and turned it on his face. He cleared his throat gave the camera his best grin. "Good evening good people of Gothham City. Remember me? Bet you thought you got rid of me, huh?! Well! Sorry to be the barer of bad news, but it won't be that easy. Y'see," he took a moment to lick his lips, "I'm not going anywhere unless The Batman comes out of whatever hole he's been hiding in to stop me. So... til then..." He dropped the camera on ground and began stomping on it. The screen roared with static before blacking out completely.

Bruce's face grew hot with rage, and had to turn away from the television. "He's toying with me Alfred! Toying with me!" He thought about his last encounter with the Joker, how the two ferries refused to press the bomb detonator to save their own lives. "I proved to him he was wrong about the people of this city, that they were good people! What else does he want?!"

"You, sir." Alfred frowned. "He wants you. He loves fighting you—he lives for it."

"Then I'll just have to give him what he wants!" Bruce growled as he stormed off towards the secret entrance of his cave to get suited up into Batman. Their last meeting had left a bitter taste in Bruce's mouth. Though he was able to save countless innocent lives from destruction, he was not able to save Harvey Dent from the Joker's corruption. This time, he would have to get to the clown as soon possible. For every second wasted, put the city in all the more danger.

"Sir..." Alfred stopped him before he reached the lift for the Bat Cave. Something in the old butler's gut told him to stop his master from leaving. But Alfred knew what had to be done; he knew that Batman was the only man on Earth who could put a stop to this monster's path of destruction. "Be careful, sir..."

Bruce turned around and gave him a reassuring smile. "Thank you, Alfred. I will," he said and stepped into the lift. As the metal doors closed in front of him, he added, "Sorry, but I guess you'll be eating dinner alone tonight without me."

Alfred sighed and shook his head. "Heh, just like ol' times..."

The street was barren and littered with ashes, rubble, and scorched scraps of money. The Joker twirled around in circles, as bits of money sprinkled down on him from the bombed bank vault, like a child dancing in a flurry of snowflakes. He had no use nor desire for money. Money was for the "lower class" of criminals, who pissed themselves in fear at the very mention of Batman's name.

Abruptly, his spinning came to a halt. He looked around impatiently with a groan. "Hmm...This is boooring... There's nothing fun to do anymore..." He began to walk down the side of the road, knocking out the windows of cars with the butt of his gun as he passed by them.

Without warning, a dark figure leapt off the top of a building, and came crashing down on him. The force knocked the gun out of his hands, and the Joker onto the pavement. Before he could recover, he was yanked back up by his raggedy green locks to stare face-to-face at a visibly pissed off Batman. "You're late!" He grinned at him before the hero's fist struck him hard in the face. The blow sent him sailing backwards into one of the cars.

Joker held his head and started laughing. "What did I tell you about starting off with the head—" He was cut-off when Batman grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and roughly shoved him back against the car, cracking the side window.

"How did you get out?!" Batman snarled into his face. As usual he had no patience for jokes. In fact, he was sick of the Joker's ceaseless witticism.

The madman continued to giggle, completely ignoring Batman's threatening tone. "Eheheheheh—so you've finally come out to play!"

Hoisting the mad clown off the ground by the collar of his shirt, Batman asked again, this time in a harsher tone. "How did you escape from Arkham?!"

Out of reflex, the Joker latched onto Batman's arm to prevent his shirt from ripping. He looked into the other man's brown eyes and smiled darkly. "Well, uh, apparently, I'm very good at faking seizures."

Batman twitched with anger. It wasn't hard to piece together what had happened. The guards probably lost their lives trying to help the lunatic... Those poor men had no idea who they were dealing with or what hit them. That smug look on the Joker's face sickened him. He was actually proud of what he did. Teeth grit, he tossed the clown, full-force, into the street so he did not have to look at that painted face of his anymore. "You're scum." He hissed.

The clown hit the ground hard, landing on his back. The fall knocked the wind out of him; for a moment he could hardly breathe. Despite his shortness of breath, he continued to speak in a jeering tone. "You... heh heh... you must've...heh...heh... you must've... reeeeally missed me!" He gasped out.

The vigilante narrowed his eyes and stepped towards him. "Why would I miss a freak like you?"

When the larger man advanced towards him, the Joker sat up and began to crawl backwards. "Don't try and tell me you weren't bored without someone like me to rough up. You should be hugging me, not hitting me!" As he spoke, he inched himself closer and closer towards the gun he dropped when Batman landed on him before. Just a little closer... "After all, because of that little...'Dent' incident, you've become a wanted man. Now they call you a murderer—like me!"

For a moment, Batman actually thought about what the clown had said. He had become a wanted man. People seemed to forget how many lives he saved and criminals he locked up; now they were only concerned about the negatives—the murders of some drugged out mob leaders. Quickly though, he realized what the Joker was trying to do, and pushed his words out of his mind when he noticed how close he had gotten to the discarded weapon. In a flash, he lumbered over to him and kicked the gun under one of the parked cars before the maniac could reach it. With a low growl, he seized the Joker by the throat. "I did what I had to, for the good of this city!" He clenched his hand against the murderer's windpipe and squeezed.

Gagging, the Joker thrashed, kicked, and clawed at his hand. He tried to speak, but could only muster a choked cry. He fought against the man desperately, like an animal in a trap. Then all at once, he calmed down and suddenly grabbed Batman's wrist tightly, forcing a grin. "And what, exactly, has the city ever done for you, Brucey?"

In that instant, other man released him, and the Joker fell to his knees, gasping for air. Batman was completely caught off guard. This was bad. This was really bad. "What did you say?!"

"Are you surprised, mm? You shouldn't be." The Joker rubbed his abused throat and looked up at him with a smirk. "Y'see, my little stay at Arkham gave me time to... think things—through a little." His tongue lashed out to lick his lips. "Wanna know how I figured it out?"

Though he was fully clad in protective kevlar armor, Bruce felt stark naked. Now the illusion, the symbol was ruined. The Dark Knight was now just a man, a mortal in the eyes of his worst enemy. He did not want to hear anymore. Instead, he wanted to smash the clown's face in. His hand raised and clenched into a quivering fist, ready to deliver another bruising punch.

Joker lowered his head and held his hands up defensively in anticipation for the next blow. "It wasn't hard! I just put all the pieces together!" When the blow did not come, he glanced back up at Batman, whose fist still lingered in the air. So he did want to know. The clown grinned and continued, "I just had to pay attention to all the, uh, details... Y'see, it was obvious from the get go that you had to be someone with money and connections. I mean, how else would you be able to afford such...neat toys? That narrowed it down a bit, but only a bit. What reeeally gave you away was your connection to Harvey Dent and Rachel Dawes."

'Rachel...' Bruce almost struck him right then and there for saying her name. It took a great deal of strength to hold himself back from beating the Joker's face in. He hated that monster for taking her away from him, and would never forgive him for killing her. She was the only person who gave him hope, the one person who mattered most to him, and she was stolen away from him forever.

"Y'know, when you threw yourself so... gallantly out the window after her, I thought you were Harvey, trying to save his main squeeze from getting...squished. Obviously, you're not him, but guess who else wasn't present at the par-ty? Bruce Wayne, the play boy, childhood friends to Ms. Rachel Dawes. But even that wasn't enough to be sure..." He paused to lick his lips. "This last part, though, tied it allllll together. Remember when I told you where Rachel and Harvey were being held captive? 'Course you do. Well anyway, when I told you, I, uh, switched up their addresses—just for fun! Now, I was almost sure you'd go to where Rachel was being held to save Harvey, but I was wrong! Instead, you went to Harvey's whereabouts so you could save the girl!" He started to laugh. "I knew then, she had to have been pret-ty important to you seeing how you'd actually sacrifice 'Gothham's White Knight' for a measly District Attorney!"

Finally, Batman could not hold himself back any longer, and his fist came crashing into the Joker's laughing face. "Shut up!" He roared.

The force of the blow knocked the other man back down on the ground, the back of his head hitting the cold pavement. Slowly, the Joker sat up and wiped the corner of his mouth. A metallic taste filled his mouth. He turned his head and spat blood then looked back up at Bruce, his green eyes burning with intensity. "If you don't wanna lose the game, you have to play by the rules, Brucey boy."

"What do you want?" Batman scowled.

"Uh, well..." The Joker took his time in answering. He stretched his sore muscles and popped his neck, taking his time to recover from the last painful assault. "I just don't want to go back to prison. I leave it up to you to decide what to do with me." He smirked.

Bruce could gather what the Joker was trying to do; he was testing him to see if he would break his one rule in order to protect his secret. 'He's trying to corrupt me, just like he corrupted Harvey...' "You think you can pressure me into killing you or letting you go?"

"Yeah." Joker said very matter-of-factly.

"Heh, who would believe a freak like you anyway?" Batman gave a short, spiteful laugh. Even though the other man knew his secret, he kept his deep, gruff Batman voice. Call it habit, or call it a means of intimidation.

The clown shakily rose to his feet, looking up at the taller man with a devious smile. "You're right. I'm sure most people will think I'm just a raving lunatic. But... it only takes one person to believe me... If just one person takes me seriously... game over. I mean, if I could figure it out, how hard do you think it could be?"

Batman grit his teeth. He hated to admit it, but the maniac was right. After all, that idiot Coleman Reese was able to figure it out somehow too. There was no telling if Reese would forget about owing Bruce his life, and come forward after hearing the Joker's ramblings. This whole situation just got very delicate, and Bruce would have to plan his next moves carefully if he didn't want his whole world to come crashing down around him.

His thoughts were interrupted by the loud shrill of police sirens in the distance. Both men jumped in surprise, looked around then looked back at each other. It seemed as though the police had finally decided to intervene. Bruce began to panic; he knew he couldn't let the Joker run free, but he also couldn't allow the police to arrest him, as doing so would put his identity in jeopardy.

Joker stood on his tippy-toes and glanced over Batman's shoulder, toward the direction of the sirens with an amused grin. "Sounds like they're coming to get me." His eyes flicked back to the other man, staring hard into his dark eyes as if trying to read his thoughts. "Well, what'll it be, Bats?"

Batman was silent, deep in thought. He was carefully mulling over the options in his head, trying to decide the best course of action. As the sirens grew louder, he saw the flashing lights of a police car as it turned down the street out of the corner of his eyes. 'Damn it!' There was no more time to think. He had to act now.

"Bats?" Joker pried again, waving his hand in front of the other man's face. 'Where did he go? Out to lunch?' Suddenly, Batman sprung back to life and snatched his hand, squeezing it hard. Before he could react, the larger man struck him hard over the head. The Joker felt a sharp pain at his temple that was followed by complete numbness. His vision began to haze, and the next thing he knew he was on the ground. The last thing he saw before he blacked out completely was Batman's feet.

Bruce froze. He could hardly believe his own actions. He felt as if he was no longer in control of his own body. He stared down at the Joker's unconscious form, debating on whether or not to leave it there for the police. 'I can't just let him go... but I can't let them take him away either.'

Finally, he reached down and scooped the killer's motionless body up into his arms and ran. Bruce's adrenaline must have kicked in at that point because the Joker seemed to weight nothing at all. He was able to carry him down the street and into a dark alley before the cop car could spot the two of them. Down the alley he ran, maneuvering them through the dark labyrinth until he found where he parked his Bat-cycle. Bruce sat the unconscious man down on the bike, carefully positioning him on it so that he wouldn't fall off during the ride. He sat down behind the Joker and heaved a sigh. He asked himself what he was doing and why he was doing it, and if this really was the best decision. 'No sense turning back now.' He thought. He revved up the engine and sped off down the street with his new captive.

As the bike accelerated, the Joker's head slumped backwards against Bruce's shoulder. His green-tinted hair blew in the wind, and tickled the parts of his face not covered by his mask. It made Bruce get an uneasy feeling in his stomach. It was strange to have his enemy so close without posing a threat to his life. He knew he was taking on a tremendous risk by bringing the Joker into his home, but there was no other choice. If he couldn't turn him in and he couldn't let him go, the least he could do was to lock him up and keep him out of trouble—at least until he could come up with a better solution.

Back at Wayne Manor, Alfred had fallen asleep on the couch waiting for Bruce to come home. The loud roar from an engine outside roused him from his sleep. He glanced over at the clock with a puzzled look. It seemed way too early for Bruce to be back home; usually he was out till dawn when Batman was needed.

The old butler got up and headed into one of the many secret entrances to the Bat cave. Cautiously, he made his way down the dark staircase. At the bottom of the stairs, he could see Bruce dismounting his bike. Through the darkness, Alfred could make out another figure resting on the Bat-cycle. He watched as Bruce carefully leaned over the bike and picked up the other figure who remained completely limp in his arms. "Master Wayne?" Alfred squinted his eyes as he moved closer, trying to make out who the other figure was.

Bruce swung around in surprise upon hearing his voice, revealing the unconscious Joker in his arms. "Alfred..." Bruce began, his voice that of tired desperation, "I need your help..."

To Be Continued...

(A/N): Wow it's been forever since I've written something here. I usually don't write unless I'm really inspired and motivated by a pairing... and boy, AM I MOTIVATED! BrucexJoker ftw! This pairing has seriously destroyed my childhood, but I still love it! Honestly, I love good guy/bad guy, good vs. evil relationships... Nothing like a little fight, drama, and angry sex to spice up a relationship, am I right? (all three of those things will happen in future chapters, I promise!)

Reviews/Comments are appreciated. It's my first time writing a Batman fanfic, so I'd love to hear your thoughts :)