Scars We Share

hi guys, Ididntdoit07 here! I know most of you are awaiting Moonstruck. It's coming up in the next few days, so sorry for the wait! New readers, go check out that story too. Anyways this is a Batman Begins/Dark Knight fiction and well... yeah.

Warning/Disclaimer: I dont own anything, and there is mpreg in this story. But only the first half. If you dont like it, don't read it. Slash eventually. Maybe.

A man runs through the high towers of Gotham City, panting as he does so. With his arms wrapped around himself, blood drips from his hands and leaves a spotted trail on the concrete under his feet. He pushes through a couple leaving from a late night movie. It is past midnight and he is surprised to find anyone out at the hour besides himself. He turns back to assure himself it is not anyone he knows and continues to run.

Sirens go off in the distance, and it is his cue to find somewhere to hide.

He whips his head off to check for helicopters. None—a good sign.

For the Joker, these kinds of nights were what he lived for, but not today.

The grease paint is melting from his sweat with his hair plastered to his face. Teeth clenched, he knows he has to find somewhere to hide before it's too late. He has been running for about an hour now as his previous home had been vacated rather suddenly.

A warm liquid trickles down his legs and he can tell the bleeding is getting worse. He curses to himself and dashes in between cars and trees as he exits the central park in the city. Flashing blue and red lights enter his peripheral and hurries along.

He finds an alley way to hide in right as a police cruiser passes by with its lights on strobe. He leans against the cool wall, taking a break from his run.

His bloody hand rustles in his coat pocket, searching for his cell phone. "Come on…" he whispers to himself, and once located, he instantly dials in the first number coming to his mind.

Raising it to his ear, he tries to catch his breath and coughs in the process. The ringing relaxes his body. "Pick up, you son of a bitch."

It rings four more times until a familiar, husky voice picks up.

"Hello?"

"Bats…" The Joker pants out. "Wh…"

But the voice cuts him off. "Joker? How did you get this number?"

"A friend of a friend of a friend's cousin's fiancé." His answer, dripping with sarcasm. "Listen. I need a ride."

"What?"

"You heard me… Come and get me. Now would be good."

"Why…"

"Because I need to go to the grocery store at 2 in the morning. Bats, I don't care what you're doing. Just come get me and you can do whatever you want with me after."

"Why would I help you?" Bruce Wayne stands from his comfy bed, pulling on a coat with questions as to why the Joker would be calling him at the early hours.

"I'll tip you."

"I'm not your taxi driver, much less a helping hand."

The clown ducks behind a dumpster as another cruiser passes the alley way and growls into the phone. "I'm at the intersection of 5th Avenue and Ponce. I ju-" He is cut off by his own sharp groan of pain that surprises both himself and the Batman.

The sarcastic, slurred tone leaves the Joker's voice as he begs into the phone, "Bats, please…"

Connection is lost, leaving Bruce Wayne in shock.

The Joker cannot recall how many times he has looked at his phone for the time since he had called the Batman. All he hoped for was that the stubborn billionaire was actually coming. Ten minutes… fifteen minutes…. Twenty five minutes…

He sits, curled over with his arms and head resting on his knees as the pain worsens. He bites his forearm to create a distracting pain from a different part in his body.

He lifts his head and then sees the black tumbler parked beside the alleyway.

"No way…" He remarks, relieved to see his savior.

The Caped Crusader exits the ride in full uniform, striding angrily towards the clown.

The Joker struggles to his feet, unaware that his human face is showing.

I… I never imagined how different the Joker would look without his makeup. I wouldn't even guess it was him if he wasn't wearing the purple coat.

"You… you could have gotten here faster."

"Sorry, rush hour is always a bitch at these hours."

He smiles at the Batman's wit, but it quickly fades as a new pain overwhelms him and he collapses, holding his belly. He lets out a small cry, tears flooding his eyes. The billionaire then realizes the Joker is hurt and in need of assistance.

Pushing his hatred for the man aside, he grabs the man's arm and yanks him forward towards the tumbler. "Get in."

He does as he is told and the vigilante gets into the driver's seat. The vehicle roars to life and bursts forward. "Okay talk."

"About what?" The clown is transfixed on the entire tumbler, staring at every detail and gadget in the thing.

"Why I'm helping you and where you want to go."

The Joker sighs as the pain subsides as if it had never happened. "Just get me somewhere safe, I don't care if it's a fucking motel. Anywhere."

"And the other question."

"Because I got myself into some trouble and am dealing with the consequences now."

"So that's why you're hurt."

The Joker turns to him, normal voice coming back. "I'm not hurt. I'm just… bleeding."

"Bleeding doesn't make people scream."

"I didn't scream."

"You fell."

"Because I was caught off guard."

Bruce sighs, his growl fading. "Okay. Why are you bleeding?"

"No."

"No?"

"A magician never reveals his secrets."

"Okay, you were shot." He assumes.

"Yes, and… no."

"Why all the 'no's?"

"I'm bleeding, not because of the bullet wound."

"Last time I checked, being shot makes anyone bleed."

The menace ignores the statement and fixes himself, exhaling heavily. Sweat beads on his skin and runs his ungloved palms over his abdomen. The Batman looks out of the corner of his eye and notices…

"You gained weight."

"Thanks for noticing."

In his middle is a perfect curved protrusion, poking through the sides of his large coat. He rubs around it in circles, trying to soothe the pain. Bruce looks over once again, seeing the Joker in a vulnerable state. With his eyes closed, he hums, never removing his hands from his stomach. The scars on either side of his face are revealed—the grease paint is completely gone, with the exception of dark rings under his eyes.

"Stop looking at me, its freaking me out."

The Bat does not apologize, but grunts and turns back to the road. He does not want to admit it, but he is concerned about the man in the passenger's seat. Without the makeup, the Joker is a completely different individual. He is human.

His breathing accelerates and he wheezes out, "Drive faster…" before hunching over his belly and crying out in pain.

He shifts the controls and the tumbler bursts forward, leaving a trail of ash behind the motors. I don't know where else I could take him…. Alfred better be in a listening mood.

"Tell me, now. What's going on?"

The Joker's piercing gaze reaches the billionaire's eye, and snarls. "It's called bleeding out, Bats."

That's what I don't get, Joker. Why are you bleeding out?

"You'll find out pretty soon, at this rate." He grunts out and begins to pant again. His attention goes to the black gloved hand on the controls. "Do you need both hands?"

"No… wh—Hey!" He protests as the Joker snatches the Batman's right hand…

And rests it on his round stomach.

His heart stops at the familiar feeling, and something moves beneath his palm. "You're…"

"I'm not going to say it because it's too embarrassing, but yes."

Bruce Wayne quickly takes back his hand, too freaked out to not pay attention to the road. "How… how long?"

"Gee, I don't know. Nine months?"

"That's not even…"

"Possible?" The Joker suggests, "Yeah, I dealt with the whole denial thing too until it started doing this to me. And guess what? You're the lucky contender to deal with me while in labor!"

The billionaire's heart sinks to the pit of his stomach. "What…"

"So, get me somewhere fast, because I really don't want to have it on the street or in here, Brucie."

Bruce? Did he really just call me…?

"How long have you known."

The Joker shifts his position to face the billionaire behind the mask. "I've known for a long time now. It just wouldn't be fun anymore if I told anyone."

"How do I know you're telling the truth?"

"If I had told anyone, you would know by now."

He has a point.

His face twists up and he clenches his teeth as another contraction rages through his frame and something drops, and gives…

"Alfred! Alfred, I need your help now!"

The Butler wakes up from a quick nap he had caught on the couch and rubs the sleep from his eyes at the call of his name. "Alfred!" His young master's voice sounds urgent and he scrambles to his feet in search of the voice.

He runs to the kitchen where his heart stops.

There is his young master, face mask torn off holding a figure in the dark. Dark blood coats the tiles on the floor and his heart sinks. "Oh my… what happened to you?"

"It's not me, it's him."

Alfred stares at the scars upon the Joker's face. "He needs help, Alfred. You're the only one I know that could possibly help."

The Joker stirs and whines out, "No… I'm doing this alone.."

"You're insane."

"So I'm told…" He trails off and his face scrunches up as another contraction rips through his body.

"He's in labor, Alfred. He needs help…"

"Labor? Oh... oh, my lord."

Bruce pushed through the shocked butlet and finally found an empty bedroom, lying the Joker on the sheets. "Wh… what all do you need?"

"Hot water… towels… string, ah… and vodka. Lots of it."

The Joker sits up and removes his heavy trench coat, throwing it on the floor, followed by his vest. He kicks off his shoes and lies on his back, shutting his eyes. The situation has yet to register in his mind and thoughts of being inside Bruce Wayne's home, being helped by his arch enemy, was enough for his mind to take.

He was delivered the supplies as listed, and thanked the two for their help.

"Don't help me."

"Are you sure?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

Bruce was taken aback and sighs. "Call Alfred if you need help."

Joker locks the door after him and rubs his mound of a belly. He sighs to himself, somewhat wishing he did have help. Blood dripped all over the floor, down his legs. Taking a deep breath, he moves back to the bed, spreading a protective sheet over the comforter to avoid stains.

He snatches up the bottle of vodka, and stares at its contents. Yeah, like a shot of vodka is going to get me drunk. He unscrews the cap and chugs it right from the bottle…

It smashes to the floor and a warm liquid seeps through his clothes below his waist. He yelps out loud and braces a hand against the bed frame with another on his belly.

He pulls himself onto the bed, and wiggles his wet trousers off, tossing them to the floor. The Joker wraps his fingers around the iron head board, takes a deep breath, and pushes….

Bruce Wayne washes the last bit of blood off of his hands in the kitchen sink, shocked by the events of the past hour. The Joker was pregnant? That's impossible.

He looks at the clock hanging above his head. It had been two hours since he arrived at the penthouse with his arch enemy and it was strange to not hear one sound. If the babe was born and cried, did he just not hear it?

It is too quiet for Bruce's tastes and he strides upstairs to check on the Joker. He pauses halfway, listening contently to the staccato banging coming from the guest room. His heart sinks and he sprints up the rest of the steps and kicks open the door.

The smell of blood is almost too much for him and he gags, instantly covering his nose in his sleeve. The billionaire gazes around the room…

The Joker is nowhere to be seen but the bed clearly shows he had paid a full visit to the penthouse. Its covers and sheets are torn off leaving a bare mattress and a leather belt is tied around the iron head rest as leverage. He looks to the right where the bathroom door is open and spots of blood reflect on the tiles.

He strides into the bathroom and sees the bloody sheets lying in a bathtub of cold water. He counts the untouched, white towels lying on top of the toilet and counts them. One is missing.

BAM.

Bruce whips his head up and goes back into the bedroom, staring straight at the window… which is flapping open and closed from the wind.

The Joker is gone.

Well thats it for the first chapter, the second is coming up once Moonstruck is updated as well. Writer's block is a bitch, is it not? Didn't help that my computer crashed either. Eek. Tell me if you like it, love it, hate it, etc. and what needs to be improved. I'm not forcing anyone to read this.

-Ididntdoit07