A teeny, tiny 1-shot that covers a conversation between Batman and Joker sometime after Joker had killed Robin (Jason Todd). Here is my vision of that event.

Warning: Some Language . . .

Batman climbed through the window into the hospital room. The person he was after was hooked up to a multitude of monitors and machines. There was a steady 'beep beep beep' of the heart monitor that seemed to mock him. As he looked down at the lump of bandages and bruises, he discovered that he suddenly wished that it had been he who had put the son of a bitch in that bed.

But he couldn't . . . Not so soon after . . . He wouldn't have stopped.

His fist clenched tight as he ground his molars together. As his eyes flicked down to the plugs, he wondered if the bastard's heart would stop before the nurses and doctors could arrive. He closed his eyes and breathed: in, out, in, out . . . Counting as he struggled to get his emotions back in check.

He shouldn't have come. It was still too soon after . . . Jason.

"Batsy!" the voice croaked. "You came to visit me! You really do care." He was whistling through his nose as his breathed. Somehow, the patient's delight was detectable despite his pitiable condition.

Must be the drugs, Batman thought. He picked up the clipboard and began reading the report. Beyond the obvious, Nightwing left Joker with five broken ribs, a bruised diaphragm, two bruised kidneys, there was even bruising on his liver – Huh, that would have hurt, Batman thought, grunting in approval as he continued his survey.

"If I knew you would be this concerned, I would have killed a Robin that much sooner," Joker rasped. "You know, for all that your first little bird is wittier, he really wasn't all that amusing this time around," he complained. "I'm beginning to believe that I should have started with him. He's a lot less fun now that he's all grown up. You know, he didn't crack even one pun during the entire beating? Not one!"

"You were lucky he decided to stop when he did," Batman managed through clenched teeth. No, he knew that he would not have stopped.

One broken arm, a broken tibia and fibula, a dislocated knee in the opposite leg, a concussion, several facial fractures, a broken nose - hence the reason for the whistling. Batman noted that his 'good' wrist, while bandaged was not casted and was currently handcuffed to the rail. The call light and the pump for his painkillers placed within easy reach.

"Am I? Well, I must be," Joker went on, smiling madly in spite of his swollen jaw and crusted lips, "because here you are. Did you bring me anything? A card, perhaps?"

One edge of Batman's lips lifted, not quite a smile. Something unusual, even on a good day, for the Dark Knight.

"Actually, Joker, I did you one better," he said, moving to the window sill.

"Oooh! What is it? Can I see? Gimme, gimme," Joker laughed, a groan following on its heels. "Ow! Stop. [wheeze] Don't make me laugh."

Batman plucked the bouquet of lilies from where he had left them on the ledge outside and brought them into the room. Opening the top of Joker's water pitcher, Batman dropped the flowers inside, using it as vase. He turned, placing them on the rolling, bedside table.

Joker's eyes widened when he saw them, his ever-present smile twitching with uncertainty. "Um, Batsy," he said, "those wouldn't be lilies, would they?"

"As a matter of fact, they are," Batman fluffed the flowers. Yellow pollen lightly dusted the surface of the table.

"They're lovely." He swallowed hard even as his nose twitched. "And as much as I appreciate the sentiment, I really can't accept them."

"Oh, and why is that?" Batman asked, but he already knew. It was the reason he had chosen them, after all.

"You probably didn't know this . . ."

Actually, he did.

"It's funny, really . . ." the clown gasped.

Indeed, it would be quite amusing very soon.

"But, you see, I'm allergic to lilies," Joker snickered, but it didn't sound like his heart was in it. "So, if you could take them with you when you leave. You're leaving soon, I hope." Joker's voice was sounding raspier by the second if that was possible.

Batman moved the call light further down the bed and secured it safely out of reach .

A violent sneeze caught the clown off-guard and he groaned in pain. The cuff rattled as Joker attempted to reach for the pain pump. Batman, always helpful, removed it from the bed altogether, setting it on the floor. His boot nudged it beneath the bed.

A coughing fit followed and tears of pain squeezed from the sides of Joker's eyes.

"Puh-lease," he wheezed right before another sneeze overtook him. The groan was much louder this time.

Batman slid the back of the visitor's chair under the handle of the door, quietly, so as not to alert the guard outside. He paused by the bed, allowing the tiniest hint of a smile to creep onto his normally stoic face.

"Get well soon, Joker," he said. "I'll look forward to my turn putting you into traction next. Why should Nightwing have all the fun?"

Coughs wracked the Joker's frame as he struggled to reach the call light. Even without feeling as if his insides were being ripped to shreds, his injuries didn't permit him enough movement. The police cuffs continued to keep his hand restrained with his call light now just out of reach.

Batman moved back toward the open window. "And here you thought I didn't have a sense of humor," he remarked as he climbed back onto the ledge and into the night.

He slid the window closed behind him before shooting his grapple line. He still had another few hours to patrol.

"Good one, Batsy," Joker choked out just as another round of violent coughing and sneezing overcame him as his body continued to hack up his lungs. "Good one . . . Ow! That hurt!"

REACTIONS? Come on, let's hear it!

Since Batman doesn't kill, this seemed like a good alternate choice . . . At least, until the Joker heals enough that Batman can take his turn exacting his revenge by returning the mad clown to his hospital room and another 6 months of traction.