Disclaimer - I don't own Batman Beyond, just this one-shot.

Enjoy.

The Danger of the Joker's Return.

As he stood in the heart of the Batcave, Ace whining worriedly near him as the sound of the footfalls of Terry running up the stairs faded into the silence which was broken only by the whirring of the power generators and the hum of the Bat-computer, Bruce Wayne couldn't take his eyes off of the backpack Terry had always worn which held the Bat suit thrown carelessly on the ground.

Bruce ground his teeth in frustration. Why, he thought to himself in frustration, is it I drive everyone away from me? First Dick, then Tim, then Barbara… and now Terry. Alfred had really taken me to task with Dick and Tim, especially after I manipulated Dick's life, and basically shoved Tim out of the manor but after what had happened with the Joker that night, could anyone blame me that I was doing it to keep him safe after everything that happened that night?

Bruce sighed and closed his eyes in shame, he had to admit to himself he hadn't explained his reasonings to Tim very well then any more than he had with Terry. He had simply not learnt from his mistakes.

It all stemmed from the simple fact he had not trained to have partners. Oh, he had been trained in escapology, martial arts, criminal investigation, forensic science and medicine, but fundamentally he had not bothered to learn how to tell people who mattered around him how he felt. Bruce hadn't planned originally to have a partner working with him directly in the first place. When he had begun to plan his Mission against crime which he would fight as Batman, Bruce had planned to do it all by himself. Back then he hadn't planned on any Robins, no Nightwings (alright, so Dick changed his crime-fighting image around, but that was beside the point), no Batgirls, and certainly no association with other heroes like his former work with the Justice League.

He had geared everything for a vigilante life alone.

Bruce had planned to have a quiet vigilante career; he would carry out the day-to-day operations at Wayne Enterprises, and at night whenever he wasn't at some stupid social event which didn't matter down the line anyway, he would be out on the streets as Batman.

He hadn't planned on events unfolding the way had - from his alliance with the Gotham police since he had known from the off that as a vigilante, he was officially breaking the law even though he wanted to stop another child from going through what he had at the age of eight, losing his parents. But what he had really not anticipated though he if he had then he would never have decided to adopt a costumed gimmick to fight crime, were the members in his Rogues Gallery.

Bruce had never expected when he had been training overseas all those years ago that he would be involved in a series of events where a common thug would fall into a vat of chemicals that bleached his skin white, scarring it permanently while dyeing his hair a permanent green while giving him a permanent grin, nor did he expect one of his friends would unintentionally drive a brilliant botanist who already had leanings towards eco-terrorism, and that said friend would have deep-rooted emotional and psychological problems which had split his mind into different personalities even before he became Two-Face, nor did he imagine that his activities would attract the attention of a centuries-old eco-terrorist who had spent those centuries watching as humanity tore the planet to bits, and that was before the mess of the Thanagarian occupation which had almost seen Earth become bits.

The only members of his rogue's gallery who had been human and sane as well as sure of themselves had been the Penguin and Catwoman.

He had also not bothered to learn how to handle kids, or even how to speak to them properly - he had always depended on Alfred for that. Bruce closed his eyes in remembrance of his old friend and fatherly figure, who had argued with him more than once in order to share his wisdom. But despite their arguments, Bruce had always depended on Alfred, and if he were still alive and had heard what he had just said to Terry, Bruce had no doubt Alfred would be arguing with him again even if Bruce's mind was made up.

It was made up, and hopefully, by stopping Terry from being Batman, the Joker wouldn't go after him. But deep down Bruce knew it wouldn't be that simple; the Joker was not stupid. It wouldn't take him long to find out who the new Batman was. And the Joker had never observed the boundaries, and he was not like anyone whom Terry had faced; Blight came close as did, to a degree, Shriek, but the Joker was more vicious than either of them.

Bruce rubbed his eyes tiredly, wondering why he was letting his mind wander with these thoughts when he was positive the Joker was dead after that final battle in the remains of Arkham Asylum all those years ago.

The Joker was dead. He had seen it happen, he had watched as Tim had pulled that trigger and shot the Joker through the heart, and although the Clown Prince of Crime had survived events which would have killed a normal human being, he'd only been able to do so by some stroke of luck but somehow he hadn't foreseen Tim's strength of character after torturing him for three weeks to twist the boy into a miniature version of himself.

The Joker was dead!

"Oh, no. Your old eyes do not deceive you, Brucie. After all, who'd know me better than you?"

Bruce shuddered as his mind recalled what the supposed Joker had said to him during that attack on Wayne Enterprises when he had prepared to retake control of his family's company after spending months working to undo the damage Paxton and Derek Powers had been doing during their tenure, and his mind had no trouble deducing what the Joker meant by that question.

The Joker knew he had been Batman.

That ruled out the Jokerz finding a sample of the original Joker's DNA, but then again Bruce had discounted that instantly because a clone wouldn't have the original's memories and experiences, never mind all the knowledge which had made the Joker such a homicidal psychopath. And the Jokerz thought the Joker was nothing more than an immature clown, much like they were. They were also a bunch of street thugs who would never have attacked a place like Wayne Enterprises; those other corporations dealing with communications technology were one thing, but they'd never have the nerve to go higher.

The Joker would. But if the Jokerz had found some of his DNA, enough to create a clone, then Bruce would believe it since it was plausible, but he wouldn't have the knowledge which had made him such a terrifying enemy. He wouldn't have had the knowledge of his chemical weapons like Joker Venom, which wouldn't be a downside considering just how many cemeteries had been filled up because of that toxic laughing gas.

If the Jokerz had cloned him, then he would have been just one of them; a street thug wearing clown makeup. So who was that thing who'd got up so close to him at Wayne Enterprises?

Was it possible Joker had somehow survived and had found a way to prolong his life-?

No.

It wasn't possible since Joker had never known Ra's Al Ghul and learned about the pits.

And yet….But he was dead, and yet who was running around who not only looked like the original Joker but sounded like him as well? How could he know that Bruce had been Batman?

And he likely knew about Barbara and Terry, but hopefully, with Terry out of the way, Joker would focus his attention on his old enemies. It was a forlorn hope since the Joker would probably target Terry, but hopefully, with the city's size, he wouldn't bother.

Bruce sighed and walked over to the Batsuit that Terry had thrown on the ground. In trying to keep Terry safe from the Joker, he had pushed away from the only person who could stop the Joker.

Bruce closed his eyes and picked up the backpack, wincing as his back ached and cursed his failing body's condition, and he put the pack by the table. He would have to fix up enough Joker Venom antitoxin at some point, but hopefully, Barbara would be telling the hospital's to keep on the lookout for anyone who'd been exposed to the gas. It would take time for them to delve through their files, but Bruce could effortlessly give them the formula if they'd lost it.

The Batcomputer chimed and Bruce glanced at the screen. It read 'Incoming Message.'

Bruce walked over to the computer, assuming it was Barbara, and pressed the button on the console while his mind sorted through the myriad of tasks ahead of him. "Wayne."

"Hello, Batman!"

Bruce felt as though his heart were about to stop when he heard the Joker's familiar voice. "Who are you?" he growled while he secretly activated the tracker - if he could find out where the call came from, he could tell Barbara and have her send some cops to the scene and maybe even find some clue that would lead to the Joker…

"Now that's not a nice thing to say to an old friend, is it?" the sneer in the 'Jokers' voice angered Bruce, but he pushed it aside.

"I know you are not the Joker. The real Joker died long ago," Bruce's voice grew louder with every word, but instead of being intimidated the Joker laughed briefly for the moment. "What do you want?" Bruce asked when he calmed down; shouting was not going to help.

"Do I need permission to speak to a friend?"

"We are not friends."

"No, we're more than that. We are two of a kind, two sides of the same coin. You can argue that we're not all you want, it doesn't make a difference. I just wanted to remind you I'm outside your home. I owe you for that night, Bruce."

The line went dead but Bruce was left standing watching the monitor before he checked the tracker. He ground his teeth in frustration when he saw it had been jammed from the other end, but then it had been a likelihood the Joker, or whoever was behind this had expected and planned for that.

The Joker hadn't bothered to tell him it was futile to make the trace because it would probably drive him mad to find out it hadn't worked.

But Bruce was more worried than ever. Whoever had sent that call to him knew about that night where the Joker had supposedly died. Bruce pushed aside all of the questions that were rushing through his mind, knowing that thinking about them would do him little to no good and besides he had work to do.

Somehow he had the feeling Terry would be back sooner than he thought…