"Hi-ii.."

Bruce stared at the the Joker on his doorstep in disbelief.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Now that's not very nice, Batman," He purred the vigilante's name, eyes gleaming with amusement at his reaction. "You don't greet all your visitors like that, do you?"

Bruce yanked the Joker off his feet by his jacket lapels and into the house, banged the door shut and slammed the Joker up against it. He may not be as capable as when he was the Batman, so the Joker may stand a pretty good chance, but so far he wasn't putting up a fight in the slightest.

"Oh yeah, that's it, now I know for definite you're the Batman, you big brute of a man, you," he giggled. "Nice to see you can still be yourself without the mask." The Joker rested his hands on Bruce's forearms, relaxed as ever.

Bruce ignored that last remark.

"How did you find me?"

"Does it really matter? I'm here now, so why don't we - "

He was cut off by Bruce pulling him from the door and slamming him twice as hard into the wall.

The Joker laughed shrilly, a little deliriously. "That's the stuff. I'll say it again, you just ne-verdisappoint." He looked at Bruce calmly, thoroughly enjoying the attention he was being paid despite the pain. "So what now, huh? You gonna kill me? You could, y'know. No-one'd ever know. Hell, you might have to. You've nothing to threaten me with, after all, as we discovered, and we can't have you exposed to Gotham, now can we? Think of all the chaos that would spark." He said, dark eyes gleaming.

Bruce glared back at him, seeing that gleam in his eyes and hating it, but released him and stepped back.

The Joker dropped ungracefully into a heap, banging his head as he went down. He made a small noise of discomfort and began to rub at his head, and then made an effort to get to his feet, just as the sharp pain below his ribs returned and overwhelmed him. He winced and then, as it subsided, leaned back against the wall and stretched his legs out.

Bruce watched this without comment, waiting for him to speak again, only to his annoyance the Joker blatantly ignored him, getting comfortable against the wall and looking around curiously.

"Well?" Bruce said impatiently, after several moments of this. "What do you want? Have you come to blackmail me?"

The Joker looked at him then, half amused, half put out. "Blackmail you? I'm not like that." He shook his head ruefully, as if hurt. "You're always so negative, Batman, so doom and gloom. Why so serious?"

Bruce ignored how that last sentence chilled him a little, putting it down to his nerves. "Just tell me what you want."

"Nothing!" The Joker insisted, holding his hands up. "I've no intention of exposing you, really. I give you my word." He paused to see how this went down, half expecting another slam into the wall, or maybe a kick in the ribs. Bruce was frowning. If there was one thing he knew about the Joker it was that he tended to keep his word.

The Joker smiled up at him cheerfully. "You look a little puzzled. Need a few moments to reflect, maybe? I'm not going anywhere."

"Oh yes you are," He growled, and stepped up to him. "Get up."

The Joker tried, grimacing, and then gave himself a few seconds to recover before trying again.

"Are you hurt?" Bruce asked him roughly.

"Yeah. You just slammed me into the wall."

"I've done worse than that. What's wrong with you?"

"No-thing," He sang. "Nothing at all. Just.. gi'me a minute." He rested his head on the wall again.

"Why have you come?"

The Joker considered a moment before replying. "Well, just to say hi, really, let you know I know. See how you'd react."

"Well, now you've done that, will you leave?"

The Joker laughed. "Such a good host," He said mockingly. "You know, when I first found out this was you, I had my doubts. I didn't think the Batman was someone - "

Bruce shot his hands round the Joker's throat, kneeling over his legs. He was in no meed to hear this, suit or no suit.

"Wow, look at you go," He choked out. "You just can't help yourself, can you? I bet you've missed this, I bet its been building up and up inside, am I right? Why don't you go get your suit on so we can have some real fun - "

He hit him then, backhand, hard. He knew he was going too far; the Joker hadn't really done anything this time, hadn't even broke in, but he couldn't help himself.

The Joker met his eyes again; their intensity was unsettling. As his temper faded, he became more aware of his current position; his knees on either side of the Joker's thighs, a hand on his throat, no longer squeezing.

Bruce immediately broke the eye contact and backed off, sure that the Joker knew what he had been thinking. The bastard always knew what everyone was thinking. He quickly resumed talking before the Joker could. "You really came just out of curiosity? What for? I'm not the Batman, not now."

"Not now?" He repeated. "You make it sound as though they were two different people."

"They are, in a way. But that's not what I meant. There's no Batman now."

"They don't seem all that different to me." The Joker remarked, ignoring his last comment. "Maybe I always bring out the Batman in you." He eyed him. He didn't know what was disturbing the Batman so badly, but he had an inkling it was the idea of losing control. He was on the brink of it, and it scared him. "So insecure! You're feeling so vulnerable right now, aren't you? There's no need to, though. You don't need to be the Batman to be who you really are. I mean, take you and me right now; you've been throwing me around easily enough, haven't you?"

"It's my identity I'm concerned about."

"I told you, it's safe with me. Wild horses won't drag it out of me, I promise."

"What reason have I got to trust you?"

He smiled sweetly and seemed to read his mind. "When have I ever broken my word?"

"When have you ever given it?"

"Loads of times! To you, to the mob, to whoever I'm..negotiating with."

"Manipulating, you mean."

"Why do you keep talking like one of them? There's not even anyone watching us this time." He paused. "If my word's not enough for you, think of it like this; if you were exposed to Gotham, that'd be it, the end. Where's the fun in that? I don't wanna lose you, see?"

He did. The Joker didn't want to break his favorite toy, of course.

He continued. "It's not that big a deal. I don't think any less of you, and it doesn't really change anything."

"I don't give a damn what you think of me." He said hotly.

The Joker looked at him for a moment and Bruce just looked back, unperturbed. The Joker didn't know him. He didn't know what he was talking about.

"Why do you think of it as a double life?" The Joker asked suddenly.

"I never said that."

"But you do, don't you?"

He didn't know why he answered him. Looking back, he didn't know why he conversed with the Joker at all, when he clearly should have been calling the police. "Because it's better than being like you, insane around the clock." He regretted that the instant it left his mouth.

The Joker sat up straight, his eyes gleaming. "And what do you mean by that, I wonder? That at least half of you's just like me?"

"I don't have time for this. I want you to leave, now." He snarled back.

"Of course you do. You always do, once our chats start to border on something uncomfortable, y'know like, the truth. And anyway, you have all the time in the world nowadays. Don't you?"

"Get out."

To his relief the Joker actually got up, or, at least, tried to. He staggered a few steps, Bruce catching him without thinking about it. The Joker's coat had come undone as he fell, exposing the bloody mess through his torn shirt.

"Jesus." He said, seeing it.

The Joker's knees buckled. He tried to reply, or laugh, at least, but could only cough up blood. "All over your nice carpet, sorry about that," He warbled, his head spinning. He felt himself being dragged further into the house.

"You need to go to hospital."

"Don't. It's stopped bleeding now. I'm a fast healer."

Bruce laid him on the sofa. "You can barely move. I can't just dump you outside the door."

"You could always just dump me off the roof," He suggested. "Do the world a favor and keep your identity safe. Two birds."

"Don't tempt me," He said dryly. "I don't kill." He left him.

The Joker sighed and closed his eyes, waiting for his pulse to slow down. He was still hurting, but not as badly. His lightheadedness had subsides a little too, but was he was still kind of faint, and too hot, much too hot. He jumped when he felt Bruce put something on his wounds. He hadn't heard him come back. "It will hurt now," He protested, squirming.

"Well you should've thought of that," He snapped back. "What happened, where you stabbed?"

"Yep," he said simply, tensing in his discomfort.

"Then why did you come here? Did you really expect me to help you?"

"I was fine when I came here," He shot back. "A little weak on my feet, maybe, but fine. It was only when you got rough with me that I got like this." He gestured at himself.

"Well, what did you expect?"

The Joker gave a small hiss of pain, flinching. Bruce saw, and went on with more care, forcing himself calm. He got to his feet. "You could have at least bandaged yourself." He told him disdainfully.

"Didn't have any," the Joker replied dully, his eyes wandering vaguely along the ceiling.

Exasperated, Bruce turned and went to get some, returning to find the Joker as he'd left him, his eyes still tracing patterns in the ceiling, his features settled into a kind of blank detachment. Bruce stepped up to him, wondering just how much blood he had actually lost, but then the Joker struggled to sit up and took the bandages from him.

"Thanks. This is all very courteous of you, Bruce, I'm impressed." And so saying he lifted his shirt and began wrapping up the wounds, struggling but evidently not wanting help.

"Don't call me that."

"Batman then, whatever." His strength was draining with his efforts, and by the time he'd secured the bandages his dizziness was back, and he lay down again weakly.

Bruce felt his forehead. "You're burning up. I think I'll take you to a hospital."

"Aw, no, don't do that.." He dragged out slowly, his words blurred and thick. "Come on, be a sport. I take..the trouble of...coming all the way here..to see you...and even promise...not to expose you...and to thank me you- "

"-try to save your life, seeing as you've so little regard for it yourself." He finished, pulling the Joker's arms, which were fidgeting with the bandages, down to his sides. "Take it easy." He remained restless for another minute or so, but eventually yielded and lay still.

Bruce observed him from a chair he'd pulled up, elbows resting on his legs, hands dangling between them.

"You're very quiet." The Joker said, after a bit. "What are you thinking?"

He eyed the Joker warily. "I'm thinking what the hell am I going to do with you."

"No hospital, please and thank you. You always have your roof, and the nice big drop next to it."

"I wouldn't patch you up just to throw you off a roof." He replied dryly.

This struck the Joker as highly amusing, and he started giggling, only to be stopped short by the pain it brought on.

"No, I know, I know." He drawled. "Yooou, don't want blood on your hands. That's your one rule, isn't it? If you can help it, never let anyone die. Now that may not be it word for word but that's the gist of it, right?"

"Stop talking, you'll make yourself worse."

"You mean I'm annoying you."

"That too, so shut up. I'm trying to think."

For once the Joker actually did shut up, and by the time Bruce spoke again he was almost asleep. "All right. No hospital."

"Now you're talkin'."

"You can stay here tonight."

The Joker laughed, then grimaced. That sharp pain again. "You're kidding."

"I wish I was." He growled. "If you're no better by morning I'm taking you to a hospital. Either way I want you gone."

And with that he left him.

The Joker blinked, raising his head slightly to see if he was actually going. That's it? He's just going to leave him? Free to steal, murder, maybe burn the house down? The pain in his abdomen contradicted him, making him wince again. Maybe not. He eased himself about until he was lying on his side, then sighed and shut his eyes.

Bruce listened from outside the door, his hand still on the knob. Was he really going to just leave him there? There wasn't much he could do in his condition, but still, it was taking a chance.

Then call someone, a little voice niggled. Do it now, while his guard's down. He pushed the thought away. He wouldn't be calling anybody, for reasons he didn't particularly want to get into.

He should have really put him in another room, a guest room maybe, so he could lock him in. There were all different doors in the room he was in now. He couldn't really lock him in though, in case there was a fire, or something. Besides, it wouldn't really be wise to move him any more than he had to, with all the blood he'd lost.

Eventually he came to the conclusion that he would go to bed but set his alarm for about three in the morning, and get up and check the manor was still standing.

Bruce slapped the alarm at 3am and groaned, coming to groggily. For a moment he stared at the seldom used alarm clock, wondering what in the hell had it done that for, and then remembering. He got to his feet and left his room, cautiously approaching the door to where he'd left the Joker. He fumbled for the light and saw the Joker on the sofa, curled up with his hair in his face. Bruce heaved a sigh of relief. The Joker clearly hadn't moved a muscle all night. He was exhausted, after all. He was about to turn off the light, but he felt a sudden compulsion to go over to him. He couldn't see if he was breathing from here.

He berated himself for his recklessness as he crossed the room to the Joker's side, but sighed in relief, regardless, when he could make out the rise and fall of his breathing. He placed a hand on his shoulder to feel it, to be sure. The Joker had been right about one thing; he did avoid death when he could.

He brushed back the green hair hair and felt his forehead, and cursed himself. He was still quite feverish, warm but shivering ever so slightly. He shouldn't have left him without a blanket or something. Especially not in a room as large as this. He didn't particularly want to wrap him up when he was asleep though. The Joker would taunt him endlessly in the morning for his pains.

Bruce brushed the rest of the hair off his face, his fingers lingering on his hair for perhaps longer than they should have, and he drew back, bit his lip.

He decided to bring him a blanket anyway. More compassion than he deserved, more than Bruce thought he'd be able to give. It had been a strange evening. Bruce covered him, holding his breath, and then, he didn't know why, felt his forehead again before he left, fingers brushing his hair again. He then put the heating on and returned to bed.

He felt wide awake as he lay there, on his back, going over the events of tonight, but was asleep within half an hour.

The Joker woke up early, the light from dawn shining in from the window and disturbing him. He groaned a little and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to bury away from it. The first thing he became aware of was that he was warm, much warmer than when he'd gone to sleep. He came to groggily, saw the blanket and was touched. More than anything he wanted to pull it back over him and go back to sleep. Despite the pain from last night, and what was still there this morning, it was the best sleep he'd had in months. He couldn't stay though. He was lucky to have woken up this early; he had to stay up if he wanted to get out before the Batman called the funny farm.

Well, no, he'd call the hospital, but when they were done with him they weren't likely to send him on his merry way, now were they? "No." He muttered, and eased himself off the couch. "Ow-ww.." He said as quietly as he could. The house was so silent and somehow serious. His 'ows' sounded almost comical in its grave depth.

He examined himself, grimacing. He wasn't sure if Bruce would consider this "no better" but certainly wasn't sticking around to find out. He looked around, spotted a notepad and pen. Perfect. He tore off a page and wrote, "Thanks a lot!" He paused, thinking. What else? His mind had gone blank. He just wanted to get out of here and sort these damn wounds out. He folded the blanket and left the note on top of it, crept quietly out the door. Bruce, a few rooms away, rolled over in his sleep, still dreaming.