A/N: Oh, holy cats. It's been ages... But, I've never forgotten this story-I just ran into a case of killer writer's block, then got busy with another fandom (will the Joker be angry that I've been cheating on him? Gaak!) Anyway, all apologies, hope there are a few of you still interested. Thank you to the lovely h0use-m0use for inspiration and encouragement. This will be nearing the end-maybe two more chapters coming up. Again, sorry for disappearing... Please review!

Seds

"What's this all about?" Batman's rasp cut through the hubbub of the late-night shouts and sirens. Jim Gordon shielded his eyes from the flashing fire engine lights, looked at the vigilante, and frowned.

"What do you mean? It's fairly straightforward. Another one of Falcone's goons went off the deep end."

"It's the third time this has happened. Once was strange. The second time was suspicious. This-this is insane."

Gordon raised an eyebrow. "What are you suggesting?"

"Need to do a little digging."

Gordon pulled off his soot-flecked glasses and cleaned them with the sweat-soaked tail of his shirt. "And, how, exactly, do you intend to-" He looked up. He sighed.

Batman was gone.

A week later...

Bruce Wayne was in his study with Alfred. They were both staring at a TV screen, incredibly bored expressions on their faces.

"What is it I'm supposed to be looking for again, sir?" Alfred asked.

"I honestly don't know. Something. Anything unusual."

Alfred hmph'd. "We're watching the ingress and egress to that Falcone fellow's hideout. I would think everything would be unusual."

"Unusual in mobster terms, I mean," Bruce clarified.

Alfred was quiet for several minutes, intently watching... nothing. They'd been at it for what seemed like forever, with the footage running at eight times normal speed. They'd gone through two 24-hour periods and were working on the third. Alfred was feeling the beginnings of a headache pricking him behind his eyes. He cleared his throat and stood up.

"Well, sir, this is absolutely fascinating, but there are dishes to be seen to, silver to be polished-"

"Sit down. I need a second pair of eyes, I might miss something."

Alfred sighed, but did as he was told. The seconds ticked on; a moment of excitement came when a pizza delivery car showed up, and Bruce slowed the footage to normal. But, unless there was something unseemly going on with three boxes of large pizzas, it appeared to be a normal transaction.

The men settled back and watched for another thirty long minutes. Alfred was at the point of being certain that it was, indeed, possible to expire from boredom, when a black car appeared on the screen. It pulled up to the rear entrance of the hideout, and Bruce adjusted the video speed back to normal.

A man stepped out, and Bruce sat up straighter. Alfred felt a surge of hope.

"Do you recognize him, sir?"

"Yes-I've seen him before. Not sure where... Wait a minute." Bruce was tensed in concentration. He ran the video back and paused at the exact second where the man got out of his vehicle, the one opportunity he offered the camera to capture his face. Bruce expanded the image, and stared intently for a long moment, then whispered, "Crane."

"Crane, sir?"

"From Arkham. I was introduced to him one day while meeting with Jack's doctor. Didn't think much of him-he seemed like an overly-ambitious, pompous little pipsqueak. What the hell could he be doing at Falcone's place?"

Alfred gave Bruce a knowing look. "I have a feeling you won't rest until you find out."

Three months earlier...

Dr. Crane was frustrated. He'd wangled a meeting with Dr. Schwartz, the Joker's head psychiatrist, and it was not going well.

"I simply wish to be put on his case rotation, Dr. Schwartz." Crane did his best to contain his irritation, but his voice was strained and his words were clipped. "I know I could learn so much from observing your techniques."

"I'm afraid that will not be possible," the older man replied in his thick German accent. Dr. Schwartz was a man of great intelligence, and he had little respect for Dr. Crane. He considered him to be a man with more ambition than substance, full of conniving schemes that would place him in a good light rather than produce solid, long-term results. There was no way he would allow Crane anywhere near any of his patients, especially someone on such a complex and experimental course of treatment as the Joker.

"But-"

"Good day, Dr. Crane. If you are really interested in studying my techniques, I would recommend that you read a few of my case studies. I'll have my secretary provide them for you... on your way out." The white-haired doctor nodded his dismissal, and turned back to his computer. Crane was left with nothing to do but to get up and leave.

Back to the present...

It was late in the evening, well past visiting hours, but that was of no concern to Bruce. The Arkham staff had long ago become accustomed to his comings and goings, and they now simply treated him as they would a consulting physician or psychiatrist with full access credentials.

Which was handy, sometimes. But, most of the time, Bruce only wanted access to Jack.

Like now. He lay on top of him, powerfully thrusting in and out of the lithe body beneath him; Jack was furiously, erratically, meeting each deep stroke with a powerful thrust of his own, scraping long nails into the soft flesh on Bruce's back, making low, throaty noises punctuated with giggles as Bruce brought him closer and closer to orgasm. The hospital bed creaked and shuddered, the iron headboard banged away against the wall. "Damn it, Wayne-move!" he choked after a close call ebbed away.

Bruce rasped, "I am!"

"Harder!"

"Jack, I'm afraid I'll hurt you." Bruce had once hoped that the day would come when they would be able to enjoy making love without either of them walking away bruised or bloody, but...

"Fuck, so what?" Jack wriggled aggressively. "Like a little pain..." he muttered irritably.

Bruce sighed, but he redoubled his efforts and was happy to hear Jack grunt in release after only a few more minutes. Bruce then managed to attend to his own needs, filled the condom, and pulled out. He rolled over onto his back, panting. Jack stretched contentedly, threw a skinny leg possessively over Bruce's, and groaned. "That... was some kind of wonderful, big guy. Once you finally got going."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. What the hell's the matter with you, I thought I had you trained."

"Apparently, I need a few more lessons."

"Well, happy to oblige. I have some pretty intense homework I could assign you..."

Bruce chuckled, then disengaged himself from his lover's leg and sat up. Jack fixed him with a glare.

"Going somewhere?"

"No, actually-I wanted to talk to you."

"Talk?" Jack snorted. "I got my jollies, now I want to go to sleep. What the hell do you want to talk about?"

"Jonathan Crane."

Jack's cranky protests halted; he sat up as well and looked at Bruce with interest.

"Crane? What about him?"

"You know him?"

Jack laughed. "He's been sniffing around. I caught him sneaking peeks into my case file while Doc Schwartz was busy asking me how my psychosis was going. Why? You got a hard-on for him or something?"

Bruce rolled his eyes. "No. But, I believe he's involved with Falcone, somehow. There's something odd going on with those men who've been admitted lately-they all present with the same symptoms, and they're all known Falcone associates. I-well, Batman-set up a surveillance system on their hideout, and Crane was spotted going in and staying a while. A few hours later, another one of the 'family' went psychotic and was admitted here. Have you heard anything?"

Jack scratched at one of his scars and pursed his lips thoughtfully. "No. Those guys were so wrecked when they came in, they just threw them in the deep freeze and left 'em there. You want me to... make some discrete inquiries?" He gave Bruce a merry grin, and Bruce grinned back.

"'Discrete' being the key word. Don't call undue attention to yourself; sorry, I know that's a challenge for you."

"I love a challenge. Don't worry, I can do subtle. I'll see what I can... dig up. Since you're asking so nicely."

"Thanks." Bruce tugged him into an embrace and kissed him. "Nice to have somebody on the inside."

"Well, I'm not normally a snitch, but that Crane's a piece of work." A look of distaste crossed Jack's face. "I kind of hate him."

Bruce frowned. "Just see if you can connect him to Falcone, please. No going off on creative tangents."

"Mmm, whatever." Jack pushed Bruce back onto the mattress, snuggled against his muscular chest and was soon asleep. Bruce waited until he was deeply under before extricating himself, getting dressed, and slipping out. He thought he might go on a little information recon, himself. He'd see what he could find, then come back and say a proper goodnight to the clown-or face his wrath, later.

Bruce chuckled ruefully.

Sometimes, Jack's wrath was awfully close to incredible sex.

Later that same night...

Since he'd been unable to gain access to the Joker through legitimate means, Crane had decided to take a different approach. He'd attempted to throw his weight around with the Joker's key-holding attendants; infuriatingly, they had just laughed at him.

Then, he'd tried bribery.

To his disgust and amazement, not one would go for his offer. He wasn't sure if the Joker's fame had them so cowed that they dared not risk any sort of slip-up in his care, or if the wretched clown had somehow managed to magically enchant the team to the point that they were determined to shield him from unauthorized interference, but...

Either way, it was humiliating.

After all, he was smarter than they were. So, Crane did the next logical thing-late one night, he stole an attendant's overalls and keys, and made his way up to the Joker's floor. He darted around the nurses' station at the entry and snuck down the hallway to the Joker's room. He let himself in as quietly as possible, and closed the door behind him. He stood there for a moment, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

He could make out the shape on the bed that was the Joker and smiled to himself. He took a hypodermic needle out of his pocket and slunk over to the unmoving figure. The room was illuminated only by the security lights shining in from outside the window, but he could tell the Joker was sleeping on his back with his face turned toward the window. He made his way around to the other side of the bed and removed the needle's cover. He held it up to the light, checking the dosage-he liked to have things exact (after all, this was research, technically)-but, just as he was about to reach for Jack's arm, a strong hand shot out from under the covers, grabbed his wrist, and yanked him downward.

The doctor cried out as something hard and bony connected with his jaw. He saw stars and dropped even lower, until he was on his hands and knees on the floor. The needle rolled under the bed. Jack slid out from under the covers and turned on a light. He knelt down, jerked Crane's head backward by the hair and peered into his face.

"What exactly do you think you're doing?"

"You-you're going to be in a lot of trouble, attacking an orderly-"

Exaggeratedly, Jack took a good look at the man's face and raised an eyebrow in delighted amusement. "Hey, pal-I may be crazy, but I'm not stupid. Or, forgetful."

Jack twisted Crane's arm behind his back, causing him to cry out again. He was in enough pain that he didn't even protest when Jack dug his wallet out of his pocket. Jack then forced him face down onto the floor and restrained him with a foot on the back of his neck as he extricated an ID card and examined it. He bent down to show it to his struggling captive, who was beginning to wheeze in panic.

"Ah, see there? I thought you looked familiar. According to this, you're Dr. Jonathan Crane, M.D." The Joker proceeded to sit down and straddle the man's back as he reflected thoughtfully. "Hm, sounds like you're a bit overqualified to be an orderly. And, I've never had an orderly try to administer medication before. Sooo... I only have one question. What's in your little syringe, Doc?" Jack reached under the bed and retrieved the needle, then held it in front of Crane's face, waggling it teasingly.

It occurred to Crane that he was in a dire situation. After the mayhem the Joker had been responsible for in the past, sticking a doctor with his own poison-filled needle wouldn't faze him. And, never having personally sampled the product, Crane couldn't be sure that he'd be coherent enough-ever-to get access to the antidote he'd made. He blinked past the pain in his jaw to turn his head and try to catch the Joker's eye.

"Please-let me go."

Jack's eyes narrowed. "But, you didn't answer my question. So here's another. You're doing business with Falcone. Why?"

"I'm not! I wouldn't-why would I do business with a criminal?"

Jack scrunched up his nose. "You know, I hate liars. Falcone's little playmates have been streaming in here for weeks, their brains scrambled but good." Jack looked at the syringe. "Why do I think whatever potion you've got here has something to do with that?" Jack's disquietingly good-natured tone suddenly shifted to a menacing growl. "You came here to fuck me up, didn't you, Doc? Why? What'd I ever do to you?"

"Nothing! I didn't! I was just-"

"Sh-sh-sh." Jack hauled the smaller man to his feet, giving his arm another twist. Crane whimpered pathetically. Jack shoved him face down onto the bed and rested his weight on Crane's ass. "Now, I've got a couple of options for you, Doc. Multiple choice. Which would you prefer? A. I can pump this concoction into your bloodstream, and see you 'round the good ole supervised recreation room every day after lunch with the rest of the wackos, or, B. I can fuck you-" Jack made a show of thrusting his hips against the doctor's vulnerable backside-"like the little punk that you are, or, C., you can tell me what the hell you're up to. The truth. All of it. Now, what'll it be?"

"I'm not doing anything! Nothing! I swear to you-please! Please, just let me go!"

"Were you not paying attention? That is not one of the options!" Jack frowned disapprovingly, then bent lower to whisper in Crane's ear. "Okay, I'll choose for you. Since I don't happen to have a condom handy, and I doubt you're exactly picky about your mating habits, we'll go with 'dose of whatever's in the syringe' for our prize today." Jack gripped Crane's arm and raised the needle into position. "Hope you at least get a little buzz off this stuff, huh?" He started to plunge it into the man's flesh, but Crane squeaked, "No! I'll talk! I'll talk!"

"Yeah? Well-all right." Jack moved the needle so that it rested against Crane's neck. "Go ahead."

"Uh... Well, I developed a... serum, that was supposed to reduce the effects of psychosis on mental patients. But, I made a mistake-and it had the opposite effect. And, on normal people, it actually creates the condition!" Crane's voice actually sounded excited, in spite of his situation.

Jack frowned. "So-you're making Falcone's goons crazy? Why?"

"When Falcone gets convicted of his crimes-and, he will-he'll have himself injected with the serum, and get admitted to Arkham. But, he'll have an army in here with him-then, I'll administer the antidote to them all, and he'll be able to take over the place. That's his plan."

Jack leaned in closer. "So-why Arkham? What's the point of being in here? He could break out of the joint with a lot less trouble."

Crane's rapid breathing increased even more as he thought of yet another of his humiliations the Joker was responsible for. He didn't answer at first; then, he felt the point of the needle being teasingly pressed against his jugular vein. "He wants you!" he blurted out.

"Me?"

"Yes... he considers you... valuable. He wants you on his team. Thinks that with your 'expertise,' he'll be... unstoppable." Crane's bitterness bled through his fear.

Jack chuckled. "But-I'm being a good boy, nowadays."

"Yes. He knows that."

"So-you were going to send me back to la-la land?"

Crane huffed disgustedly. He hated having the credit for his devious plan diverted to Falcone, but he had a feeling that telling the Joker the real reason he'd intended to inject him with his psychotropic agent would not be met with good cheer.

"It wasn't my idea! Falcone forced me to do it!"

"That why you've been getting so chummy with Doc Schwartz?"

"Uh-"

"You've been trying to take a crack at me for a long time, way before you hooked up with Falcone." Jack leaned closer, so that his lips were almost touching Crane's ear. "I think you're lying to me again."

"No! No, I swear, I had no choice! I-"

"Yeah. Well, it doesn't really matter." Jack suddenly stood up and back, releasing the doctor. He sprang to his feet, his only thought being to make it to the door. He had just maneuvered himself to step around the end of the bed, when Jack stuck his foot out. Crane tripped and fell to the floor; Jack knelt, jammed the needle into Crane's neck and squeezed the plunger, releasing the contents of the syringe into the doctor's blood stream.

"You were going to keep me from seeing my kid, weren't you, Doc? That's... a little hard to stomach, even for me." Jack gracefully rose to his feet, dropped the syringe, then plumped his pillows, settled back on his bed, and watched as Crane's muscles contorted.

"No," gasped Crane. "Oh, God, no, no, no..." He raised himself and turned to stare back at the implacable face of... a horrific vision of a clown.

It was the screaming that brought the orderlies running.