A/N: Last chapter, loves! Hope you enjoy it. Reviews are much appreciated.

Seds

Derek sat in the passenger seat of the Tumbler, watching the bright lights of the Gotham night flash by. Batman stared straight ahead, focused on fluidly navigating the powerful vehicle between and around traffic. Finally, Derek couldn't stand the silence for another minute. He turned to face the masked man beside him and said, "I'm not judging you, man. But, I've studied human behavior for years, and I'm not having any luck understanding-what is it about the Joker? I mean, he's a killer. Why him? Why would you-"

The Bat's voice was low and gravelly. "He's not like any killer you've ever met. There's no textbook, no case study that explains him. He's... unique."

Derek made a scornful noise. "Maybe you haven't met as many serial killers as I have. They all have certain psychopathologies in common, every one of them can be placed in a particular category, and-"

Batman grunted in what might have been amusement. "You can't categorize the Joker."

Derek closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "All right-tell me, what makes him so different?"

"He doesn't kill for enjoyment, although he does enjoy it. He doesn't care about money, but he always makes a profit. And-he's certainly capable of anger, but I've never known that to be a motivating factor behind what he does."

"So, his actions are senseless, random?"

"No, absolutely not. Everything he does, he does for a reason."

"And, what reason is that?"

"It took me a long time to figure it out, but now I know. To the Joker, people-life-everything-it's all a big joke. And, he lives for the punch line."

"That's ridiculous."

"Maybe so. In fact, he'd probably agree with you. But, that's the Joker. Ridiculous, absurd... insane. But, definitely not senseless."

Derek gazed out the window and mulled that over for a moment. Then, he looked back at Batman. "All right, then, what makes you so special? Why is he obsessed with Batman?"

Batman continued to stare straight ahead. "I'm the only one who gets that the joke is on him." He sounded almost wistful.

Derek was no longer so certain that the Joker was the only one in need of intense psychiatric intervention, but he settled back and continued to watch the night rush by. Eventually, the hulking outline of Arkham appeared at the top of a hill, and Derek sat up straight. "Is that it? Is that the asylum?"

"Yes."

"It's... huge. How the hell will we find them?"

"Thanks to you, I know exactly where they are." Batman drove past the main gate, around to the rear delivery entrance. The gatekeeper barely looked up from his newspaper before allowing the vehicle to pass. The Tumbler came to a stop by a service door, and Batman jumped out, followed quickly by Derek.

"So-now what?" Derek asked.

"I'll go in first, you stay behind me. He's not expecting you-that's in our favor."

Batman opened the door and they peered into a pitch-black hallway. Derek huffed in exasperation. "We can't see, we'll be walking in blind-"

"Not quite. Stay with me." Batman activated his night vision, and Derek shook his head, but shadowed the vigilante's footsteps. The pathway was hot and smelled stale and musty; but, as they progressed, Derek spotted a light shining from under a doorway. Batman pointed.

"There."

The masked man put a staying hand on Derek's shoulder, then approached alone. He took an amplification tool from his belt and listened; on the other side of the door, he could hear the Joker's nasal tone going on about something, then Spencer's voice, strained but strong, answering back. He indicated success to Derek, then stepped away.

"They're in there; Spencer's okay, at the moment."

"Then, damn it, what're we waiting for? Let's go!"

"No. It's not that simple. We need to surprise him. That's a locked steel door, we couldn't open it without alerting him; besides, he's probably got it rigged."

"So, what do we do?"

"You stay here. I'm going in through the ceiling."

"Huh?"

"I'll get the door open as soon as I can."

Batman turned, and Derek hissed after him, "Hey-you don't even have a gun!"

"Don't need one." With that, the Bat disappeared, leaving a highly frustrated Derek pacing back and forth in almost total darkness.

Spencer knew he had to figure out a way to keep the Joker engaged in conversation as long as possible. Despite the blade at his cheek, he choked back his fear and said, "I don't understand. How do you think hurting me will bring Batman back to you?"

The Joker raised an eyebrow and twisted his lips thoughtfully. "Well-what would you do, if your boyfriend lost interest in you?"

"Lost interest? You really think Batman's lost interest in you?"

"Why else would he stop coming around? He's obviously found something a little more appealing to keep him busy. Something like... you."

"No-no, I don't think so. I think he just couldn't go on seeing someone whose behavior was in such conflict with his core values."

"Oh?"

"Yes. I mean-have you ever tried, you know-becoming the sort of person who doesn't kill people?"

The Joker frowned. "What?"

"I'm just saying, maybe if you changed your behavior, then Batman would feel more comfortable being in a relationship with you."

Staring upwards, the Joker took the knife and idly scratched at his own jaw, apparently giving Spencer's words due consideration. Spencer relaxed a bit, but stiffened again as the knife returned to his cheek. The Joker smiled.

"I bet you're right, kid. But, it doesn't work that way. I can't change who I am, any more than he can. So..." The Joker shrugged. "...back to getting ready for our little party..."

Spencer tried to maintain eye contact, but the madman began to teasingly trail the cold steel blade lightly over his cheek, and it made him shiver. He tried to pull away, but the Joker held his jaw firmly in place. Still, Spencer managed to control his voice.

"Wait-please don't do this! Let's talk about you and Batman a little more-I really think things could work out between the two of you-you just have to decide what you want. Think about it, what's more important to you, Batman or-"

"Sh-sh-sh. Easy now-never mind about all that, let's focus on the task at hand. Nothing like a couple of scars to add some... interest to an otherwise dull face." The Joker leaned in and whispered in Spencer's ear. "And, trust me. Your sweetie? He's going to love it." He giggled, then placed the knife just under Spencer's cheek bone. He frowned with concentration, his pink tongue wetly sliding over his garishly-painted lips as he prepared to create his masterpiece. Spencer gasped as he felt the tip of the blade prick into his skin.

Just then, the heel of a heavy black boot smashed through an air vent in the concrete ceiling. Batman lithely dropped through, cape fluttering down behind him. He rasped, "Let him go."

The Joker looked up, seemingly irritated. "Bats! Here already? I haven't finished preparing your little gift! Why don't you run along and give us a few more minutes, then he'll be all ready for you, and-"

"Drop the knife, Joker. Now."

Spencer was shocked; Batman's presence was overpowering, commanding-it didn't seem possible that easy-going Bruce Wayne could be under that mask. But, the Joker didn't budge. He moved the knife to Spencer's throat, positioning it over the carotid artery. "Well, you spoiled the surprise, Batsy, but if you want to join in the festivities, that's fine with me..." He looked down at Spencer, cradling his head against his chest, and Spencer uselessly attempted to pull away. "Shh, kid, it's okay-just a little nick in the right place, and you'll be out of the game in-"

"Four minutes. Death by exsanguination typically occurs within four minutes." Spencer woodenly recited the statistic; he couldn't help himself.

The Joker chuckled, then rested his chin on Spencer's head. "Yeah. Four minutes. There's a good little doctor." He smiled up at Batman; the masked man saw a thin line of blood appear as the knife began to split Spencer's flesh.

Batman raised a hand and a bat-a-rang shot into the Joker's face. He dropped the knife and fell to the floor, laughing madly. The Bat hastened to put himself between the Joker and Spencer, then turned his back to the clown and quickly released Spencer's right hand from the restraint. Just as he turned back, the Joker rose to his feet with a lead pipe in his hand. He lunged at Batman and hit him across his jaw, making him stumble backwards.

Spencer opened the strap on his left hand, then freed his feet. He dragged himself off of the hospital bed and tottered woozily, then limped toward the exit. The Bat and the Clown were locked in combat near the chugging old boiler, and Spencer unlocked the heavy steel door and opened it. He was bathed in yellow light from the room behind him, and Derek had a nightmare vision of a wild-eyed clown coming at him. He stuck a gun in Spencer's throat and shoved him against the hallway wall.

"Back up, clown."

For a moment, Spencer couldn't believe his eyes. Could it really be? Derek Morgan, here in the bowels of Arkham-ready to blast his head off?

"No! Derek-it's me! Spencer!" With the barrel of Derek's Glock at his neck, he was beginning to wonder if he was simply destined to die today, in one violent way or another. Derek stared suspiciously into his eyes, then slowly lowered the weapon.

"Spencer? Is that really you?"

"Yeah-he made me up like this. Hurry, Derek-we have to help Bruce."

Derek's face was set in grim lines. That maniac had been alone with his boy for a long time-Derek's mind was reeling with thoughts of what might have occurred. He gripped Spencer's shoulders and searched his face. "Tell me what he did to you."

Spencer knew what he was asking. "Nothing! I mean-nothing sexual." Derek relaxed slightly, and Spencer ran a hand over Derek's cheek. "He shot me in the leg, he used his knife to mark my chest, and he was just about to... carve my face when Batman dropped in, but-I'm fine. Now, come on, let's go-" He moved back toward the boiler room.

Derek observed Spencer's limp and shook his head. "No, you're hurt. You stay out here." Derek approached the doorway, gun raised, but he stopped short before entering. He stayed in the shadow of the hallway and beheld the sight within. Batman had slammed the Joker flat on his back onto the hospital bed and was now straddling him. But, instead of fighting back, the Joker was trying to pull the Bat closer to him as he looked up into his eyes.

"Come on, Bats, this is like old times, isn't it? Remember? It was right here, on this creaky old bed, the first time we-"

"Stop it. You're insane, there's no hope for the two of us. You're going back to a padded cell, that's all." The tone wasn't angry or even the authoritarian growl Derek had heard before. It was strangely gentle, and... sad.

"No, no, no." The Joker giggled as the Bat clamped a pair of handcuffs onto his wrists. "You and I are going to be together. Forever. Starting in about, oh-five minutes."

A cold feeling went over Batman. He stared down at the Joker. "What did you... do?"

"The boiler, Bats! I kind of expected you to be a little uncooperative. So, I rigged the valve on the furnace-steam's building up, and in a few minutes, it's going to... blow." The Joker lapsed into wheezing giggles as Batman leaped to his feet, pulled the Joker off the bed and dragged him toward the door.

"Morgan! Get Spencer and get out of here!"

Derek turned, bent low, and put Spencer's arms around his neck from behind. "Come on, kid, hop up." He pulled him onto his back, and the four dashed down the hallway to the outside, just as the creaky old boiler exploded, tearing apart the very sub-structure of the east wing of Arkham. Alarms began blaring, and people began pouring out of the doors as evacuation procedures were initiated. After a few minutes, emergency vehicles began streaming onto the property with their lights flashing and sirens sounding, and dozens of urgent voices melted into a bewildering cacophony as doctors, nurses and security guards attempted to herd patients out of the danger zone.

Away from the hubbub, Batman kept a secure hold on the Joker, who was watching the chaos unfold with an expression of utter glee. Derek helped Spencer to stand beneath a security light and began to examine his wounds. Spencer gestured at the bloody smiley face on his belly and drew a ragged breath.

"He made sure we'll never be able to forget. I'm sorry, Derek-you were right, I shouldn't have come to Gotham."

Derek tenderly traced a finger over Spencer's cheek, where a pinprick wound was leaking red into the white paint. "No. You and I know better than anybody that there's no predicting when insanity'll touch you. And, don't you think for a minute that what happened here will come between us. Scars fade. If anything, they'll be a reminder of how precious you are to me, and how important it is to make every second count. When we get home-I want to start over with you, Spencer. I want us to be together. For real. No more being 'casual,' okay?"

A slow smile crossed Spencer's made-up face and he nodded. "Yeah. I want that, too. I love you, Derek."

"I love you, too, babe. Now, let's get that shit off of your face, it's creeping me out." He helped Spencer limp to an ambulance. He fended off a police officer who thought he'd found the Joker (This is the Joker's victim, man-can't you see he's got no scars?) and got the EMTs to tend to his leg, his chest and the slice on his neck, while Derek found a towel and some soap and water and began carefully scrubbing away the makeup. He looked up and saw Batman and the Joker slip off to the Tumbler. He glanced around for the cop, but Spencer shook his head.

"Let them go," he said softly.

"What? No! The Joker's getting away, we-"

"It's okay. You know that Bruce-I mean, Batman-will deal with him properly. But, first, I suspect they need a little time to work things out between them, don't you?"

Derek was stunned. "But..." He saw the certainty in Spencer's eyes, and after struggling for a moment, Derek finally shrugged. "I guess so." He watched the stealthy vehicle disappear into the night, and a puzzled frown crossed his face. "They... love each other, don't they?"

"Well-there's a thin line between love and madness," Spencer said ruefully, looking down at the multi-colored stains on the towel in Derek's hand. "I'm pretty sure I know at which end of the spectrum their relationship lies."

Derek tossed the towel aside. "Yeah. They're both crazy, if you ask me. In fact, this whole town is wacko. Let's get out of here, babe. Or, do you still want to go sightseeing in the morning?" He grinned for the first time since Spencer had left him earlier that day.

Spencer vehemently shook his head. "I want to go home. With you. I'll never return to Gotham again."

"Not even to interview the Joker for one of your papers?"

"No. Believe me-I have all the information I could ever want about the clown."

The EMT finished dressing Spencer's wounds, gave him a set of scrubs to wear, and a crutch. Spencer gratefully turned over the bloodied white coat to an officer, then ran his fingertips over his face. It felt raw from the scouring Derek had given it, but it was good to be himself again. He hobbled over to Derek and looked him in the eye.

"Derek-I... Something happened, before the Joker. It's something I'm ashamed of, that I deeply regret, and-"

"You kissed Bruce Wayne."

Spencer stared. "Yes-how did-"

"He told me. He didn't want to-but, when Derek Morgan interrogates somebody, they spill it. Even Batman."

Spencer bit his lip worriedly. "I'm so sorry. All I can say is that... I don't know, I'd been drinking, and you'd hung up on me, and I just sort of let things get away from me. But, I swear to you-nothing else would have happened. You have to believe me, Derek-I don't want anyone else, ever." He looked into Derek's eyes. "Can you forgive me?"

Derek smiled. "Baby, all I care about is having you safe and sound again. I just want to bring you home." He took Spencer in his arms and held him until an officer came to take Spencer's statement; Derek went to make arrangements to get them back to Quantico as quickly as possible.

They left the chaos of Arkham without a look back.

Two weeks later...

It had been a long day. Spencer had gone back to work on crutches, and was already immersed in the details of a disturbing new case. But, being able to go home with Derek lent a wonderful sense of normalcy to the evening, and he was happily watching the news with his lover. They'd had cocoa, and now Spencer was lying on the couch with his head resting in Derek's lap. Derek was absently playing with Spencer's hair, waiting for the sports portion of the show to come on.

Neither was paying much attention to the newscast, when the Joker's picture flashed onto the screen. The announcer intoned, "And, in other news, the notorious Gotham criminal known as the Joker has been apprehended after being at large for the last two weeks. He was delivered to Arkham Asylum by an individual whose identity could not be determined, and who left the scene before officials could get a statement.

"The Joker's return follows an anonymous gift of funds to rebuild the east wing of Arkham, which was destroyed in a mysterious explosion during which the Joker made his escape. A stipulation of the donation was that a special high-security cell be built to house the Joker, but we've heard reports that it will be more like a luxury suite than a padded cell, including such amenities as a queen-sized bed and mini-fridge. Asylum officials have not confirmed the rumor."

Spencer sat up. "Wow. I guess Bruce came up with a way to allow Batman and the Joker to carry on their relationship."

Derek shook his head disgustedly. "Well, that's just great. The psychopathic freak and the guy running around in bat-pajamas find happiness in the loony-bin. That just makes my day."

"Yeah... I know it seems weird, but I'm happy for them."

Derek gave a huff of exasperation. "You know, I think you're about as crazy as they are! How can you be happy about anything having to do with the creep that shot and kidnapped you, and that nut-case playboy vigilante?"

"Well... in spite of the pain and terror, I found the whole experience incredibly enlightening. And, you know that a team of top psychiatrists will be studying the Joker's case-who knows what they might discover about the aberrant mind?"

"If they live to tell about it."

"Good point. Well, as murderous as the Joker is, he's really very controlled. I don't think he'll do anything that might drive his Bat away from him."

"Really."

"Yes. In fact, I pointed out to him that he and Batman stood a better chance of working things out if he stopped killing people."

"Wait-you gave the Joker relationship advice?"

Spencer nodded. "Yes, and while he wasn't very receptive at the time, I think he may have come around to my point of view. What I observed during my time as the Joker's captive was that he's highly organized and reasoned. His whole purpose in kidnapping me was to attract Batman's attention-I was little more than a... prop, like in a vaudeville stage act. Or, maybe, a magician's hapless assistant. I don't think he was particularly interested in killing me, although he certainly would have, had it furthered his intentions."

"Which were?"

"To get Batman to realize his true feelings for him."

"So, why'd he paint you up to look like him?"

"The Joker is such a narcissist that he can only imagine being replaced by someone exactly like himself, but better. He wanted to force Batman to see what he was doing, and to put a stop to it."

"I got to tell you, man, that whole deal is amazingly fucked up. I think Jim Gordon knows who Batman is, and I think he kind of... enabled all this to happen." Derek gestured at the television. "What do you think?"

"I really don't know, but of course, it's possible."

Derek sighed. "I said it before, and I'll say it again-Gotham's one crazy place."

"I can't argue with you there." Spencer rose to his feet. "Hey, did the mail come today?"

"Yeah-I threw it on the table."

"Anything for me?"

"Don't know, babe-I was so tired, I didn't even look at it."

Spencer hobbled to the table and picked up the stack of mail. Bills. Ads. And... a letter, addressed to "Dr. Spencer Reid." He turned it over and over; the return address was "Wayne Enterprises, Gotham, USA." He glanced at Derek. The other man was watching him curiously. Spencer tore open the envelope.

"What'd you get?" Derek asked.

"It's a letter. From... Bruce Wayne."

"Shit." Derek came to stand beside him. "What does he say?"

Spencer began reading out loud.

"'My dearest Spencer... I know you're not taking my calls, and I don't blame you. But, I really do need to apologize for my forward behavior after the dinner party. I realize now that I should have considered the possibility that you were in a relationship. I'm so very sorry to have put you in such an awkward situation. I sincerely hope that you and Derek are doing well, and that you will be happy together.'"

Derek squeezed his fists. "That bastard. I should have-"

"Sh! There's more. 'Spencer, I have been very worried about you in the aftermath of your traumatic experience at the hands of the Joker. I hope you are recovering. I want you to know that Batman is seeing to the Joker's care in Arkham and that he is no longer a threat to anyone. You may rest assured that he won't escape again. I cannot fully express my regret that you were subjected to his madness, nor can I thank you enough for all your help. You've done more good than you know.

'Suffice to say, I am forever in your debt, and if there is anything I can do for you-ever-please contact me immediately.

'Best wishes,

'Bruce.'"

Spencer stared at the letter for a long moment, then looked at Derek, who was quietly seething. "'Bruce,'" he mimicked. "Gotham's Chief Wacko, he ought to say. He belongs in that freak-house, right alongside the Joker."

"Maybe so." Spencer folded the letter and put it back in the envelope. He was glad Derek didn't ask him to show it to him. He knew he'd go ballistic if he saw the little smiley face, drawn in red ink-he hoped it was ink-in the lower left-hand corner. "It's interesting-Bruce seems to maintain a detachment from his Batman persona," Spencer mused aloud.

"Now, don't you go psychoanalyzing him. I want you to forget the entire incident." Derek put his arms around Spencer. "You belong to me, now-no more Gotham craziness for you."

Spencer laughed. "Yeah, just good old, garden-variety psychopaths and serial killers, eh?"

"That's right." Derek ran his hand over Spencer's cheek, remembering the now-invisible pinprick left by the Joker's knife. "I love you." They smiled at each other, then kissed tenderly. Derek gave him a tight squeeze, then asked, "Spencer?"

"Hm?"

"You think your leg's well enough for us to... get friendly? You know-in bed?"

"I think so." Spencer raised his hand to his chest and traced the nearly-healed wounds left by the Joker's artwork. "I'm keeping my t-shirt on, though."

Derek looked him in the eye. "You don't have to. But, if it makes you feel better, go ahead."

Spencer nodded, and with their arms around each other, they headed to their bedroom. Spencer dropped the letter in the trash on the way.

Three months later...

In a big comfortable bed in a freshly constructed high-security cell in the new east wing of Arkham, the Joker lay naked, cradled in Batman's arms. Thoroughly sated from an extended round of love-making, he stretched lazily and asked, "You ever think about ol' whats-his-name?"

Batman frowned. "Who?"

"You know. The doctor."

"No."

"Really?" The Joker lifted his head and searched the dark eyes. "Glad to hear it. What about the other one?"

"What other one?"

"The doc's boyfriend. Uh-Morgan, was it?"

"Oh. No, I don't think about him, either."

"Mm." The Joker settled against his lover's powerfully-muscled chest. "Too bad."

"Why?"

"I was thinking... Threesome?"

The Bat sighed and shook his head. "You really are insane, aren't you?"

The Joker laughed. "Takes one to know one, baby." He reached up and grabbed the Bat's lower lip between his teeth in a vicious kiss, then curled up, cat-like, and closed his eyes.

Due to certain features which the anonymous donor had specified in the blueprints for Arkham's reconstruction, the Bat was able to come and go as he pleased. And, as he'd promised the Joker during their two-week knock-down-drag-out fight/romantic getaway, he'd become a regular-and frequent-visitor. For his part, all the Joker had to do was hold up his end of the bargain.

He smiled at the thought.

He didn't know if that Dr. Reid really was a genius or not, but he had to hand it to him-he'd definitely given him some excellent advice. Sometimes, it just took an outsider to put things into perspective. He really wanted to thank him for that.

One of these days, when he had phone privileges again, he'd have to give him a call.

-The End-