overlithe (overlithe) wrote in batmanjoker, @ 2009-08-07 10:44:00 |
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Original poster: saint_uto
Title: Awkward Child
Summary: It is a simple human reaction, where one will attach themselves to another being so they may not be alone.
Pairing:The Joker/Bruce Wayne
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I own neither Batman or the beautifully done Arkham Asylum: A Serious House on Serious Earth. That one goes to Grant Morrison and Dave McKean.
Warnings:hint of dub-con
A/N: This is a companion to Lonely Boy, although it does not follow the storyline, but still has the same elements. Also, before anyone goes off about this, there are some direct lines from Arkham Asylum: A Serious House on Serious Earth in this. If you know which lines they are, you spent your money well.
It is terribly strange, the dreams that Bruce has, as they are not normal ones, to say the least. They are not dreams that children have, ones where they are flying across the peaks of mountains or falling down in darkness, only reaching the bottom when they fall off the edge of the bed. They are not dreams of adults, where soft colors of blue and yellow float on the skin of closed eyelids, as adults have lost the power to have dreams so long ago.
No, they are none of that. They are dreams of a child whose memories are trying to hide him from the truth, holding him in a world of the past, cutting them up like strips of paper and soaking them in water, where over time, the pictures slide over each other, creating nothing but a mess. They are not dreams of a man who spends his nights toiling by himself in the heart of a cave, where the only sound is the heartbeat of his one body, echoing off the walls. They are not dreams of a man that would give his life for the people of Gotham. They are dreams that show everything about the man, they do not lie.
Bruce always dreams about the same thing, the same fragment in time, the same night in which there is nothing but the same of gun powder and blood. Bruce is with his parents, hollowed out creatures with no hint of who they are, walking down the darkened alleyway of the theater. Bruce is a child, arms reaching out toward his guardians, hands waiting to be filled with warmth. His mother is angry, always angry at him. She is yelling, her voice shrill and loud and his father is walking, never looking back.
"It's only a movie, for God's sake! It's not real."
Bruce is afraid of his mother, because he knows this person isn't her, this creature is something else. And yet, he still wants to cling to her, because he is terrified of letting her go.
"Bruce, I'm warning you! If you don't stop crying and act like a grown-up, I'm leaving you right here."
There is a twitch in the image of the dream, curling in on itself, sucking up the sound and leaving nothing but silence. There is no more words, no more yelling, there is only the words of what his mother sound creeping in the silence.
"Understand?"
The silence breaks, shattering into a bullet, breaking into the soft body of Bruce's father, eating up flesh and veins on it's journey to the soul. It is loud and horrible, the sound of a gun going off and blood spills onto the ground, each drop like glass, breaking on impact. He sees his father's body drop down, falling down into the black, even though it is snowing and he should be falling into the white and before Bruce can speak, his father is gone.
"I'm leaving you right here."
His mother is fading away, enough that Bruce can hear her heart, beating away frantically and she is clutching her body, blood dripping on her arms and Bruce wonders, almost ,childishly is she has been shot or if she has done this to herself. But, just like his father, she is gone, leaving only her voice, and Bruce wants to take that and strangle it until it sputters out nonsense, just so he doesn't have to real rational words anymore.
"Leaving you."
The shooter is not human, not at all. He is a dark figure, looming over Bruce, eyes small and red, starring down at Bruce, no emotions on it's face. He has the gun positioned at Bruce and it keeps going off, and yet no bullets come out, only the sound.
"Right here."
It changes, the figure, body twisting up, into another form, one that Bruce only knows in the back of his head, where it will never reach him until he is an adult. Claws replace hands, a dark cape escaping onto it's back. A mask covers it's features, teeth instead of a mouth shallowing the lower face.
"Right"
It bites into Bruce, and he can feel no pain, only the coldness as he is engulfed into the being, being brought back into the world that he has created for himself.
'Here."
It is not strange though, for what is happening to Bruce. He knows full well that his mind is crumbling, that it is wasting away. He has always feared that he has been slowly going mad ever since the death of his parents, but he has always covered it with grief, or lust or anger or some type of emotion. He knows that it only kept everything bottle in and Bruce feels as if everything he has done is just worthless. He never planned for it to happen, he never planned for anything.
He knew it would effect his mental state, making it questions itself and all those things that the textbooks say. But, in all honestly, he never expected it to affect his body. It has rotted into his physical state, the madness, enough so, that Bruce can feel every movement of it. It feels awkward, his body, as the muscle's feel constantly strained and his bones hurt, like pressure is being added to them, without anything touching him. It feels as if his skin is too tight for him, his arms and legs, creaking at the hinges every time they turn. It feels nothing like his body and perhaps that is what insanity feels like.
Bruce feels abandoned, utterly alone in this new world of his. The voices have yet to seep into the folds of his brain and he knows that he can't tell anyone this, despite hearing numerous times this is how madness is allowed to grow. He has lost the ability to have connections and this causes Bruce to just sink deeper into himself. He refuses to get help, because he doesn't want to be seen as weak, someone who needs constant attention, even though this is what he really needs.
Bruce is clinging onto anything that might give him support, no matter how unstable it is or how short is will last. That is how, he supposes, how every few nights or so, he lost track quite long ago, he hears the window of his room shatter into cracks, shards sliding on the fall, and giggles floating about the room. This man, the very carrier of insanity itself, is nothing but a gentleman to Bruce, not to be polite, but to loosen Bruce's hold on reality.
This clown, always ask if Bruce is fine, laughing as he says the words, because really, that question is a joke. He always takes off Bruce's tie off first, so that he may tie them to the bed. Bruce lets this happen, blaming it on the madness and the loneliness. It really doesn't matter, because Bruce always ends up naked on the bed, that wicked tongue of the clown on his body, always, always, making him beg for more.
He ends up getting hurt, needed that pain, and the clown is willing to deliver to Bruce, taking out a knife, and just cutting wherever he pleases and Bruce is left with scars after each 'session'. The clown whispers to Bruce, saying how pretty he looks, all tied up and crying and it makes Bruce wants the clown even more and it always leaves Bruce more lonely than he started off with.
But, then again, this is how madness works, and Bruce thinks faintly if this is what The Joker feels and it is always a fleeting thought. There is no emotion in this, there is only insanity. And for right now, it is all Bruce has.