overlithe (overlithe) wrote in batmanjoker, @ 2010-01-16 21:42:00 |
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Current mood: | busy |
Current music: | "Bad Romance" by Lady Gaga |
Secret Santa 2009 - Fic Prompt 12 - Becoming
Original poster: sweetcarolanne
Title: Becoming
Author/Artist: Carol Anne Caiafa
Prompt: #12. AU. Both Harvey Dent and Rachel Dawes survived, and Batman has happily retired. But the Joker isn't so pleased…
POV: Joker’s
Rating: Soft R for imagery and language
Disclaimer: Don’t own ‘em, no profit, don’t sue!
Warnings: Implied sex and violence, cussing, a touch of angst, AU
To some, the change becomes him. It’s a transformation the world approves of. Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy, settling down and turning into a responsible citizen. A philanthropist like his parents were. Giving something back to the world, doing charity work and all that blah blah boring shit.
Very few people know what he once was, and how much he actually gave – no, sacrificed - back then. Oh, Mr. White Knight Harvey Dent and his lovely if ever so tiresome little wife might have an inkling, but they’re too wrapped up in each other and their new little spawn to even care, I’ll bet.
When he was the Bat, he was magnificent. He was fierce and beautiful and on the verge of perfect madness. He completed me, as I used to love to tell him.
I like to tell stories of how I got my scars, but he’ll never reveal the secret of how he got most of his. But I know which ones I gave him, though. Sometimes when he’s sleeping – like he is right now – I’ll run my hands over them and reminisce about the old days. The good times… if he wakes up, sometimes he’ll want to play and he might just get rough with me – almost like he used to.
Almost, mind you. He never quite gets it right any more.
The rage isn’t there – the burning passion that’s forged in righteousness but slips ever closer towards the blade-edge of something far darker. It’s that flimsy barrier between order and chaos where he and I first truly met. That was the moment when we knew that we were meant for each other. He tried to deny it, but I always knew the truth. There was more to he and I than the mere fact that we were never going to kill each other.
Though there are times now when I’d almost like to kill him. Or to kill what he’s turned into, at least. Where the hell is my Bat? Bruce Wayne, blllionaire philanthropist, is so fucking dull… and if Bruce is a very dull boy, then so is Jack, I guess.
I agreed to this because it was a way to get out of Arkham. Agreed to come to this little haven of ours and be his secret lover… and try the whole rehabilitation thing to see if it was any fun. Obviously, since he retired from being the Bat, it hasn’t been any fun at all.
Standing here above the bed, watching the curtains blowing out towards me the way his cape used to billow, I think about going for a knife and putting an end to all this. To him and me and this whole fucking charade. But how melodramatic and tedious that would be!
There’s got to be a better way out of this, and there is. And I know just the man – or should I say, clown – for the job.
Chuckling softly, I slip out to the bathroom and start looking for my old make-up kit.