I wanted to improve my writing, and entice people... you know, make it more interesting. So I made this. I'm hoping to do one from Joker's point of view in a few days as well... perhaps then I might add in a story after that. It all depends on how well this plays out.

This is Christian Bale's Batman and Bruce Wayne. And this is Heath Ledger's Joker... mostly because I adored the interpretation.

I don't own Batman, or Joker, or any characters from the series. But I did write a story with them in it. So have fun reading, guys! Thank you!


It had always been rather dark in Bruce's mind. From the constant onslaught of villainy to the backstabbing mob bosses around him… he had always thought the worst of things. One could call him a pessimist. He knew it to be true that in Gotham, there was darkness. It was a sad city; many had left, in fear of several criminals, ransacking the town… his town.

Batman's town.

The undercover hero knew quite a bit about foiling plans. He knew how to stop a car speeding down a congested street. He knew the railway to take to stop the 9 o'clock train from running over a tied up damsel. He knew of almost every single old warehouse where a mob or gang might coincide. He knew the street names like the back of his glove. He knew the time to run out and save the world from the light of the moon. He knew the time to hide from the world again by the shining of day.

He knew all that was to be known about the city of Gotham.

But he did not know the Joker.

He could not for the life of him figure out what was behind those scarred lips and that painted face. The hands that held knives, guns, bazookas, detonators, apple peelers even… he did not know where they had been. The superhero of Gotham, known for taking down any mad man, any evildoer in his tracks… he could not take down the clown. Not for the life of him.

That mind… that screwed up mind of his… Bruce could not untangle it. It was a long, fully matted mess of odds and ends, stitched together with sewing thread and tied badly. The loose pieces were coming apart. His sanity was unraveling. It was impossible to understand something that was deteriorating as you thought about it. Every second gone was a moment lost in that man… that clown's head. Soon he wouldn't even HAVE a mind. He would have…

Chaos.

With chaos in the Joker's brain… the city would be doomed. If the very level of insanity that no one had ever achieved finally snapped into the other's cerebellum, Batman would be no more. He wouldn't be ABLE to be anything more… he would have a true, suicidal madman on the loose. And the city would be in ashes by the second hour.

Bruce knew that the Joker was not a madman… yet. A sadistic and masochistic freak, yes. Crazy? No. He knew he wasn't crazy. That man made plans… intricate plans, conceived months in advance. He waited… he waited for the things he wanted. He would sit there all day, waiting for a bus to drive by so he could take it over to achieve a proper bank robbery. He would stand at the pier for hours until a boat came to drop off the goods he ordered, only to be made into bombs and detonators and used to almost blow up the city; almost. That was where Batman came in.

Batman knew enough about the Joker to not be scared, but piteous. The man was slowly falling off his rocker. It was a very steady, gentle process… but a moving one nonetheless. Soon, the Joker would be confined to a padded cell. Bruce knew that when the time came when he snapped, there would be a brief moment of silence before the real havoc began.

Utter Chaos.

Bruce didn't want chaos. But he did not want that man in a padded cell the rest of his life. It was clear the Joker craved fresh air- he walked through streets, he ran through buildings with buses… high excitement things. He was a thrill rider. He lived on the edge… he just happened to be going crazy.

Bruce hated seeing men who so longed for the fresh air to be put away. And over the years (yes, years of torment with the dark clown), he had realized that this man was not crazy. The first time he had seen that man… it had been on a tape, filmed with one of his phony Bats tied to a chair, soon to meet his demise… that tape had certainly left the masked vigilante thinking that this murderer was just plain insane.

But Bruce knew better now. He knew the way Joker could be almost human at times. He thought about things when you said them; he provided almost intellectual conversation. He mulled things over in his head before he uttered a word, to make sure he knew what he was talking about. Not many thought about their words; the Joker calculated every syllable. Everything he said seemed to be right; he knew what was going on in Gotham, even if he had been in a holding cell at Arkham the entire time.

He KNEW things. That was what scared Bruce.

That was what scared Batman.

Bruce no longer had a thing to do to this man. He couldn't kill him; he and the Joker had already realized that neither could kill the other. The Joker had insisted he was 'too much fun' to kill. And Batman… well, he had his rule. And that rule, no matter how crazy a rule for a superhero fighting evil to have… was his one and only law he would never break. Not even for the Joker.

Of course, the Joker used this fact to taunt him. Said that Bruce was too 'self righteous' and thought only of being 'noble' and 'good'. The clown insisted that Batman must show everyone who he was; he was probably sick of all the good he had done. But Bruce wouldn't take off his mask. And the few times when the Joker had caught him, he had always been within an inch of cutting that mask off and seeing who was beneath. Bruce always shivered when he thought of how close the other had gotten to his mask.

To him.

Was he becoming attached to the hopelessly deteriorating clown that broke his city into shambles and left him to pick up the pieces? Or was he just sorry for him? Could he even be sure any more? After years of trying to catch this man, then succeeding, then failing, then succeeding… all in a vicious, barbed circle that threatened to eventually spin too fast and kill them both.

So they were in it together. Bruce did not want it to be like that… but he knew it was fate. That was what the Joker was for. Without Batman, Joker was nothing. Without the Joker, Batman was…

Nothing.

It was hard to swallow, but it was true. Bruce knew it now, that he couldn't just keep trying to catch this maniac. The man wasn't catchable. He was the firefly you reached for with your open jar and watched it get so close… then slip through your fingers and fly off into the night. But one day, Bruce was scared he would grab out for that firefly… and crush it before it was in the jar.

Broken.

Lifeless.

Dead.

That wasn't what he wanted. He didn't want the Joker DEAD. No, never. But he was afraid of his own 'limits', as Alfred put them. Afraid that one day, he would lose his temper, strike out… and cause the Joker to fall. And never stand back up. And for some reason, that scared him. And it wasn't because it would break his sacred rule.

It was because it was the Joker. He didn't want that man gone from his life. From his undercover, cape-wearing, mask-sporting, bat-mobile riding life. If he could have fixed one thing in his lifetime, it was the Joker. He would want that man right side up… like a box with brand new porcelain china inside, it would break if held too roughly. And then it could not be replaced. You could glue it back together, but you could never heal the wounds… the cracks, the large bruises and scars, and scabs.

The heartache…

Had the Joker found a soft spot in a formerly hard, cold Batman? Had he somehow weaseled into his sub conscience, and made a home there? Why was it that Bruce thought about that clown all the time? Even worried for him?

It was because the Joker was irreplaceable. Once he was gone, there wouldn't be another Joker. There would be lesser villains claiming to want to rule the earth, to destroy Gotham, to be the supreme ruler of the human race…

But there would never be another Joker. Only the substandard evildoers of the underbelly of society. The kids who didn't get the toys they wanted for Christmas; the spoiled children in Gotham who grew up to be the spoiled adults. Who would grow up to be the scourges that Batman was known for beating off.

…Where would the Joker be? Joker was the ultimate enemy. He was smart, and quick witted, and he had thousands of weapons at his disposal. He was slightly crazy, not afraid to take a life, and he teased. Oh, Batman didn't always like the teasing when the nicknames became too affectionate…

It tugged at his insides. It made his heart burn, and it made his breath quicken. He hated it.

And yet he loved it.

He hated the Joker.

And yet he loved the Joker.

Chaos. Utter Chaos.


The end of this chapter. The second one will be the Joker's point of view, I think. I hope you all enjoyed it... or at least got some sort of thrill! See you next chapter.