The Inevitable
The Inevitable - A Batman Joker story. Chapter 2.
"Only you can make this world seem right...
Only you can make the darkness bright...
Only you and you alone...
Can thrill me like you do;
And fill my heart with love for only you..."
---
Batman's eyes snapped open, his heart pulsing against his chest. Quickly sitting up, his eyes were desperate to find him.
"...Only you can make this change in me, for it's true, you are my destiny... When you hold my hand,
I understand the magic that you do..." The voice echoed in his large room. That old familiar voice. Quickly, Bruce threw the sheets off of his body and scrambled to his window to open the curtains.
The sunlight poured in, but only fell on his suit, and his empty cowl, playing Joker's last voice message. As his eyes adjusted, his heart immediately grew heavier then ever before.
Joker's soft, weak, and unusually sweet voice echoed throughout his room, filling him with an odd feeling. One of them being the bitterness. Walking dismally over to his cowl, he slowly picked it up observing the ear. It had been damaged and glitched in the process, and the voice-mail ironically had been put on loop.
"You're my dream come true, my one and only you..."
Batman quickly shut it off, desperate to leave it be. Resuming his spot on his bed, he looked around. He had made a mess, and his bed was covered in dirt and bloodstains from his recovery sleep. He sighed and slowly drew a robe over his battered and bruised body. No sooner had he done this, had Alfred knocked on the door.
"Master Wayne?" Alfred's voice carried softly through the thick door. But it was thick with concern.
Bruce did not even react for half a minute. He shifted slightly, and got up to open the door. But no words came forth from his mouth when the door creaked open.
"Master Wayne. Thank goodness. I have been worried sick about you. You've been out for three days, and I thought you might have fallen ill."
He said, observing Bruce in the sunlight for the first time since his return home. There were large shadows under his eyes and the creases and wrinkles were extremely exaggerated on his face. This was the first time Bruce seemed... older and even frail. The gashes and bruises on his face were more apparent then ever, a deep purple and blue hue to it, and the blood a dark crimson color now.
"I've made you some food, I am sure you have been hungry." Alfred held up the dish, the fragrance snaking it's way to Bruce. But when it hit, Bruce was unaffected.
"Thank you Alfred." He said taking the dish, saying goodbye, then promptly closing the door. He heard a small sigh outside of his door, and then Alfred walking away.
Setting the dish down tastelessly on his desk, he stared at it for a while. His eyes then slowly made their way over to the door. Making his way over to it, he somberly went down to his lair. The lights flickered on harshly as he arrived, the cave all of the sudden feeling even more hollow then ever.
Sitting down in a chair, he sprawled out various medical supplies. Hours passed of him gritting his teeth, stitching, patching, and swabbing.
Only you can make the darkness bright...
Only you and you alone...
Can thrill me like you do;
And fill my heart with love for only you..."
---
Batman's eyes snapped open, his heart pulsing against his chest. Quickly sitting up, his eyes were desperate to find him.
"...Only you can make this change in me, for it's true, you are my destiny... When you hold my hand,
I understand the magic that you do..." The voice echoed in his large room. That old familiar voice. Quickly, Bruce threw the sheets off of his body and scrambled to his window to open the curtains.
The sunlight poured in, but only fell on his suit, and his empty cowl, playing Joker's last voice message. As his eyes adjusted, his heart immediately grew heavier then ever before.
Joker's soft, weak, and unusually sweet voice echoed throughout his room, filling him with an odd feeling. One of them being the bitterness. Walking dismally over to his cowl, he slowly picked it up observing the ear. It had been damaged and glitched in the process, and the voice-mail ironically had been put on loop.
"You're my dream come true, my one and only you..."
Batman quickly shut it off, desperate to leave it be. Resuming his spot on his bed, he looked around. He had made a mess, and his bed was covered in dirt and bloodstains from his recovery sleep. He sighed and slowly drew a robe over his battered and bruised body. No sooner had he done this, had Alfred knocked on the door.
"Master Wayne?" Alfred's voice carried softly through the thick door. But it was thick with concern.
Bruce did not even react for half a minute. He shifted slightly, and got up to open the door. But no words came forth from his mouth when the door creaked open.
"Master Wayne. Thank goodness. I have been worried sick about you. You've been out for three days, and I thought you might have fallen ill."
He said, observing Bruce in the sunlight for the first time since his return home. There were large shadows under his eyes and the creases and wrinkles were extremely exaggerated on his face. This was the first time Bruce seemed... older and even frail. The gashes and bruises on his face were more apparent then ever, a deep purple and blue hue to it, and the blood a dark crimson color now.
"I've made you some food, I am sure you have been hungry." Alfred held up the dish, the fragrance snaking it's way to Bruce. But when it hit, Bruce was unaffected.
"Thank you Alfred." He said taking the dish, saying goodbye, then promptly closing the door. He heard a small sigh outside of his door, and then Alfred walking away.
Setting the dish down tastelessly on his desk, he stared at it for a while. His eyes then slowly made their way over to the door. Making his way over to it, he somberly went down to his lair. The lights flickered on harshly as he arrived, the cave all of the sudden feeling even more hollow then ever.
Sitting down in a chair, he sprawled out various medical supplies. Hours passed of him gritting his teeth, stitching, patching, and swabbing.