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Chapter Text

PROLOGUE/1: Mentality of a Madman

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"Don't be scared," Harry said softly, slowly analysing Louis' face. "Well, aren't you precious?" he noted with a soft hum of approval.

"C-can I go?" Louis asked. "Please," he added on, almost like an afterthought.

"Now hold on just a second, Robin," The Joker replied. "If you don't mind, I'd like to formally introduce myself," he stated, looking at Louis for approval. "Can I do that?" he asked. "Introduce myself?"

"I know who you are," Louis told him.

"You know me as the enemy of Batman," Harry stated. "I'm so much more than that."

"Okay," Louis agreed. "Introduce yourself."

"I'm The Joker, darling," he said softly, sticking out his hand for Louis to shake. "And it's an absolute pleasure to meet you," he added.

Louis blinked at the man, not shaking his hand out of pure fear.

"Come on, sweetheart," he added, offering his hand out to Louis. "I won't bite," he promised. "At least not outside of the bedroom," he added smugly, causing Louis to recoil in disgust. "Shake my hand," he ordered, more firmly this time.

Louis jumped slightly at the tone of his command, finally taking up the man's much larger hand in his own.

"There we go, sweetheart," The Joker muttered, suddenly pulling Louis towards him and causing the much smaller boy to stumble into his chest. "Oops," he muttered, lips close to Louis' own. "My bad, pretty," he added, subconsciously smirking at how easy Louis was to pull closer, to move, to control.

It was delicious.

"C-can I please go now?" Louis choked out.

Harry practically cooed at this. "Don't be scared, darling," he said. "I'm not going to hurt someone as pretty as you," he promised. "Don't be scared."

"Why are you doing this?" Louis whispered in fright. "I-I don't like it," he added.

"Not to make you afraid," Harry told him, though he was slightly aroused by the fear in Louis' eyes.

Louis tried to pull away from the man who was now too close for comfort. "Can you please let go?" He asked, trying to free himself helplessly.

Harry thought on it for a second, not wanting to let go of the boy but also not wanting to frighten him to the point where he would never trust Harry again and never return.

Harry had plans for him.

"If you promise to see me again," Harry replied finally. "Come to the other side of town."

"I don't think I can," Louis told him.

Harry sighed, long and hard. "If you don't come back, I can't let you leave," he said to the boy, making Louis' eyes widen.

"I can't," Louis replied. "I-I can't get there, he won't let me."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Then we can go somewhere else," he said. "Somewhere closer to your side of town."

"I can't," Louis stressed. "Please don't make me, he'll find out."

Harry's eyes softened slightly at the desperation in Louis' voice but he knew that he wanted to see this boy again, he needed to see him. "We can go anywhere you like," Harry tried. "Just see me again, sweetheart, I'll make it worth your time."

Louis' lips parted slightly, thinking it through. There was something in Harry's eyes; a dark glaze that shone through the gentle words that made Louis want to obey him, that made the offer too tempting to resist. "You can see me if you can find me," Louis said finally. "If you find me again, I'll give you all the time you desire."

Harry's lips twitched into a smirk, the playful undertone in Louis' promise all too appealing to the killer. "Game on," he whispered into Louis' neck before finally dropping the boy's hand.

"C-can I go?" Louis asked once he was free, he didn't want to anger The Joker by running when he wasn't supposed to.

Harry smiled at this, the boy's submissive nature all too delicious for him to handle; he licked his lips as he looked Louis once over. "I'll see you later, darling," he replied. "That's a promise," he added before taking Louis' hand once more and kissing it gently before pulling away altogether and leaving a confused Louis in the middle of a darkened street.

And that was the first time Louis ever had the pleasure of meeting The Joker.

Chapter Text

2: Synopsis of a Sociopath

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"Louis, c'mon," Liam called. "We've got a problem, we have to go," he instructed.

Louis looked up at this. "Huh?" He quizzed.

"He's on our side of town", Liam informed, holding out a hand for Louis and pulling the boy up from the sofa. "Gonna come chase him outta town with me?" he questioned and Louis nodded immediately.

Both boys were quick to get ready and leave their house.

Liam knew that they didn't have enough time or preparation to actually catch the The Joker this time, but they knew that they'd have to get him out of the area, at least for now. Next time, Liam would get him and throw him into the asylum where he belonged.

"Ready?" Liam quizzed, looking Louis over.

The smaller boy nodded. "Ready," he confirmed.

He wasn't.

***

This time when Harry made his way onto Batman's side of town, it wasn't for his usual business. This time he was just teasing; being playful. He wanted to see Robin again, and he knew exactly how he could do so. The boy had challenged him and Harry was all about the chase.

And it was no surprise when he heard the familiar voice of Batman as he graced the presence of the abandoned alleyway.

"Come out come out wherever you are," The Joker sang, looking into the shadows where Liam's figure could be seen.

Liam placed his hand on Louis' shoulder, pushing the younger man behind him slightly. "Stay here for now," he whispered before stepping out of the shadows.

"Ah," The Joker hummed. "There you are."

"I was never hiding," Batman replied with a vague shrug. "You just can't seem to catch me."

"It's you that can't quite catch me, Batman," The Joker argued.

"I caught you," Liam said firmly. "It's Arkham Asylum that-"

"Couldn't contain me," Harry finished off. "You're quite right."

"You shouldn't be here," Batman said sharply, rapidly becoming annoyed at The Joker's antics. "You shouldn't be on this side of town."

"And why's that?" The Joker asked. "Are you scared?" he questioned, beaming at Liam.

"Why are you here?" Liam shouted, ignoring the man completely.

"For you, of course," Harry answered and Liam scowled at him. "Okay okay," he added. "Maybe not for you specifically."

"Then who?" Liam asked, the frown not leaving his face as he looked The Joker in the eye.

"Can't you guess?" Harry questioned and Liam shook his head. "Go on!" he added enthusiastically. "Take a guess," he stated, moving to the side slightly and backing into the shadows that Batman had come from.

"Tell me!" Liam demanded, desperately trying to catch a glimpse of Harry who was now lost in the darkness.

"You're not as smart as I thought you were," The Joker told him blankly. "Really, I thought more highly of you," he added, slowly moving so that he was stood directly behind Louis.

"Joker!" Liam shouted, panicking once he thought that he'd lost the man.

Without hesitation, Harry grabbed Louis from behind, placing his hand on top of Louis' mouth and preventing Louis from making a sound. "Struggle and you'll regret it," was all that Harry needed to whisper to the smaller boy to still his movements.

When Harry emerged from the shadows, it was with Louis held in front of him and the sight almost made Liam's jaw twitch in anger.

"Now don't worry, I won't hurt him," Harry promised. "You're too pretty to die" he added to Louis, his voice a mere whisper.

"Then what do you want?" Liam questioned, trying to hold his ground and show no emotion.

"Him," Harry stated, looking at Louis.

"What do you mean 'him'?" Liam questioned angrily. "You can't just claim a human."

"Actually, you can," Harry argued. "That's what you've done, isn't it?" Harry questioned, his tone taunting. "You've claimed him," he clarified.

"I've not claimed anyone," Liam stated. "He comes with me willing because he wants to," he added. "Now let him go."

"Why?" Harry teased. "I'm not hurting him."

"He doesn't want you to touch him," Liam replied.

"Why don't you let him speak for himself?" Harry questioned. "Ask him what he wants for once?"

Both Liam and Harry looked at Louis who shifted uncomfortably under the gaze of the two superior men.

"I want you to let go of me," Louis said finally, looking up at Harry and licking his lip timidly.

"As you wish," Harry replied, slowly letting go of Louis who took the opportunity to walk over to Liam quickly.

"I never want to see you here again," Batman stated. "I could just as easily throw your arse back into that asylum," he stated. "So I'll give you five seconds to-"

Harry was already gone.

***

"Why did he want me so much?" Louis asked Liam, visibly shaken.

"I don't know," Liam replied honestly. "Hey hey, calm down," he added softly, touching his brother's shoulder. "He didn't hurt you, right?"

"Not yet," Louis replied, breathing deeply in and out.

"Not ever," Liam promised. "I won't let that happen."

"I-I don't know why he wanted me," Louis stated. "He didn't hurt me, b-but he just wanted to...I don't even know what," Louis admitted, wondering why on earth Harry had grabbed him.

"Intimidate you, probably," Liam answered. "But he let you go as soon as you asked. He's just trying to get under your skin- and mine."

"Why did he? Why'd he let me go?" Louis questioned.

"I don't know," Liam replied with a shrug. "He didn't want to hurt you," he clarified. "That's a good thing."

And it was true in a way. He didn't want to hurt Louis, as such; he wanted to own him, to possess him in every way possible, to control him. Harry found a thrill in the way he saw Louis shiver when their eyes met, and he envied yet admired the purity in his eyes when he followed Liam's lead. Louis felt it, the darkness in Harry's touch. It made his skin itch with curiosity every time the man came close to him. It was intriguing, if nothing else, how one man could possess such evil in his body.

Harry wanted Louis as his own. Whether that be on his side or in his arms. It was just a bonus that it would spite Batman by him doing so.

"I'm sorry," Louis said finally, his voice quiet.

"For what?" Liam questioned. "You didn't do anything wrong," he stated.

"I hold you back," Louis admitted. "I get into trouble and you're always the one to get me out."

"That's what older brothers are for," Liam replied simply.

"No," Louis argued. "We're meant to protect each other," Louis told him. "But that never happens because you're too busy protecting me."

"You think I mind?" Liam asked. "You're saying this like you're a burden to me."

"Maybe I am," Louis stated. "Maybe I should stop."

"Stop what?" Liam questioned.

"Stop giving you a reason to save me," Louis replied. "You're better off without me."

"Hey!" Liam exclaimed, almost a little too harshly. "Don't ever say that again," he snapped. "We help each other," he said simply. "This isn't one-sided," he added. "We both have our times of need."

Louis didn't reply this time, just simply looked away and nodded softly.

"You're no burden to me," Liam promised. "Never will be."

Louis wished that he could believe it.

Chapter Text

3: Nemesis of a Nutjob

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Harry grinned as he walked into the room to see a familiar man tied to a chair. "Lucas Sinclair," he said loudly, clapping his hands together and looking the man over. "How are you?" He questioned, amused as the man writhed around on the chair. "Feeling a little trapped, I suppose?"

"Fuck you," Lucas spat. "Let me out of here," he added, looking around the room where dead animals were hanging from the ceiling like a butcher's store.

Harry continued to smile. "Nice touch, isn't it?" he replied, looking around at the meat. "Are you hungry?"

"Get me out of here!" Lucas demanded, voice panicked.

Harry's grin remained as he watched the man struggle in his restraints. "Better play your cards right, Sinclair, or else you'll end up just like them," he warned.

Lucas visibly swallowed, throat bobbing in anticipation. "What do you want?" he asked.

"What does any man want?" The Joker quizzed, a playful tone in his voice. "Love? Happiness?" he asked rhetorically. "Maybe...vengeance?" He added thoughtfully, licking at his red lips.

Lucas glared at him, growing tired and frustrated at the man's joking around. "Tell me what you want!" he snapped.

And Harry's smile was back, shining brightly in contrast to his dead eyes. "Patience, Sinclair," he replied softly.

Lucas' nostrils flared and he scowled at Harry. "Why am I here?" he questioned.

Harry shrugged. "Maybe I just like to watch you struggle," he replied.

"Well you've had your fun, now let me go," Lucas demanded.

Harry shook his head. "On the contrary, my fun has only just begun," he said, walking closer to the man and lightly pressing his knife to the man's cheek. "Only when you're begging for my mercy, will I truly be satisfied," he stated.

"Just let me- ah!" he broke off a scream when Harry dug a knife into his hand, twisting it slightly.

The Joker grinned. "That's more like it," he announced. "Music to my ears," he muttered happily.

The man choked out a sob. "Stop!" he cried out. "Stop, stop!" he chanted when Harry toyed with the knife, pushing it all the way through his hand. "No!"

"You, Sinclair," Harry started. "You have done something very unremarkable with those hands, no?" he quizzed, looking down at Lucas' bloody hand. "This is payback, darling."

Lucas screamed as Harry pulled the knife out of his now hollow hand. "Please!" he choked out.

Harry smiled, taking the blood knife and pressing it to the man's face, smearing blood across his cheek. "Hurts, doesn't it?" he quizzed. "Though I wouldn't know, I never have felt it," he continued. "Pain, that is," he clarified.

Sinclair's breathing was staggered, and he let out another scream when he saw Harry raising the knife. "No no!" he begged.

"Scared?" Harry asked before suddenly plunging the knife into Lucas' other hand. "Uh oh..." he muttered.

"Stop," Lucas' whispered, his words half caught in his throat from the pain.

Harry continued to grin. "You imprisoned me for six months in that asylum," he said softly. "You caged me up like an animal," he added louder. "You-"

"Joker!" someone called and Harry turned to face them. "Robin has been spotted outside a nearby building," he added lowly, saying the words for only Harry to hear. "Want us to take care of him?"

Harry's brows raised at the information and his lips twitched into a sickening grin before he turned to Lucas. "Unfortunately for you, Lucas, you are no longer entertaining me," he stated. "Better and more beautiful things have captured my attention," he explained. "Which means that you have no use to me anymore," he added, eyeing the man before turning to one of his assistants. "Finish him, will you?" he instructed and the man nodded.

Harry turned on his heels and Lucas began to scream after him. "No, Joker!" he cried out. "Stop, come back!" he begged. "Don't have them kill me, stop-"

His cries were cut short and Harry smiled at the sound of silence. "Take me to him," he ordered.

***

Harry should have known from the second he saw Robin that his darkness would affect the boy. It was easy to be fascinated by it and by him.

And if Harry was a sane man, he'd leave Louis alone. Leave him to be the boy forever chasing, the boy left in wonder, the boy kept safe. But Harry wasn't sane, he was curious. He wanted to know everything about him, he wanted to know him, wanted to corrupt him. And Louis was curious too, curious enough to let himself wander through Gotham at night, only partly in search of the sociopath that let him go.

"It's a little late to be out on your own," Harry said. "Don't you think?" he questioned, eyeing Louis from a few yards away.

Louis could only see the man's outline as he leaned against the brick wall like a silhouette but, in an instance, he knew exactly who it was.

"Oh come on," The Joker continued. "Aren't you going to answer me, sweetheart?"

Louis backed away slowly when the man took a step towards him, pursing his lips and staying quiet.

"The silent treatment huh?" he asked, taking another step towards Louis. "I expected more from you, Robin," he stated as Louis continued to walk backwards, keeping his distance. "Now, don't be scared," he said softly. "I'm not going to kill you," he promised.

"Don't come any closer," Louis said finally as The Joker stepped into the light.

"He speaks!" The Joker declared happily and Louis scowled at him. "How are you, Robin?"

"It's no concern of yours," Louis replied.

"But it is," Harry told him. "I want a fair fight."

"You said that you won't kill me-" Louis started.

"And I won't," Harry promised.

"Then why fight?" Louis questioned.

"Don't you want a shot at trying to kill me?" Harry asked.

Louis thought about it for a second before shaking his head slowly. "I don't fight without Batman," he said finally.

"Don't or can't?" The Joker taunted.

"Don't," Louis clarified.

"Why not?" Harry mocked. "Aren't you allowed?"

Louis stayed silent at this, still backing up slightly to keep his distance from Harry.

"Don't you think that you're strong enough without him?" The Joker questioned. "Are you scared, Robin?" he continued.

"I'm not scared of you," Robin replied stated confidently.

"The goosebumps on your neck say otherwise," Harry replied.

"It's cold out," Louis replied. "They're not out of fear," he clarified.

"Well then," Harry started. "Why not give me your best shot?"

Louis chose not to reply once again, instead he planned out in his head the easiest escape route.

"Oh come on, I won't hurt you," The Joker promised. "You have my word."

"Am I supposed to trust your word?" Louis scoffed.

"I'm offended," Harry replied dramatically. "Don't you trust me?"

"Why would I?" Louis asked. "I have no reason to."

"I could give you a hundred reasons, sweetheart," The Joker told him. "Starting with, I am an honest man."

Louis almost laughed at this, instead, he pursed his lips and furthered the space between him and Harry.

"Would you believe me if I told you that I'd never broken my word?" Harry questioned.

"As a matter of fact, no," Louis replied, frowning when Harry took a step closer to him.

"Then let me prove it to you," Harry told him, coming closer. "Hit me."

"I don't want to," Louis told him nervously.

"Sure you do," Harry boasted. "Everyone wants to punch me."

"I don't.”

"Why not?" Harry asked. "Afraid you'll ruin the beauty?" he added, gesturing to his paint-covered face and flashing Louis a grin.

Louis squirmed uncomfortably at this, his skin tinting a light shade of red. "That's not why!"

"Enlighten me, Robin" Harry replied.

"Please," Louis said softly. "Just let me go home."

"It's a dangerous place at night," Harry told the boy. "Are you sure you want me to leave your side?"

"I'll be fine," Louis stated. "J-just let me go," he stuttered when Harry came face to face with him.

"As you wish," Harry replied, his hand reaching up to touch Louis' face. "One more thing," he spoke up after a couple of seconds pause.

"Yes?" Louis asked.

Harry's fingers finally met with Louis' cheek, stroking the skin softly but in such a manner that showed he was the one in control. "Don't tell Batman that you saw me here."

Louis swallowed at this, not looking Harry in the eye.

"Do we have a deal?" The Joker questioned. "I let you go and you tell nobody that you saw me tonight."

"Okay," Louis said quietly. "I won't tell," he promised.

"Good," Harry hummed, his fingers slowly leaving Louis' cheek. "Good," he repeated. "See you again soon, Robin," he said finally, watching as Louis turned around and ran from the small alleyway and into the midst of Gotham City.

Chapter Text

4: Lowdown of a Lunatic

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The next time that the two of them met, Louis tried (and failed) to hold his ground.

It was his fault, anyway, for trespassing onto foreign ground once again; but there was a small part of him that hoped he'd bump into Harry, just to test the waters. The larger part of himself, however, wanted to punch Harry in the face as soon as he laid eyes on the older man, like the feud between them just ran in his blood.

"Ah, nice to see you again, Robin," Harry greeted upon seeing Louis.

"What do you want, Joker?" Louis questioned with a huff, hardly meeting Harry's eyes.

"Only to talk to you," Harry replied with a wide smirk. "I'm pleased to see you."

"If only I could say the same," Louis stated, trying to walk past Harry but the older man was quick to step in front of him.

"You listened to me, didn't you?" Harry said, eyebrows raised. "You didn't tell Batman that you saw me."

"How do you know that?" Louis questioned.

"I can see the guilt written all over your face," The Joker answered, stepping close enough to press his fingertips to Louis' chin. "You chose me over him and it kills you inside."

"I-I-" Louis stuttered out, swallowing and composing himself slightly before continuing. "I didn't choose anyone," he clarified, finally able to get the words out when Harry leaned forward.

"But you lied to him," Harry argued, lips against Louis' ear. "In order to stay loyal to me."

"I didn't do it for you," Louis replied, slowly edging backwards away from Harry.

The Joker caught Louis' forearm, pulling him closer. "Yeah?" he questioned. "Then why?" he quizzed, slowly pressing his forehead against Louis'.

Robin's breath hitched and he suddenly jerked away from Harry, half scared, half aroused.

"I don't need to answer to you," Louis stated simply, voice breaking as he side-stepped Harry so that he could leave.

"You're going so soon?" Harry questioned, stepping to block Louis. "We've hardly talked," he added in a mock sad tone.

"Can't say that I'm too disappointed about it," Louis replied.

"Hurt my feelings and break my heart!" Harry said dramatically.

"I shouldn't be here," Louis stated after a couple of seconds.

"Then why are you?" Harry questioned.

Louis didn't know the answer, honestly, he didn't; somehow the boy had found himself wandering to the side of town that his brother hated most. The Joker was like a magnet, drawing him in and entrancing him like a psychotic magician until he inevitably pounced.

"You don't want me here?" Louis asked finally.

Harry paused for a second, looking Louis over and licking his lips. "I didn't say that," he replied. There was a moment's silence and Louis finally stepped past Harry to leave, taking a long breath and closing his eyes as Harry spoke up again. "You don't have to leave," The Joker stated.

"I do," Louis replied, turning his head slightly to catch a glimpse of The Joker. "I'm not meant to be here."

Harry smiled at this. "I won't tell," Harry told him. "Your secret's safe with me."

"It's not a secret," Louis argued, turning back around to face The Joker.

"Then why isn't he with you?" The Joker asked. "Batman," he clarified. "Why isn't he here?" Louis didn't reply so the older man continued. "You didn't want him to know," Harry answered his own question.

"I didn't have a reason to tell him," Louis stated. "He didn't need to know!"

"You came here for a reason though, didn't you?" Harry questioned. "All alone at night."

"No," Louis only half lied.

Harry continued to grin like the madman he was. "Oh come on!" The Joker scoffed. "Nobody comes around here without a motive," he added "What's yours?"

"I don't have one," Louis said simply. "I was just wandering and I found myself here."

"In hopes of seeing me?" Harry asked.

"Don't kid yourself!" Louis exclaimed, immediately on defence. "You are the last person I would ever choose to see.”

"Are you sure about that?" Harry questioned.

"I'm sure," Louis replied quickly.

"Then why are you still here?" Harry asked and, with that, Louis left; confidently walking down the abandoned streets of Gotham City.

***

Louis stumbled into his own house at a little after ten, sighing as he closed the front door behind him. The light coming from the kitchen told him that Liam was up and waiting around for him to come home. Without any further hesitation, Louis walked into the kitchen to see his brother leaning against the counter, eating something from a bowl.

Louis squinted at the man before raising an eyebrow. "Really?" he quizzed. "Cereal at this time?" he asked, looking at Liam's not-so-sensible choice of dinner.

Liam grinned, amused. "Really?" he shot back. "You're going to come back at this time without so much as a phone call?" he questioned.

"Alright, touche," Louis muttered, half in agreement.

He shouldn't have done what he did today and he knew that; he knew with every inch of his wisdom that he shouldn't have stopped to speak to Harry, never mind engage in whatever messed up mind games that he was inevitably playing. But there was just something so charming, so alluring about his overly red smile and his dull eyes that made Louis crave more. The feeling of Harry was both consuming and suffocating and Louis wanted more of it, wanted to drown in it if needs be. Harry gave him a feeling that no one else could, and Louis wasn't entirely sure that this was a good thing, but it sparked a curiosity in him nonetheless. Harry gave him a sense of freedom.

Just a flame of it, a tiny spark. A star in the pitch-black night that tasted so divine.

"You've got something on your nose," Liam pointed out, cutting Louis from his wandering thoughts.

"What?" Louis asked, peering at his reflection on the surface of the kitchen counter.

"Come here," Liam said softly.

Louis furrowed his eyebrows, walking over to Liam and flinching when the older boy touched at his cheek.

"It's makeup," Liam noted, licking the pad of his thumb and wiping the white and red colour off of Louis' nose. Louis' heart rate increased as he remembered what had happened not even an hour prior. "Now why on earth would you have some sort of makeup on your face?" Liam asked once he'd wiped it off of Louis' face.

"I uh..." Louis mumbled quietly. "I was just testing it out..."

"Makeup?" Liam questioned.

"Yes..." Louis answered quietly.

"Oh," Liam replied softly. "Okay...so you're into that then?" he asked after a couple of seconds.

"I guess," Louis said timidly. "I-is that okay?"

"What do you mean?" Liam questioned.

"Is that okay?" Louis asked again. "Like...with you?"

"You're asking whether I mind if you try out makeup?" Liam replied incredulously.

"I just don't want you to feel...weird," Louis said quietly.

"Hell, Louis, put on a dress for all I care!" Liam stated with a chuckle. "What you do is up to you, not me," he added. "You're my brother, not my possession. Do as you please."

Louis smiled brightly at this, but then guilt kicked in when he remembered the real reason that the makeup stain was on his face and he frowned. "Thanks, Liam," he said quietly, slumping slightly as he took a step back.

"Oh crap, Louis, I gotta run," Liam said, looking down at his watch that was beeping before gathering his things from the kitchen counter.

Louis frowned at this. "Where to?" he questioned.

"Gotta go save the world, little brother," Liam answered, shooting Louis a grin. "Someone spotted Harley on our side of town," he stated. "Don't wait up for me," he added, ruffling Louis' hair as he jogged past the younger boy. "Love you!" he called.

"But-" Louis cut himself off with a sigh when he heard the front door slam shut.

***

Louis would have always credited himself with being strong-willed, independent and fearless.

That was, until Harry came into the picture.

He'd spoken to the man not even five times in his entire life and suddenly every attribute that he would have once given himself seemed to diminish. Every time Louis vowed never to step foot on Harry's territory, he failed himself. Then once it was all over, and he'd had his brief encounter with The Joker, he would feel extreme guilt in the pit of his stomach as he concluded each and every time that he'd just let himself down.

It was like binge eating. The build-up. The excitement. The sugar rush. But the comedown was also just as tragic; like a crash into a thousand shards of glass. He was weak when it came to his curiosity, and maybe sometimes he even let it rule him. But one thing that Louis would never do was let Harry win.

So he played on his own weaknesses and devised a plan to suit himself.

He would give into his inevitable curiosity and use it to his own advantage. Once he had gained Harry's trust and met up with the man an inexcusable amount of times, he would strike, thereby ridding the world of The Joker once and for all. The only problem is, that Louis didn't quite see one flaw in his scheme.

Attachment.

And, God, how easy it was to become attached to a ruthless, bloodthirsty maniac.

"Can't stay away hm?" The Joker quizzed, greeting Louis in the spot that they could now call their own.

Louis shrugged. "You're here too," he shot back. "Maybe you wanted to see me."

Harry tutted softly, striding over to Louis. "You know that thing inside you?" he quizzed. "The one that pulls you here despite every atom in your body wanting to run?" he continued, stepping closer to Robin. "That's called allure, sweetheart," he stated. “You have that for me."

Louis fish-mouthed, blushing pink. "I have nothing for you but pure hatred!" he rushed out, embarrassed.

Harry grinned, sick and conniving. "On the contrary, you don't hate me at all," he replied.

Louis blinked. "How do you know anything about how I feel?" he asked, offended.

"If you hated me, darling, I'd be dead," The Joker pointed out. "Yet, here we are, in the middle of Gotham. Together."

Louis let out a soft huff. "Maybe I'm just biding my time," he argued easily.

"Or maybe you want to kiss me," Harry shot back.

Louis held back a gasp. "That's- that's revolting!" he exclaimed. The grin that took over Harry's face was formidable, his laughter echoing through the stone walls of the city. "Stop laughing!" Louis pleaded, becoming more embarrassed by the second.

Harry stopped all at once, the silence becoming frightening.

And then The Joker finally spoke, eyeing Louis directly as he did so. "Let's get you home, hm?" he said softly. "Wouldn't want Batman waiting up for you."

Louis blinked, nodding blindly at Harry's words. And then he was gone; leaving Louis in the midst of a city filled with corruption.

Chapter Text

5: Conspectus of a Cuckoo

-----

It was a little after midnight when Liam finally got home to Louis waiting for him in the kitchen.

"Still up?" Liam quizzed, glancing at the boy as he locked up and threw down his keys.

Louis shrugged, face lit up by the soft kitchen lights. "You'd do the same for me," he replied easily.

Liam let out a short laugh at this. "That's because I worry about you, brother," he stated. "The world's a dangerous place," he added. "People like you shouldn't be out at night," he said.

Louis blinked at this, raising his brows at Liam. "People like me?" he repeated softly. "What so I'm not... strong enough to go at dark?" he questioned, more confused than offended.

Liam scoffed at this, rolling his eyes. "Didn't mean you weren't strong," he replied simply. "Meant you're too precious," he explained. "Don't want anything to happen to you, silly."

"Oh," Louis said softly, smiling as Liam walked over.

The older man ruffled Louis' hair once he was close enough. "You're stronger than you realise," he promised. "Don't doubt yourself," he added softly. There was a short pause before Liam spoke up again. "C'mon," he said, holding a hand out to Louis and helping the boy up. "Let's get to bed."

Louis sighed at this, refusing Liam's hand and pulling away. "Sleep is for the weak," he muttered. "Do you still have to go to that thing tomorrow?" he quizzed.

Liam chuckled in reply. "That thing just so happens to involve the most important people in the city," he replied with a grin.

Louis rolled his eyes. "Who cares about the mayor?" he asked.

Liam grinned at this. "Careful what you say, little brother," he replied. "One day you're going to be working with him."

Louis pulled a face at this, huffing softly. "He wears Crocs, Liam," Louis reminded. "Crocs!" he emphasised.

Liam barked out a laugh in reply. "He was on holiday!" he defended.

"He was an embarrassment to the city!" Louis shot back.

"What are you, the fashion police?" Liam quizzed.

Louis smiled at this, folding his arms across his small chest. "I should be," he muttered. "What?" he questioned, eyeing Liam. "Don't tell me that you like Crocs?"

Liam shrugged, face going pink. "They're not that bad," he said quietly.

Louis scoffed at this, almost offended. "They're hideous!" he exclaimed. "They were probably crafted by Satan himself," he ranted. "In hell!"

"Okay, you need to go to sleep," Liam cut in, rolling his eyes at Louis' dramatic rant. "You're overtired."

"I'm trying to save the human race from such revolting fashion choices," Louis defended.

Liam grinned. "Okay, well, save them tomorrow," he replied. "But for now you need to go to bed," he added softly, eyeing Louis who was clearly at a stage of tiredness where he had become hyper.

"Boo you," Louis muttered, poking his tongue out at Liam before hopping up from the kitchen stool and leaving the room.

"Goodnight to you too, crazy pants!" Liam called after him, naturally cleaning up all of the mess that Louis had left behind.

***

Louis was curious by nature.

Never wanting to leave any stone unturned, never wanting to stay captive indoors when there was so much to learn outside, so much to explore.

Liam kept him grounded in ways, keeping him safe and inspired in the comforts of their own home because he knew that Louis was ingenue and impressionable by nature; so easily influenced by the things and people around him. So, without Liam's guidance, it was almost inevitable that he would find himself wandering the streets in search of something that could cure his insatiable desire for adventure. It wasn't so long before he was spoken to by the voice of adventure itself.

"You look like a man on a mission," they said, and at an instance, Louis knew that it was him.

The smaller boy turned to face him, brows raised. "You look like the man about to delay me," he shot back.

"Only if you let me," The Joker replied. "Will you?" he asked. "Spare me a moment of your time?"

"That depends," Louis said. "What do you have to offer?" he questioned.

Harry grinned at this, wicked and alluring. "That depends..." he echoed. "How much time do you have?" he asked.

Louis raised his brows at this, cocking his head slightly. "Not much seen as you're wasting it," he shot back, backing away.

Harry continued to smile, lips just as red as they always were. He stepped towards Louis. "You're very fiery today, darling, it's an admirable look on you," he commented.

Louis held back a smile. "I'm just getting warmed up,"

Harry hummed softly, looking Louis up and down. "That so?" he asked softly, still smiling. "That what you came here for?" he asked.

Louis tilted his chin, looking up at The Joker expectantly. "What do you mean?"

Harry stepped closer, still eyeing Louis and licking at his red lips as he did so. "What I mean is that I believe you came here to see me," he stated. "If only to exercise your verbal wit."

"My verbal wit?" Louis repeated curiously.

Harry nodded, grinning at Louis' response. "You hold your ground much better than you once did," he complimented. "I'm impressed, darling."

Louis almost smiled at the compliment. "Because I'm not afraid of you, Joker," he replied.

"Ah, but you should be," Harry told him.

"And why's that?" Louis asked.

Harry shrugged nonchalantly. "Because I have it within my power to so very easily corrupt you," he said easily. "Though, maybe you shouldn't be afraid of me, but yourself," he explained. "For you do have such an impressionable young mind..." he muttered. "Who knows what I can turn you into."

"What makes you think that?" Louis questioned, taking a step back to analyse the Joker's face.

"You think I can't sense it?" Harry questioned. "You want me," he stated confidently. "You want me in every way imaginable."

"You give yourself too much credit!"

"You don't deny it though," Harry told Louis, licking his lips softly. "That you want to kiss me."

Louis jerked back at this. "I do not!" he said quickly.

"Not even a little?" Harry questioned, mock sadness lacing his tone.

"Not even a little!" Louis stated without hesitation.

"I think you're lying," Harry replied. "Well," he said quietly, looking back and forth between Louis and his crotch. "Or... one of you are."

"Oh my god!" Louis near to exclaimed, suddenly, feeling the intense urge to cover his crotch. "You're disgusting!" he told Harry, clearly shocked at the boy's discreetly vulgar words. "I-I'm not even-I'm... y-you're just you're-" he stuttered out defensively.

Harry laughed at this; he let out his loud signature cackle and Louis cringed at the sound.

"I can't believe you!" Louis ranted. "I've never met someone so self-absorbed!"

When the laughter subsided and The Joker had finally composed himself, he replied. "I'm a one-of-a-kind, Robin," he promised. "You're lucky to have met me."

"Feels more like a curse..." Louis replied. "Now if you'll excuse me," he added, trying to walk past Harry.

"Wait," Harry said quickly. "You're leaving without a kiss?" he asked sweetly.

"Why on earth would I want to kiss you?" Louis questioned, mere inches away from Harry. They were close to each other, faces mere inches apart.

"Call it attraction," Harry replied with a shrug. "Or lust," he added. "But every inch of you is gagging for it."

"If that's what you think, then you're very mistaken, Joker," Louis promised, quickly pushing past Harry and stepping away from the boy.

"Once day, Robin," Harry called after him before the sound of laughter, once again, filled the streets of Gotham.

Chapter Text

6: Briefing of a Basket Case

-----

Whenever Batman could, he would stick by Louis' side. Keep him safe and inspired without sheltering him too much, without keeping him locked up in a tower, without stopping him from living.

There was a fine line between being protective and being overprotective and Liam tried his hardest not to cross it. So, when Liam locked Louis in this house this time, he convinced himself that it was for the greater good.

"Liam, I can help!" Louis insisted "Don't you trust me?" he questioned.

Liam sighed in reply. "I do trust you," he promised. "And you can come next time, just-" he cut himself off, shaking his head. "Hey, don't...don't get upset."

Louis' nose twitched, but he finally nodded. "Fine," he agreed. "I'm kind of tired anyways," he admitted.

Liam let out a sigh of relief, nodding to himself. "Okay," he said softly. "See you later," he added, reaching out to give Louis' shoulder a soft squeeze before retreating with a smile and leaving the house.

Louis waited until he heard the car engine revving up before he raced to the front door to pull on his shoes.

"So much for being a sidekick," he grumbled to himself as he peeked through the curtains to see Liam's rear lights glimmering in the distance.

The blue-eyed boy slowly opened up the front door, exiting the mansion before locking up behind himself. It's not that Louis asked for trouble; not exactly. He never went looking for it, per se, but trouble always seemed to find him no matter what he did or where he went. He wanted to help, as always. Venturing into the world to save it, despite Liam's protests, because he knew that he was destined to do great things.

It was twelve years since his parents died.

It was the hardest thing that Louis had ever had to deal with and, as well as the loss of their presence, he found himself having to grow up twice as fast as he'd ever thought he'd have to. Liam was the one who tried to protect his youth; fostering Louis' childhood innocence for as long as he possibly could by taking on the role of a parent himself and going on to do everything that a father (and a mother) would have to. Louis had turned eighteen last year and Liam, finally, decided that maybe it was time for him to join the family business; saving the world.

Louis was gentle by nature but, despite this, he was determined to not only make Liam proud by following in his big brother's footsteps but also his parents'. He'd like to think that they'd be just as proud of him as Liam seemed to be.

So, with this thought in mind, he practically raced out of the driveway of the mansion and darted into the streets of Gotham with enthusiasm in every step.

***

'Batman' was a household name by the time Liam's eighteenth birthday came around.

Everyone in Gotham spoke of the black-caped vigilante that aimed to rid their streets of evil. The most recognisable form of evil in Gotham was, of course, The Joker. The man who brought crime and gang violence into the city with just the sound of his unmistakable, cackling laughter.

It was no secret that the two were arch-enemies; no one of them possibly existed without the other, like opposing chips in a game piece or conjunctive cogs in machinery. They made each other both weaker and stronger all at once; their competition had lasted over five years now and, with every drawn-out hour that it continued, Liam's hatred for The Joker only grew.

Liam and Louis both wanted to honour their parents in very different ways. As Louis wanted to make them proud, Liam wanted to avenge them. He wanted to rid the city of all crime, cleansing the contaminated streets of Gotham, first and foremost by wiping out the Joker himself; the source and inspiration of crime in the city.

When Liam got a call that The Joker was spotted just mere days after pulling off the robbery of the century, he had to venture out to find him. Louis, Liam thought, was too young, too precious to be battling such incredibly horrific people. His brother had only been training for a little less than a year; he wasn't ready for this, in Liam's eyes at least.

It didn't take long for Batman to find The Joker, hearing the man before he actually saw him face to face. The smell in the air was just as putrid as the sound of The Joker's laughter. The metallic scent of blood was mixed with the scent of rotting trash from the dumpsters in the alleyway; a fitting palace for a man just as vile.

When Liam did finally catch a glimpse of the man, the first thing that he noticed where The Joker's sparkling teeth lined with crystals and gold.

"Good evening, B-man," The Joker greeted with an unmistakable grin.

"It was," Liam agreed. "Until I bumped into you."

The cackle that Harry released from his mouth was formidable. "You act like we don't need each other, Bat-boy," he said.

"Need each other?"

Harry smiled. "Why, of course," he explained. "What's a good old-fashioned hero without a villain?" he questioned.

Liam scoffed. "I'm no hero," he said.

Harry raised a paint-covered brow. "No?" he asked. "Then why are you trying so hard to stop me from being...me?"

"You're despicable."

Harry flashed his teeth. "You're just now noticing?"

Batman took a step forward. "Don't make this harder than it has to be," he said. "I think Arkham is missing a patient."

Harry backed up immediately, wagging his finger playfully. "Uh uh uh," he muttered softly. "Wouldn't do that if I were you."

The grin on Harry's face was despicable, sickening and wide; foreshadowing a wicked scheme and an abysmal tomorrow. Liam paid no attention to the way The Joker backed away from him, heading straight to grab hold of him when-

"Bad idea!" The Joker's words were more of an exclamation than a protest; excited and awaiting. "There are some things set in motion that only I have the power to stop," he said.

Liam almost rolled his eyes behind the black mask. "What are you talking about?" he asked.

The Joker was many things but unprepared was never one of them and Liam knew better than to underestimate him. If he said that there was a plan in motion, then Batman was almost certain that he wasn't lying about it.

"Wouldn't want your precious city getting hurt, would you?" The Joker replied. "Or your sidekick for that matter, huh?" he added.

Liam faltered but recovered quickly. "What are you talking about?" he snapped.

"Now, now," Harry started, noting the anger on Liam's face. "I'm sure he's being entertained," he promised. "My dear Harley never fails to put on a show."

"Tell me!" Batman nearly exploded.

The Joker fostered a short laugh. "They'd never hurt him, no no no!" he tutted. "Not without my word."

"Don't think for a second I won't kill you." Liam spat, marching forward.

Harry continued to back away. "My word, dearest Batman," he said. "No man in this city makes a move without my word," he stated. "Now I wonder what would happen if you silenced me," he toyed. "Think of the mess that would make."

"The only mess in this city is you!" with that Liam had Harry pinned against the wall, his forearm pressed against the man's neck.

"Ever wonder what happens to those who sneak out past midnight?" Harry quizzed, calm despite the arm against his throat.

"You better talk before you no longer have the option to," Liam hissed, slamming Harry against the brick wall.

The Joker let out a laugh, sharp and volatile, bouncing and cascading through the streets and into the shadows.

"Harley Quinn, of course."

"What about them?" Liam shouted, punctuating his words with another abrupt pounding of The Joker into the bricks.

Another laugh, just as sickening. "I think our sidekicks might get along, don't you?"

Liam let his grip on The Joker slip and the villain composed himself slightly, straightening out his shirt and smiling widely. There was rage in his eyes when Liam looked back up at him.

"I'll kill you."

Harry grinned a wicked grin. "Well then," he started. "You really should try to catch me."

There was a puff of smoke. Grey silk spiralled through the black air in twisting delight. It flared for a moment, dark and delicious, before it resigned entirely, leaving behind nothing but an empty street with three dead bodies on the floor.

***

After leaving the house, Louis had prepared to be, well, unprepared. But despite his preparations, or more so lack of, he was still completely and utterly surprised by the being that he came to face on his way to find Liam.

"You're not as pretty as he said you are."

Louis spun on his heels to face the rather dainty voice that he was almost certain addressed him. The culprit was stood a few meters away from him with their shoulder leant against the cold, brick wall. There was a red-lipped smile on their face and their eyes were bright and delightful. Louis knew that face in an instance; dark black hair finished with red and blue tips,  high, pronounced cheekbones, and a black heart just beneath the eye. The figure pushed themselves off of the wall and stepped towards Robin with a smile on their face.

"And you're sure not as pretty as me," they finished.

Louis fished-mouthed, taking a step back as he regained some of his confidence. "I thought you'd be-"

The opponent cut him off with a sharp laugh. "Wrong!" they exclaimed.

"I didn't even-"

There was another laugh, less vicious this time and Louis visibly faltered.

"What's so funny?" Robin demanded, folding his arms across his chest.

"Everything," Harley replied, delighted.

Louis squinted at them, tightening his arms across his torso and huffing softly. "I don't see the joke," he grumbled to himself.

"That's why he likes you," Harley replied. "You're a challenge."

And then they were stepping closer, brushing back the blue strands of hair from their face so that it was smoothed into a black quiff. In this light, Louis could see that the villain was dressed conspicuously; black leather trousers and an open, red leather jacket that showcased the skin of their toned stomach, lean chest, narrow shoulders and soft, muscular arms.

"Didn't Batman ever tell you it's rude to stare?" Harley quizzed.

Louis almost flinched at this, looking away immediately. "Sorry, I-"

"You sure are polite for an enemy of mine," Harley noted, walking towards him.

Louis almost backed up before remembering that he wasn't to be scared by Harley, so he stood his ground.

"Not here to kill you," Harley said softly, almost alluring in the way that they spoke. "Not without the boss man's say so."

Robin swallowed but relaxed at this revelation. "Where is he?" Louis asked.

Harley let out another laugh. "Wouldn't you like to know," they muttered tauntingly. "I'm here to give you a message," they finally announced.

Louis turned to them, all ears as the criminal pulled a piece of paper from the front of their trousers. Robin blinked at the display, recoiling slightly when Harley tried to hand him the paper.

"Take it, bat-baby, I haven't got all day."

Louis reached out for it shyly before taking the piece of paper and sliding it into his pocket.

"Well, aren't you gonna read it?" Harley asked.

Louis shook his head slightly, backing away; Harley rolled their eyes in reply. There was a slight crash in the distance, followed by the sound of people coming closer. Louis turned to where the sound was coming from, glancing over his shoulder for a moment, but by the time he turned back Harley was gone.

***

On the other side of Gotham, Liam was running through the streets in a race against time. As soon as he got to his car, he dove into the front seat and whizzed through the open roads as fast as he could go without causing damage to his beloved vehicle.

When he finally reached the mansion that he and Louis had grown up in, he sped down the long, winding driveway and pulled up just outside the front doors. Without taking a moment to compose himself, Liam was in the house and jogging up the rounded staircase.

"Hey, Louis!" he called, almost bursting into his little brother's room.

He was about to call again when a small figure came from the en suite. "Yeah?" Louis replied.

Liam visibly relaxed. "Oh!" he said in shock. "Oh, hey," he added, more softly this time. "You okay?" he asked.

Louis nodded, smiling sleepily before yawning. "What'd you do?" he asked. "You catch him?"

Liam sighed shaking his head. "Not today," he answered

Louis nodded in acknowledgement. "You will," he said softly, rocking gently on his feet.

Liam smiled in reply, pausing for a moment before asking. "You sure you're okay?"

"Of course," Louis replied immediately. "Why wouldn't I be?" he asked.

Liam shrugged nonchalantly. "No reason," he said. "You know how The Joker likes his mind games."

Louis hesitated, "What'd he say?" the boy almost whispered.

Liam shook his head. "Nothing for you to worry about, alright?" he replied, taking a step closer. "Get some sleep," he added, ruffling Louis' hair softly before turning on his heels and leaving the room.

There was a 'goodnight' whispered by Louis that was echoed by Liam as the older man shut the bedroom door.

Once Liam's footsteps could be heard echoing in the far distance of the hallway, Louis pulled his hand from behind his back and opened it slowly, looking down at the tattered piece of paper and opening up the folds carefully. There was scrawly writing, deep-set creases and a red stain, which could easily be blood, running across the left edge of the paper.

Louis read each tainted word carefully.

Tomorrow at midnight, our place. Don't be early,

Your loving Joker.

Chapter Text

7: Resume of a Radge

-----

Nighttime in Gotham City was bad enough. As soon as the sun sank and made way for the starlight, the city turned red. Now, Batman had most of the city under control but deep in the corners was where the corruption was hiding and at midnight, well, that's when the sinners came to life.

Louis was careful, cautious even, to not be seen or heard in this part of town. The border where good turns to evil. He didn't fight without Liam and certainly didn't want his brother to find out that he was sneaking around without him.

The sound of glass shattering echoed in the distance and groups of men jeered and yelled. The city smelt as though it were on fire. Smoke in the air and sparks in the sky.

"You made it."

The voice made Louis turn in an instant.

"Joker," Louis greeted.

Harry tipped his head. "My favourite little hero."

Louis felt his cheeks warm up. "What did you call me here for?"

"Would you believe me if I said I just wanted to see you?"

Louis shook his head.

"Well, I have a proposition," Harry stated.

"A proposition?" Louis echoed. "For me?"

Harry smiled. "For you."

Louis tilted his head. Harry stepped towards him. Louis stepped back.

"Surely you're not still scared of me, darling?" Harry asked. "I left a heart on my note to you and everything."

Louis frowned.

"Well, someone's heart..." Harry grinned.

Louis gasped. "That's-"

"Romantic, I know," Harry cut him off. "I can be when I want to be."

Louis blinked at him, lost for words.

Harry stepped closer again and Louis held his ground this time.

"What would you say if I asked you to work with me?" Harry asked.

Louis pulled a face, his mouth opening and closing before he spoke. "I would say I need to wake up from whatever bad dream I'm having."

"No dreams," Harry promised. "Just you and me and a secret mission."

"What mission?"

Harry grinned. "I want to help you."

"Help me?" Louis asked. "Help me what?"

Harry chuckled, dark and violent. "Have you ever thought that Batman could be doing this on purpose?" The Joker questioned,

Louis blinked. "Doing what?"

The Joker's smile remained. "Holding you back," he replied.

"Holding me back from what?"

"Being the best you can be, of course!" Harry clarified. "Holding back from teaching you- from letting you out at night, from helping you succeed."

"You really are crazy!" Louis stated. "Why would he do that?"

The Joker scoffed, teeth on show. "Why wouldn't he?" he asked. "It makes him look above you and it stops you from getting into all sorts of trouble," he explained.

"You're insane. That makes no sense," Louis said boldly.

Harry shook his head. "It makes perfect sense," he insisted. "Think about it," he urged. "Why on earth would Batman want you to be as great as he is?" he questioned.

"He teaches me everything he knows!" Louis exclaimed.

"Does he?"

Louis scoffed, lost for words.

Harry stepped closer to him. "I could teach you everything."

Louis took a step back, shaking his head. "You're-"

"Crazy?" Harry questioned. "So I've heard."

"You are if you think I want your help!" Louis exclaimed. "You're delusional," he concluded.

"Am I?" The Joker questioned. "Or is that you?"

"I'm not crazy," Louis promised. "I see things very clearly," he added. "I know that you're trying to mess with my head."

"Am I really the one messing with your head?" Harry taunted. "Or is it the B-man?" he sang.

"Stop it!" Louis shook his head. "I have to go," he backed away from Harry.

"He's playing mind games with you, Robin!" Harry called after him. "I can help you!"

Louis was already running.

***

Louis avoided the streets after dark, not daring to venture into the wrong side of town for a few nights after seeing The Joker. He spent his time with Batman: organising, planning, and helping him in any way that a sidekick could.

Liam was keeping low- or as low as possible for a superhero- and the town was hectic because of it. Fights had broken out the past two nights and Batman was nowhere to be seen. Truth be told, Liam had bigger things on his mind; he needed to find the reason for The Jokers' fixation on Louis. Of course, he couldn't let Louis in on his digging and kept himself locked away with the occasional help from Niall, his most trusted assistant.

Louis though, couldn't always be avoided; if there was one thing he was good at it was being persistent.

"Who's 'Harry'?" Louis asked, looking over the file.

Liam almost jumped at the sounds of Louis' voice behind him, lost in thought as he stared at the images on the table.

There was a picture of The Joker, dark curls with streaks of bottle green. His face was painted white, his eyes dark and his lips red. He's be recognised by anyone living in Gotham in an instant. There was a picture of Harley Quinn, dark hair with blue and red tips, a pretty face and tattoos poking out from under their fitted T-shirt, a heart painted just below their eye.

The final picture through, was someone who Louis didn't recognise. The picture was a small Polaroid of a man with tanned skin and dark curly hair framing a handsome face. His eyes looked straight into the camera and Louis felt as though he could see the man through the picture. He wore a dark-fitted T-shirt and a cross-chain dangled from his neck. The picture was labelled 'Harry'.

Liam shook his head. "Harry doesn't exist anymore," he stated, turning to face Louis.

Louis turned to him, brows furrowed. "What happened to him?"

Liam huffed out a laugh. "He happened to him," he pressed a finger to the picture of The Joker.

"He killed him?" Louis asked.

Liam laughed again. "Pretty much," he muttered. "He killed him over time," he continued. Louis gave him a look of confusion and Liam clarified. "Harry is who The Joker used to be."

Louis shook his head. "I don't understand."

Liam picked up the picture of Harry in one hand and the mugshot of The Joker in the other. "He went insane," Liam said softly, sliding the picture of The Joker over the picture of Harry until it was covered completely. "He turned himself into this."

Louis blinked, confused. "That's what he...? That's what The Joker looks like?"

"Under all that makeup, yes. Or- he used to? No one's seen this face in a long time," Liam pulled the pictures apart again.

Louis' eyes trained on the picture of Harry. The image was fuzzy and unclear, but Louis could still see how normal he once looked- how beautiful even. "Harry?" Louis repeated softly.

"That was a long time ago," Liam placed the pictures back onto the table.

Louis finally dragged his eyes away from Harry and looked up at his brother. "Why'd he do that?"

"Sometimes there is no reason," Liam shrugged. "Sometimes people are just bad."

"I don't believe that," Louis muttered.

Liam turned to him with a soft smile. "I'm glad you don't," he stated. "The second you do, you won't be you anymore."

Louis pulled a face, brows furrowed. Liam smiled at him.

"You see the best in people," Batman clarified. "Not only is that a good thing, it's a part of who you are," he explained. "Hold onto that."

"Hold onto what?" Louis asked.

"Hope," Liam stated. "For a brighter tomorrow. For faith in the future. We all need it," he said. "Carry it for the both of us because right now-" Liam looked at the pictures on the table. "I'm losing all hope in humanity."

Louis frowned but nodded.  "Okay," he said softly. "I will."

***

Louis stood behind Batman on stage as he addressed the city in a press conference. Louis wore his mask to to conceal the top of his face and a fitted red T-shirt; his look as 'Robin'.

"-and I can assure you, whilst I'm around, if you cause any form of disturbance in my city, believe me when I say that I will become your worst nightmare," Liam was interrupted by cheers from the crowd; even the mayor clapped fiercely. Louis glanced down at the mayor's feet- no Crocs this time, thank God. "Everywhere you go, every move you make, just know that I will be watching you and just know that I will be serving justice to those who do not uphold the order of Gotham City."

The crowd erupted again. People in the audience held banners with drawings of Batman and held signs up in his honour. Liam stepped away from the microphone and the mayor stepped forward.

"Thank you, sir!" he nodded his head to Liam and shook his hand firmly. "Thank you from all of us!" he turned back to the crowd. "Give it up for our city's hero, Batman, everyone!"

The cheering continued. Liam stepped towards Louis. He could see the younger man raise his brows through the mask. They shared an amused look that no one else could see.

"-that goes for any one of you who decide that causing trouble in this city is worth the price. Just know that you will be found. You will be caught and you, most certainly, will be punished," the mayor continued. "As long as my-"

Louis leant closer to Liam. "How much more of this?"

Liam huffed out a laugh. "Can't you just stand there and look pretty?"

"That's what I've been doing isn't it?"

Liam grinned behind his mask. "I think he'll go on for another ten minutes."

"If we're lucky," Louis agreed.

"Hey, at least he's not wearing Crocs this time."

Louis stifled a laugh.

The crowd cheered again and the mayor backed away from the microphone as the audience chanted 'Batman', fists pumping in the air. Liam nodded his head graciously. Louis watched him in awe.

Chapter Text

8: Schemes of a Schizophrenic

-----

"Your little show yesterday was...admirable."

Louis always seems to hear him before he sees him. He doesn't turn around this time, just keeps walking.

"The silent treatment, sweetheart?" The Joker called after him. "I thought we were past that."

The streets were not yet dark and Louis hadn't expected to see Harry at this time in the evening. He'd just finished a job for Liam, taking a statement from one of the witnesses of last week's bank robbery committed by none other than The Joker himself. Liam was sure they'd be able to get one of his accomplices to crack the information on where The Joker was hiding.

The plan was to take him by surprise in his own home. He controlled the streets, especially at night, but rumour has it that no one had ever been to The Joker's lair before; thus, he would be unprotected and alone.

The Joker caught up with Louis, grabbing the boy's arm and spinning him around so that they were facing.

Louis pulled from his grip but Harry was stronger, more insistent. His face hardened when he looked at Louis this time.

"It's rude to ignore people," The Joker said firmly. "Didn't Batman ever teach you that?"

Louis hadn't seen this side of him in a while, the side of him that looked as though every bit of emotion had been drained out. His face was like stone; cold and heartless.

Louis swallowed. "Sorry."

The Joker reached out to touch Louis' face and the boy tried not to flinch as the cool metal of Harry's rings grazed his cheek.

"Did you think about what I asked you?" Harry slowly let go of him.

Louis blinked at him. "What you asked me?"

"My proposition. You, me, working together," he said. "All the things I could teach you."

Louis shook his head. "My answer is the same as before," he replied. "You're ridiculous."

Harry's eyes fluttered shut for a moment. When they opened again, his stare was cold. "I saw you yesterday on stage. Stood behind him, like you always are," he said. "Why was no one chanting for Robin?"

"You were there?"

"I'm everywhere."

"I don't mind being in the background," Louis said finally.

Harry smiled at this, some warmth coming back to his eyes. "Sweetheart, you're too pretty not to be the star of the show." Louis felt his cheeks heat up. "They should have your picture hung up in galleries."

Louis didn't say anything.

"Let me help you." 

Louis shook his head. "I don't want it. Any of it."

The Joker laughed at this, sharp and vicious. "No?"

Louis stepped back. "No."

"You have such potential," The Joker told him. "I could make you into the greatest hero the world has ever seen."

"And what could you teach me that he couldn't?"

Harry grinned. "I can think of a hundred things."

"Name one."

Harry licked his lips. "I could teach you how to be free."

Robin furrowed his brows, searching Harry's eyes for answers. "Free?"

"Free," The Joker repeated. "We could have so much fun together."

Louis almost laughed. "I don't believe that you and I have the same ideas of fun."

"Only one way to find out."

Louis eyed him up and down, trying to figure him out. "Whatever game you're playing-"

"No games," Harry held his hands up in defence. "Just you and me."

Louis swallowed. "I don't understand you."

"Then let me be clear," Harry started. "I just want to help you, Robin," he said. "Nothing more," he promised. "I think you're capable of so much more, but you have to let me help unlock your potential."

Louis humoured him. "What do you have in mind?"

Harry grinned, silver teeth on show. He stepped towards Louis, cradling the younger man's face in both of his hands. "I thought you'd never ask."

And that is how The Joker and Robin began their own little secret.

***

Liam and Louis were too late.

The criminals were long gone by the time the heroes arrived at the bank. Masked criminals, a lot of them by the sound of the witness reports.

It wasn't the first robbery of a large bank this month.  Each time the heroes just couldn't seem to make it in time before the criminals had disappeared into the night, seemingly without a trace. The cameras had mysteriously cut out twenty minutes before the crime took place and the security mechanisms had failed. An inside job, Liam and Louis suspected.

They'd left a note too, directly addressed to Batman 'Catch us if you can'. Liam had crumpled it in his hands, fists balled so tightly that Louis was afraid he might pull a muscle.

Louis could tell, even behind the mask, that Batman was enraged.

"If we could've just-"

"We were far away," Louis said softly, cutting Liam off.

Liam shook his head. "I should've..."

"You couldn't have done anything."

Liam's nose twitched. "I need to go after them before they get too far."

Louis sighed. "Hey, we will get them. But, for now, we need to make sure everyone here is okay."

Liam was silent for a moment. "There's going to be a press conference. The mayor will address the town." Louis looked at him with a soft frown. "They're going to ask me how anyone could get away with this."

Louis shook his head. "It's not your fault," he promised.

"Isn't it?"

"No!" Louis exclaimed "How is it your fault?" he asked. "It's these... these criminals."

"I'm not doing enough," Liam replied. "People should be terrified to commit crimes in this city and, yet, each week is worse than the next. They should fear me."

"This is not your fault," Louis repeated. "Okay?"

Liam huffed, nose still twitching under his mask. He shook his head before heading back to his car. Louis followed him with a soft sigh.

***

Louis wasn't the perfect sidekick. He didn't do as he was told all the time, or listen to every command that Liam gave him.

But he could help in some way. Perhaps in unconventional ways. But help, nonetheless.

Louis knew that somehow, in some form, he had a hold over The Joker. He didn't know to what extent, nor was he willing to risk finding out. He knew, though, that despite The Joker's volatile temper and tendency to kill without any regard for human life, he was different in some way around Louis.

Now, Louis didn't trust him- not in the slightest. But he did believe that maybe, just maybe, he could use whatever hold he did have over The Joker to his advantage. As long as Batman didn't find out.

Again, he wasn't the perfect sidekick.

Almost as soon as he ventured into the border of downtown Gotham, Louis felt himself being spun around and pressed into a stone wall. He let out a soft groan at the impact.

When he opened his eyes, he was face to face with The Joker, who was looking down at him and licking his lips.

"My, isn't this a surprise?" 

Louis swallowed, blinking up at him. "Is it?" he asked.

The Joker smiled down at him. "I saw you just yesterday," he said. "A pleasant surprise to see you so soon."

Louis hummed softly. "How'd you know I'd be here?"

"I saw you coming," Harry told him. "I have eyes everywhere."

Louis blinked at him. "That's what I'm counting on."

Harry tilted his head, looking over Louis curiously. "You need my help?" he asked, and Louis nodded softly. "Do go on."

Louis swallowed, looking Harry up and down, eyeing how they were still pressed together. "Can you...?" he trailed off.

Harry hesitated for a moment before slowly pulling himself away from Louis, giving the boy half a meter of space. "I'm listening."

"I need you to tell me about the robbery yesterday," Louis started.

Harry smiled at him. "And what makes you think I know anything about it?"

"Thought you had eyes everywhere."

Harry grinned. "They're all busy watching you."

Louis faltered. "Me?"

"You," Harry said softly. "My number one hero."

Louis gaped at him for a moment before swallowing. "I-"

"Am flattered?" Harry questioned. "You should be."

"No, I-"

"Want to join me?" Harry cut in. "Yes, I thought you'd never ask."

"No!" Louis snapped. "Can you just-"

"Kiss me?" Harry muttered, stepping closer to Robin. "Right in the street?" he said softly. "Why of course."

He pressed Louis back into the wall and the smaller boy squeaked, pushing him back.

"Harry!"

Harry's face faltered, but only for a moment before he grinned. "Look at you, pulling out all of the party tricks," he praised. "How long have you known my name, Louis?"

Louis blinked, throat going dry. "How did you-?"

Harry just grinned at him, dark and dashing, as playful as ever. He pulled back slightly, leaving Louis a few inches of space.

"You aren't the only one who does their research," Harry told him, looking Louis over. "But, now that we're on first name basis-"

"We are not on first-name basis!"

"No?" Harry asked; Louis shook his head firmly. "But, Louis, it sounds so lovely when you say my name."

"Don't call me that."

Harry watched the boy carefully, licking his lips. "You can call me Harry all you want, darling," he told him. "But to respect your wishes, Robin, I'll use your hero title."

Louis swallowed. "I need you to tell me about the robbery."

"What about it, Robin, be specific."

"Was it you?"

"I didn't do it, " The Joker answered.

Louis could've screamed in frustration. "Were you behind it?"

"A different question entirely."

"Were you?" Robin pressed.

The Joker raised a brow at Louis, eyeing the boy thoughtfully. "I knew that it was going to happen," he said finally.

Louis looked The Joker in the eye. "You know who did it?" he asked. 

"Yes."

Louis narrowed his eyes, exasperated. "Who?"

Harry thought about it for a second. "Arne Sullivan."

Louis furrowed his brows, quiet for a moment before he replied. "That's it? You're just going to tell me?"

"Why not?" The Joker asked. "You can't do anything with the information."

Louis frowned at him. "And why's that?"

Harry grinned, his hands suddenly going to Louis' shoulders, pressing the boy into the wall. The hero let out a squeak of surprise as The Joker's lips went to Louis' throat, hovering mere inches from his skin.

"What will you tell the B-man when he asks you how you know?" Harry questioned, his hand trailing over Louis' throat. "Will you tell him of our secret meetings?" he asked, running his thumb over Louis' bottom lip. "Will you let him know how I touch you at night?" he whispered into Louis' neck. 

"Hey!" Louis squirmed, attempting to pull away from Harry but The Joker held him tight.

The Joker's nose pressed at Louis' cheek. "By all means, let him know," Harry whispered. "I'm quite proud of how far we've come, hero," the words vibrated against Louis' throat and the hero shivered.

Louis swallowed, squeezing his eyes shut. "I'll tell him that I figured it out. Alone."

Harry stroked his cheek. "Alone?" 

"Alone," Louis confirmed.

There was a moment of silence before Harry dropped him. "Well, by all means, go tell your mentor."

Louis finally opened his eyes. He let out a steady breath before he pulled away, panting as he looked at Harry.

The Joker just grinned at him. "And I will see you tomorrow," he promised.

"We'll see."

Louis ran away into the night. Harry watched after him, as always.

Chapter Text

9: Analysis of an Anti-hero

---

Sullivan was arrested. They found him at home, sitting on nearly two million in cash, maps of the vaults, and unlicensed weapons. It was exactly as Harry had said.

The whole ordeal was surprisingly simple. Louis had pieced together a loose connection of names, feeding just enough to Liam to warrant a closer look at Sullivan. When they did investigate, it became clear that cameras had caught him and his gang minutes before the robbery, loading into a stolen vehicle.

A few more damning details surfaced, and soon Liam had the police on board for a full search of Sullivan's property. Lo and behold, Louis had been right. Or, more accurately, Harry had been.

Now, Louis lingered in the corner of the room as Liam paced, phone in hand, his voice low but sharp.

"Two million in cash," Liam said, the disbelief heavy in his tone. "Maps of the vaults, unlicensed weapons... He's going away for life."

Louis stared at his boots, steadying his breathing.

Liam's tone shifted as if he thought Louis couldn't hear. "Still don't know where the tip came from. Everything fell into place too cleanly... too perfectly."

Louis' chest tightened.

"Yeah, we'll need to investigate his connections further," Liam said. "This doesn't feel like his work alone."

Batman exchanged a brief goodbye to who Louis could only assume was Niall on the other end. Giving his friend a couple of leads to explore.

Finally, Liam hung up and turned to Louis, his sharp gaze softening. "Some day, huh?"

Louis forced a small smile. "Yeah."

Leaning against the desk, Liam folded his arms. "Can't believe we got him," he said with a huff of surprise. "As easy as that, too."

"It just... lined up right," Louis said quietly.

Liam nodded slowly, his brow furrowing. "Sometimes things just line up. Doesn't mean I don't question it."

Louis didn't respond, his fingers tightening against his sleeves.

"If there's ever anything you need to tell me..." Liam's tone softened, but the weight of his words hung in the air. "You know you can, right?"

"Of course," Louis replied quickly, avoiding his brother's eyes.

For a moment, Liam studied him, but then he sighed, ruffling Louis' hair as he passed. "You did good today, little brother."

The words should've felt like praise, but instead, they left Louis' stomach twisting.

As soon as Liam's footsteps retreated, Louis let out a shaky breath. He needed to get out of there.

***

The old factory smelled of rust and damp, its shadows stretching long under the flicker of a single bulb. Louis hadn't expected Harry to keep his word. He'd assumed their "partnership" would be chaos, just another one of The Joker's twisted games. But the man—if he could even be called that—was true to his word. At least, so far.

"You're late, sweetheart," Harry's voice drawled from the shadows. He leaned lazily against the rusted railing, his painted face catching the faint light. That grin, sharp and unhinged, never wavered. "Catch the criminal? Save the girl?"

"Something like that," Louis muttered, stepping closer.

"Glad I could be of service," Harry said, his grin widening. "But you're still late."

"I wasn't sure this was a good idea," Louis admitted, crossing his arms.

"Oh, it's not," Harry replied, stepping closer. His movements were slow, deliberate, as though savouring the tension. "But that's the fun part, isn't it?"

Louis ignored the jab, forcing himself to focus. "You said you'd teach me. I'm here to learn."

Harry tilted his head, his eyes glittering with amusement. "Learn what, exactly? How to swing a bat? How to blow something up? You've got to be more specific, darling."

Louis hesitated. "How to stop waiting in the background. How to act before someone else does it for me."

The grin that spread across Harry's face was almost predatory. "Oh, you want to take control. I like that," he said, circling Louis. "But that's not something I can teach you, kitten. That's something you just have to take."

Louis bristled at the nickname but didn't correct him. "Then tell me how you do it. How you get people to follow you, even when they know you're dangerous."

Harry stopped, his gaze boring into Louis. "Oh, you're not asking me to make you a hero, are you?" he said softly. "You want to learn how to be a king. We're more alike than I thought."

"Call it what you want," Louis said sharply. "Just tell me what I need to know."

For a moment, Harry simply stared, as though weighing Louis' worth. Then, with a sudden laugh, he clapped his hands together. "Alright, sweetheart. Let's make a deal."

"I'm not making any deals with you," Louis snapped.

Harry smirked, his silver teeth catching the light. "Oh, but you already have," he purred.

Louis' eyes narrowed. "What kind of deal?"

Harry's grin widened. "Not the kind you sign, darling. The kind you live," he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You learn from me, you take what I give you, and in return... you don't fight what you're becoming."

Louis stiffened. "I'm not becoming anything."

Harry laughed again, sharp and unhinged. "Oh, sweetheart, you've already started. The doubt, the fire in your eyes, the way you want this... It's all in there, Robin," he tapped Louis' chest lightly with a finger. "You just need a little push."

"I'm not like you," Louis snapped.

Harry tilted his head, studying him with mock sympathy. "Not yet."

Louis swallowed hard. "Are you going to teach me something?" he asked. "Or should I leave?"

The sparkle in Harry's eyes was ignited. "Lesson one: You don't ask for power. You take it. And when you've got it? You never, ever let anyone take it back."

Louis squared his shoulders. "Show me."

Harry shook his head. "No, you show me."

The tension in the air was electric as Louis lunged, swinging his fist hard, but Harry ducked easily, stepping out of range.

"Predictable," Harry teased, his voice light and amused.

Louis growled in frustration, throwing another punch. This time, Harry caught his wrist mid-swing and twisted it, forcing Louis off balance. Before Louis could recover, Harry's other hand shot out, grabbing the collar of his jacket and yanking him forward.

"Come on, sweetheart," Harry murmured, his face inches from Louis'. "I thought you wanted to learn."

Louis shoved him back, breaking Harry's grip and throwing a knee toward his stomach. Harry blocked it with a grin, but Louis followed up with a quick jab that grazed his cheek.

Harry laughed, spinning out of reach. "Better. But not good enough."

Louis charged again, but Harry sidestepped, his hand darting out to grab Louis' arm. In one swift motion, he twisted it behind Louis' back, pulling him close.

Louis' back was pressed flush against Harry's front. Harry held the boy to his chest for a moment, just pinning him there. 

"You're too tense," Harry said, his breath warm against Louis' ear. "Loosen up, darling. Fighting's supposed to be fun."

With a sharp jerk, Louis broke free, twisting around to land a solid punch to Harry's ribs. The blow forced Harry back a step, and Louis used the moment to grab him by the throat, slamming him hard against the wall.

Harry's grin faltered slightly as Louis pressed his forearm against his neck, cutting off his air.

"Good," Harry said, his voice calm despite the pressure against his throat. "But is it good enough?"

Louis pressed harder against his throat. His grip was firm, his stance solid.

"Careful, sweetheart," Harry rasped, his grin still in place. "You choke me any harder, and I might think you're enjoying this."

"Stop it," Louis demanded.

"Stop what?" Harry taunted. "Making you doubt yourself? Putting you on edge? Making you wonder if you've done everything right? That you're good enough?

Louis' breath hitched.

"You did good, sweetheart, but the thing is..." Harry's voice softened to a near whisper. "You haven't done everything quite right."

Louis' heart raced, his grip faltering for a split second. Doubt crept in.

"Five," Harry murmured.

Louis' jaw tightened.

"Four."

He widened his stance, bracing himself.

"Three."

"Joker—"

"Two."

Harry's grin widened.

"One."

There was a beat of silence, heavy and tense. Louis' grip faltered ever so slightly, confusion flickering across his face.

"You see, Robin," Harry murmured, his voice low and teasing. "You didn't do anything wrong," he leaned in closer, his grin widening. "Apart from doubting yourself."

The words hit Louis like a blow, his chest tightening.

"And now that I've put you on edge..." Harry's voice turned sharper, cutting through the silence. "You're weak."

Before Louis could react, Harry moved like a whip, twisting free with startling speed. In one fluid motion, he wrenched his arm from Louis' grasp and locked his hand around Louis' wrist.

"And now I'm in control," Harry whispered, his voice almost soft as he freed his other hand and shoved Louis back.

Louis hit the concrete hard, groaning as he sat up.

"Don't doubt yourself again," Harry said, towering over him. "Doubt makes you weak."

"Why are you telling me this?" Louis asked. 

"I only want the best version of you by my side when you join me," Harry replied easily.

Louis glared at him. "You know I'll never join you."

Harry chuckled, his laughter low and mocking. "Oh, I think you will. Sooner or later."

He stepped back into the shadows.

"You're not going to win," Louis called after him, forcing himself to his feet.

Harry stopped, glancing back with a smirk. "Darling, I already have," his grin was the last thing Louis saw before the darkness swallowed him whole.

Chapter Text

10: Mindset of a Maniac

-----

Louis entered the dimly lit factory, his boots echoing off the cracked concrete floor. The warehouse was grey, almost misty

A low, melodic whistle broke the silence. It was deliberate, almost playful.

Louis froze, his eyes darting around the room, searching for the source.

"Looking for me?" the voice was smooth, teasing.

Louis' heart skipped, a familiar tension creeping into his chest as he caught sight of Harry perched above him against the stair railings, that mischievous grin spreading across his face.

Louis gritted his teeth, dashing forward; Harry was gone before he reached the stairs. Louis blinked, turning around. His eyes flickered around for any sign of movement. He caught a flash of white and lunged toward it, but his hand caught only air.

Robin let out a frustrated huff, turning again.

"Feisty today, aren't we?" Harry teased, stepping out from the shadows with a sly grin.

Louis didn't reply. Without warning, he charged forward, swinging a punch with all his force. Harry ducked under the first strike, and Louis followed through with a second, aiming for Harry's side. Harry stepped back, but Louis closed the distance, his body tense and focused. He swung at Harry again, almost catching him.

"Look at you," Harry remarked, dodging another blow. "You've been practising."

Harry launched himself forward with a speed that took Louis by surprise. The fight was on.

They collided. Each movement was swift and calculated, both trying to outmanoeuvre the other. Louis wasn't holding back. They grappled, slipping and sliding on the cold floor, punches and kicks thrown with precision. But no matter how hard Louis tried, Harry always seemed to anticipate his moves, always one step ahead.

Louis pushed back, gritting his teeth as Harry's taunting grin remained. Louis dove at him again and Harry leant into it this time, sending them both tumbling to the ground. Louis found himself straddling Harry's waist, his legs on either side of Harry's hips. Louis placed a hand on Harry's chest to steady himself, breathing hard.

"What can I say?" Harry asked, a taunting grin curling on his lips, his hands went to rest lazily on Louis' hips. "You caught me."

Louis opened his mouth to speak, but frustration twisted in his throat. He shifted his weight, trying to stand, but Harry's hand went to tug at the hem of his T-shirt. "You can't—" Louis stuttered, the words betraying him. "You're not meant to let me catch you."

Harry's grin only deepened as he met Louis' gaze, his voice dropping low, a playful challenge in his tone. "Why not, sweetheart?" he asked, his fingers went to Louis' collar, pulling him closer. "You've got me right where you want me, don't you?"

Louis felt the heat creeping up his neck as Harry's grip pulled him closer still. "Th—that's just not how it works," he managed, voice unsteady.

Harry raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Then why don't you show me how it works?" he offered, his voice low, smooth. He tugged at the collar of Louis' collar, pulling him down so that their faces were inches apart. "How you work."

Louis' breath hitched at the proximity, his lips almost grazing Harry's.  "What do you mean?" he whispered.

Harry's grin deepened, and his grip on Louis' collar tightened. "You know what I mean," he purred. "How do you work, sweetheart? How do you get the job done?"

Louis' chest tightened. Harry's fingers brushed against the skin of his neck; it prickled under his touch.

"You want to, don't you?" Harry asked. "You want to kiss me."

Louis pulled back instinctively, but Harry's other hand shot out, gripping the fabric of his shirt and pulling him right back down. "Don't deny it," Harry murmured, his lips brushing against Louis' skin. "I can feel it. I can feel it in every inch of you."

"Stop," Louis whispered. His hands pushed against Harry's chest, but he didn't have the strength to pull away. "Stop it," he pleaded.

Harry's lips brushed against Louis' ear as he leaned in, his voice dripping with mockery. "Are you embarrassed, Louis? Are you embarrassed about being here with the bad guy?" he taunted, his breath hot against Louis' skin.

Louis flushed a deep red, his heart hammering in his chest at Harry's words. He opened his mouth to protest, but Harry didn't let him speak.

"Whatever would Batman think of this?" Harry's voice was thick with amusement. "Getting so close to the enemy."

Louis' lips parted, a retort ready on his tongue, but the only thing that came out was a low exhale. His mind struggled to process it all. "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer," he said finally. "It's all part of my plan."

Harry raised an eyebrow, his smirk never fading. "Did you plan on getting hard?" he asked, his hips grinding up into Louis, pressing against him in a way that made Louis' breath catch. Louis lost his balance, palm slipping from Harry's chest momentarily.

"Do-don't do that," Louis stammered, his voice betraying him, uneven and raw.

Harry's hand went back to his hip, his grin growing. "I'll take that as a no," he teased, his hands sliding up Louis' body. "I did that to you all by myself."

"Harry, do—"

"Mmm," The Joker moaned, cutting him off, his lips brushing just below Louis' ear. "Say my name again," he purred. "Sounds so lovely when you say it."

Louis pulled back, his lips pressed tightly together in defiance.

"Stubborn one, aren't you?" Harry observed, his voice full of amusement.

Louis tried to push himself off Harry, tried to stand, but Harry's grip on his shirt held him in place. "Not so fast," he murmured, a devilish glint in his eyes.

"Get off of me" Louis snapped, voice firm as he tried to break free.

"Now why would I do that?" Harry asked, still lying beneath him, enjoying every moment of control.

"Because I need to go," Louis replied, trying to free himself.

Harry chuckled. "But, darling, you came to me."

Louis hesitated for a moment, then answered truthfully. "And now I need to go home."

Finally, Harry let go of Louis' collar, allowing him the freedom to stand. Louis wasted no time, jumping to his feet, his chest still heaving from the struggle.

"I win," Louis declared, his voice steady, but the adrenaline still coursing through him.

"How so?" Harry asked, watching Louis with that same gleam in his eyes.

"I'm free, aren't I?" Louis stated, voice soft but confident. "You couldn't catch me."

Harry chuckled, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You let me go," he said smoothly. "You had me right beneath you, and you let me go," he leaned back against the cold floor, his smirk widening. "I won you over," he insisted, his hands stretching up and going to rest behind his head. "I'd call that a win to me."

Louis' nose twitched.

Without another word, Louis turned on his heel, his heart still racing as he sprinted toward the exit. Harry's laughter echoed behind him, a reminder that this wasn't over, not by a long shot.

***

The rain drizzled steadily, washing the grime from Gotham's industrial rooftops. Louis crouched next to Liam, his hood pulled low over his face. He could feel the cold seep through his boots, the dampness making every movement heavier.

"You're late," Liam said without turning, his eyes trained on the alley below.

"Had a rough morning," Louis muttered, pulling his hood tighter against the rain.

Liam glanced at him briefly, his sharp eyes narrowing. "You good?"

"I'm fine," Louis replied quickly.

Liam looked him over for a moment but said nothing. "Down there," he murmured, nodding toward the alley below.

Louis followed his brother's gaze. The black van idling near the side door was unmistakable. A group of men worked quickly, hauling crates into the building under the cover of darkness.

"Sullivan's crew," Liam said quietly, his voice cutting through the rain.

"Think he's inside?" Louis asked.

"Doubt it. He doesn't get his hands dirty," Liam replied, his tone clipped. "But if we take these guys out, we might get the lead we need."

Louis shifted, rolling his shoulders to shake off the stiffness creeping in. His body ached from the morning's encounter with Harry, but he forced himself to focus.

"What's in the crates?" he asked.

"Could be weapons. Could be cash," Liam said, scanning the scene. "Either way, we're stopping them."

"Plan?" Louis prompted, already inching toward the edge of the roof.

"You take the driver. Quietly," Liam instructed, his tone steady and calm. "I'll handle the rest."

Louis hesitated for a moment, his fists clenching at his sides.

"You good?" Liam asked, his voice softer now.

"Yeah," Louis replied, nodding. "I'm fine."

Liam glanced at him, his expression unreadable behind the mask. Then he turned back to the scene below. "Go."

Louis dropped silently into the alley, landing in a crouch. The driver stood near the van, smoking a cigarette and oblivious to the figure approaching from the shadows.

Louis moved quickly, his footsteps light despite the wet pavement. He grabbed the driver in a chokehold, dragging him into the shadows. The man struggled briefly before going limp.

"Driver's down," Louis whispered into his comm.

"Stay sharp," Liam replied.

The remaining crew had no time to react as Liam dropped into their midst like a shadow. He took the first man down with a swift strike to the back of the knee, following it up with a precise elbow to the temple. The second man swung a crowbar at him, but Liam sidestepped effortlessly, disarming him with a sharp twist before knocking him unconscious with a single punch.

The third man reached for a gun, but before he could raise it, a batarang flew through the air, striking his hand and sending the weapon clattering to the ground. Liam closed the distance in an instant, his cape swirling around him as he delivered a powerful kick to the man's chest.

Louis approached as the last of Sullivan's men hit the ground with a heavy thud; Liam straightened, his cape sweeping dramatically behind him. Louis kicked a crowbar out of reach from one of the unconscious men, surveying the scene.

"Clean work," Liam complimented.

"Thanks."

Liam turned to him, his gaze cutting through the dim light. "You sure you're okay?"

"I said I'm fine," Louis snapped.

Liam studied him for a moment,  his jaw tightening. "Alright. Let's just get this done."

Louis nodded, glancing at the scattered bodies. "That's all of them?"

"That's all of them," Batman confirmed. "Let's see what they were carrying."

The brothers moved quickly toward the stacked crates, their muddy boots squelching against the cold, damp floor of the warehouse building. Liam reached the first crate, prying it open with ease. Louis kept watch, his fists clenching as Liam worked.

Louis leaned forward when the lid creaked off—but a hollow space greeted them. Nothing. 

"This doesn't make sense," Liam muttered as he moved to another crate, ripping it open with more force this time. Empty.

Louis frowned, stepping forward. "What were we expecting to find here?"

"Anything," Batman replied. "Money, weapons," he listed. "Based on the intel from Niall, Sullivan was stockpiling arms. They were supposed to be here. Something is supposed to be in her"

Liam opened another crate, his frustration mounting with each empty box.

"Looks like he moved them," Louis murmured, his eyes darting around. 

"They couldn't have cleared out this fast." Liam tore another box open, throwing it to the floor with force once he saw it was empty.

Louis flinched at the sound, stepping back and looking around the warehouse. Liam hurled crates across the room, kicking them in frustration as one after another turned out to be empty.

"We keep losing!" another crack as a crate hit the floor. "The robberies, now this?"

Louis' eyes landed on one of the open crates and he wandered across the room to peer into it. Something small, a flash of colour, caught his attention.

He moved toward it, crouching low, and picked up a folded piece of paper tucked into the corner of the empty crate.

"Found anything?" Batman asked, glancing over.

Louis nearly flinched, too distracted to notice Liam had finished smashing the empty crates.

Robin hesitated, his fingers brushing over the paper. His stomach twisted as he unfolded it, his blood running cold at the messy, scrawled handwriting.

Miss me, sweetheart? Better luck next time. 

The smiley face at the bottom was unmistakable.

"Louis?"

He crumpled the note quickly, tucking it into his pocket before Liam could see. "Nothing," he said.

Batman frowned, his eyes narrowing. "You're sure?"

Louis straightened, his expression unreadable as he turned to face Liam. "Yeah."

Liam studied him momentarily but finally turned back to the crates. "This doesn't add up. Why move empty crates? They should be here. Why aren't they here?"

Louis swallowed hard, his fingers tightening in his pocket. "Right. We'll keep looking."

Batman's nose twitched. "Trail's cold," he said finally. "Let's figure it out tomorrow."

Louis sighed but nodded, following Liam out of the warehouse. He'd have to make his own plans for tonight then.

***

The factory was as cold and desolate as always, but tonight it felt different. The lingering scent of rainwater mixed with rust hung heavy in the air as Louis stepped inside. The faint glow of the moon seeped through the shattered windows of the abandoned factory, casting pale streaks of light across the cracked concrete floor. The air was thick and damp, every breath Louis took formed a faint mist.

Louis entered the room with quiet steps. When his eyes finally landed on his target, he realised that The Joker was in the middle of something—spread out before him was a mass of maps and blueprints. He didn't notice Louis approaching, too absorbed in whatever plan consumed his attention.

Louis stepped closer, watching him. He looked different like this, a soft frown on his face as if he were lost in thought.

A slight flicker of Louis' movement caught The Joker's eye and he looked up, a surprised smile appeared on his face.

Louis swallowed.

"Robin."

There was a moment of silence before Louis answered; his voice came out softer than he'd wanted. "Were you expecting someone else?"

"No one else," Harry told him, voice gentle. "Just you."

Louis blinked at him, eyes travelling to the mess of papers on the floor as he inched closer to the villain.

"Twice in one day, sweetheart?" Harry drawled, lounging comfortably on the floor. "Oh, now you're just spoiling me."

Louis' lips almost twisted in amusement. 

"I thought we were done playing for the day," Harry continued, his tone casual but with an edge of curiosity, as though he didn't expect Louis to return so soon.

Louis hesitated, shifting his weight as he finally looked down at Harry. "I can go if you like," he said. His words held a touch of embarrassment.

Harry's smirk only deepened. "I never said that," he tilted his head, his gaze steady on Louis. "Sit. Let's play."

Louis sat cautiously, kneeling opposite Harry, separated by the pile of papers.

Harry watched him, noting the way his wet hair stuck to his face and his drenched clothes clung to his body. "Look at you. All drenched and dramatic," his eyes lingered on the droplets trailing down Louis' jaw. "You make misery look good, sweetheart."

Louis fixed his eyes on the papers scattered around, but he felt his skin heat up at Harry's words. "What monstrosity are you planning this time?"

"Monstrosity?" The Joker repeated. "You're always so judgemental, Robin," he scolded. "I'm making art," he gestured to the scattered maps.

Louis narrowed his eyes at the papers. "Does this art involve innocent people getting hurt?"

"Not innocent," Harry corrected, tapping the charcoal pencil against his temple. "No one is innocent in Gotham. You should know that by now."

"You're planning something," Louis said, his voice firm. "But it won't work. Sullivan's already gone. We dealt with his crew today. You don't have anyone left to do your dirty work."

"Oh, Arnie," The Joker sighed wistfully. "Poor guy. You know, for someone with no imagination, he sure had a lot of potential."

Louis' nose twitched as he listened to Harry talk.

"How did that go, by the way?" Harry asked. "Your little dance with Arnie's crew?"

Louis scowled at him. "You know how it went," he replied. "I saw your note."

Harry grinned. "So you did find my little love letter?" he asked. "Why didn't you say so?" he muttered. "Here I was thinking I should've painted the whole town red for you to notice me," he added. "Did it make your heart race?"

"What was supposed to be in the crates?"

"Nothing was ever in the crates."

Louis blinked at him. "Then what?" he asked. "It was just a distraction? A waste of time?"

Harry leaned closer. "Because I knew you'd come," he murmured.

Louis glared at him, his voice firm. "If this is one of your games—"

"Oh, it is," Harry cut in smoothly. "And you're playing beautifully." Louis swallowed as The Joker closed the space between them. He was mere inches from Louis' face. "Dedication like yours? Showing up in the middle of the night, all rain-soaked and brooding?" His grin softened into something more intimate. "How could I resist?"

"You're going after weapons," Louis continued, ignoring Harry. "For what? To sell them? To give them to Sullivan's leftovers?"

Harry clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "You're thinking so small, sweetheart. You really think I'd do all this for a few guns? Please."

"Then what?" Louis demanded, his voice rising slightly as he pulled away from Harry.

Harry leaned forward, touching Louis' wet chin for a moment before withdrawing. "What do you think?" he gestured to the papers on the floor. 

Louis sifted through the papers, trying to piece it together. A pattern began to emerge—routes connecting the armoury to Gotham's industrial district, shipments marked with dates and times.

"This isn't about Sullivan," Louis muttered.

"Smart boy," Harry praised. "Keep going, sweetheart, you're so close."

"Then what is it really about?" Louis demanded, his voice sharp but tinged with frustration. "If it's not him, then who? Or what?"

Harry's eyes lit up with amusement as he flipped through a few maps carelessly. "Sullivan. Poor, simple Sullivan," he murmured. "He thought he could play king. But Gotham doesn't need a king, Robin. It needs a... spark," he explained. "Sullivan? He's just a pawn. You and Batman keep chasing crumbs while I'm working on the whole pie."

Louis frowned. "What does that mean?"

Harry picked up one of the maps and waved it lazily before tossing it aside. "What's the fun in a few guns when you can set the whole city ablaze?"

"Enough games!" Louis demanded, leaning closer.

 "Not games," The Joker corrected, his tone almost serious. "The game. And you're my favourite player," his fingers brushing lightly against Louis' sleeve.

"You're insane," Louis snapped, pulling away.

"And you're here," Harry countered smoothly. "What does that say about you?"

Louis shook his head. "I'm done playing," he stood, backing away from Harry.

Harry chuckled, his laughter low and velvety as he watched Louis retreat. "Oh, come on sweetheart," he called after him. "You haven't even figured out what it is yet."

Louis didn't turn as he replied. "I will!" he called.

Harry just grinned. "I'm counting on it, darling. And when you do, I'll be waiting."

Chapter Text

11: Stories of a Sadist

-----

The Batcave hummed with quiet activity. The faint glow of monitors illuminated Liam's stern profile as he replayed the footage of Sullivan's interrogation for the third time. Louis leaned against the console, his arms crossed, eyes flickering over the screen, his mind elsewhere.

On-screen, Sullivan leaned back in his chair, his handcuffs clinking against the steel table. His lips curled into a knowing smirk. "You think I'm the big fish? Nah, boys. I'm just the bait."

The interrogator's voice crackled through the speakers. "Then who's holding the line?"

"Bigger fish," Sullivan replied with a sly grin. "You think you're gonna stop what's coming? You don't even know what you're chasing."

The interrogator leaned forward. "Who's behind it?"

Sullivan's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Doesn't matter. You won't catch him. No one does."

Liam hit pause, his fingers curling into fists on the armrests of his chair. The screen froze on Sullivan's smug expression, his words lingering in the air like a challenge.

"Bigger fish," Liam muttered, his tone edged with frustration. He turned to Louis, his eyes sharp. "Sound familiar to you?"

Louis shrugged, forcing nonchalance. "Could mean anything. Sullivan isn't exactly a poet."

"He's no leader, either," Liam replied. "He's not smart enough to pull something like this off on his own," he muttered. "But we know someone who is."

Louis glanced at him. "The Joker?"

Liam nodded grimly. "Course it's him. No crime like this happens without his say-so. If Sullivan's running jobs, he's doing it with the Joker's blessing—or at least his knowledge."

Liam hit play again. On the recording, Sullivan leaned forward, his smirk softening into something almost reverent. "You don't get it, do you? We're all just pieces on the board. Pawns."

"Who's moving the pieces?" the interrogator asked.

Sullivan hesitated, his grin faltering slightly. He glanced away, his fingers twitching against the table. "Oh, you'll find out. But by the time you do, it'll be too late."

Louis paused the video again. "You hear that?" he said, his voice low. "He's scared."

Liam frowned. "He doesn't look scared."

Louis went back a few frames, pausing on the way Sullivan's smile faltered. Liam squinted at the screen. "There," Louis muttered.

"It'll be too late," Liam repeated.

Louis shook his head, confused. "What does he mean?"

Liam shrugged helplessly, running a hand over his face. "If he knows he's just a pawn, just bait, then maybe he also knows that he's a means to an end," he replied. "You won't survive long in Gotham's underworld if you're no longer of use. Sullivan's scared because he knows exactly whose plan he's part of."

Louis frowned, going back to the recording and replaying the footage. Sullivan's voice played again, this time sharper in Louis' ears. You think I'm the big fish? Nah, boys. I'm just the bait.

"Bait," Louis muttered.

"What?" Liam turned to him.

"Sullivan called himself bait," Louis said, his eyes narrowing as he replayed the scene in his head. "Why bait? What's he luring us into?"

Liam shook his head, shrugging again. "Like you said, Louis, he's no poet."

Louis straightened in his seat, his mind darting back to the empty crates, to the note he found tucked inside. Harry's note felt heavier in his pocket.

"What are you thinking?" Liam asked, eyeing him.

Louis shook his head, unsure. He pressed play.

"What's your role as a game piece then?" the interrogator asked. "You think you can influence the game whilst you're in here?"

On the screen, Sullivan leaned forward, his smirk curling into something darker. "You think this is over, don't you? That locking me up makes any difference?"

The interrogator's voice was sharp. "You're not going anywhere, Sullivan. You're finished."

Sullivan laughed—a low, mocking sound that sent chills through the room. "Finished? Oh, you have no idea what's coming," he leaned back in his chair, his confidence unshaken. "You think the lights stay on in this city without his say-so? Keep dreaming."

Liam's jaw tightened. "This has the Joker's fingerprints all over it."

Louis pressed his lips together, his stomach twisting at Sullivan's words. The way he said it, the way his grin didn't quite reach his eyes—it wasn't just bravado. He knew something.

Liam hit pause on the recording again, rising to his feet and pacing in front of the monitor. "We're missing something," he muttered, his voice tight with frustration.

"A distraction?" Louis suggested. "Maybe the crates were supposed to keep us occupied while something else went down."

Liam frowned. "But nothing else has happened," he countered, gesturing to the monitors. "No alarms, no reports. The city's quiet tonight."

"Too quiet?" Louis offered, his voice barely above a murmur.

Liam's jaw flexed as he stared at the screen. "It doesn't add up."

Louis frowned, glancing back at the frozen screen. Sullivan's smirk had faltered, just for a moment. It was barely there, but it was enough. The recording played again. You think the lights stay on in this city without his say-so?

"He knows something," Liam muttered. "Something big."

Louis nodded softly. "Sullivan's scared. Whatever's coming, it's big enough to have him rattled."

Liam ran a hand through his hair, pacing again. "Then we find out what. If he thinks he's bait, then we follow the line. We figure out what he's luring us into."

Louis nodded slowly, his fingers went to his pocket, squeezing Harry's note. Miss me, sweetheart? Better luck next time. He pressed his lips together. The word bait echoed in his mind, and something clicked.

"What is it?" Liam asked, noticing his change in expression.

Louis hesitated, glancing up. "The warehouse," he said. "There was something about it. Something we missed."

Liam frowned. "You think there's more there?"

"Maybe," Louis said. "It's worth checking out."

Liam nodded. "Then let's go."

"I can handle it," he replied. "You keep working on Sullivan," he said. "See if Niall can set up another interrogation. See if he cracks. If I find anything, I'll call you."

Liam studied him. "You sure?"

Louis nodded, his throat tightening. "Yeah. I've got this."

After a beat, Liam relented, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "Alright," he said. "But if you find anything—anything—you let me know."

"Of course," Louis replied, already heading for the exit.

***

The warehouse was quieter than Louis remembered, the silence broken only by the faint drip of water leaking through the ceiling and the creak of metal beams shifting with the wind. Water dripped from his soaked hair, trailing down his face and pooling at the edges of his gloves. The smell of damp wood and rust was heavier now, mingling with the faint trace of oil and saltwater—something he hadn't noticed before.

Saltwater.

Louis' boots echoed as he moved through the space, his eyes scanning the rows of empty crates scattered haphazardly across the floor. His mind replayed the word over and over. Bait. Sullivan had called himself bait, and Harry had called Louis to the warehouse before with his note. It couldn't be a coincidence.

His gaze landed on one of the crates. The stencil on the side read "Gotham Harbor Logistics." The symbol was unmistakable—two fish hooked on a line, an emblem for the city's shipping district. It had been on Harry's maps too, scrawled beside other chaotic notes and routes. If Sullivan was bait, then this was the hook. The docks were more than a location—they were the beginning of something bigger.

Louis crouched next to the crate, running his fingers along the markings. It made sense now: bait, docks, shipments. Whatever Harry was planning, it wasn't random. It was tied to the harbour.

"You're getting quicker, sweetheart."

The voice, smooth and teasing, cut through the silence. Louis stiffened, his fingers curling into fists. He turned slowly to see Harry perched on a stack of crates, his grin wide and knowing.

"I knew you'd figure it out," Harry continued, his eyes glinting in the dim light. "Smart boy."

Louis straightened, his jaw tightening. "What are you doing here?"

Harry tilted his head, feigning innocence. "I could ask you the same thing. It's awfully late for a solo mission, don't you think? Batman finally let you off your leash?"

Louis bristled at the comment but didn't rise to the bait. "You left the crates empty on purpose," he said. "This was all a setup."

Harry hopped down from the crate with surprising grace, landing lightly in front of Louis. He took his time straightening his jacket, his eyes raking over Louis as though committing every detail to memory. "You're a mess," he said with a chuckle, reaching out as if to brush a strand of wet hair from Louis' forehead.

Louis jerked his head back before Harry could touch him. "Don't."

"Oh, come on, sweetheart," Harry said, his grin softening into something almost affectionate. "You've gone through all this trouble, trudging through the rain, piecing together my little puzzle... You look like a tragic painting. Let me admire my work."

Louis swallowed. "You set this up?" he tried again.

Harry's grin widened. "Of course it was. Did you really think I'd make it that easy for you? Come on, Robin. Give me some credit," he reached out, brushing a raindrop from Louis' jaw before he could pull away.

"Whatever you're planning, I'll figure it out," Louis told him. "We'll stop you."

Harry's eyes gleamed with amusement. "Stop me?" he repeated, his voice a low murmur. "Darling, you don't even know what 'it' is."

Louis pulled away from him. "You handed Sullivan over. Why?"

"Because he was boring," Harry replied smoothly. "Predictable. Just like your brother."

Louis blinked. "What are you talking about?"

"Batman," Harry said, his tone dripping with disdain. "He's predictable. Always a few steps behind. But you? You're sharp. Quick. You figured it out before he even realized there was a puzzle to solve," he stepped closer to Louis. "You came back here, didn't you? Followed the clues, put the pieces together. That's what makes you special, sweetheart. You're not like him."

"You're ridiculous!"

Harry shook his head. "I left the note for you, Robin. You're fun to play with," he said. "Batman? He's boring. But you? You surprise me. You get my blood pumping. You make it all worth it."

"We're partners, he and I."

"Are you?" Harry asked, taking another step closer. "Or are you just his shadow? Cleaning up his messes, following his orders, never stepping out of line."

Louis' throat tightened. "That's not true."

"Isn't it?" Harry murmured, his voice dropping as he reached out, brushing a finger along the edge of Louis' jacket. "You're better than him, Robin. You can see the bigger picture. Can't you?"

Louis stepped back, shaking off Harry's touch. "You're trying to get in my head."

Harry laughed, low and amused. "Maybe. Or maybe I'm just telling you the truth. You're wasted on him, Louis. All that fire, all that potential—chained to a man who doesn't even see it."

Louis glared at him, his heart pounding. "You're trying to turn me against him."

"No," Harry said, his grin fading slightly. "I'm trying to make you see what you already know. You don't need him. You don't need anyone."

Louis' jaw tightened, his fists trembling at his sides. "You're wrong."

Harry licked his lips. "Alright fine, maybe you need me."

Louis took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm. "What's the harbour got to do with your plan?"

Harry's grin returned, sharp and playful. "Now, now, Robin. That would ruin the surprise."

"You've got shipments coming in," Louis pressed. "What's in them?"

Harry stepped closer again, his gaze locking onto Louis'. "If you're so curious, why don't you join me? We could figure it out together."

Louis' breath hitched, his resolve wavering for a fraction of a second. "I'd never join you. I'm nothing like you."

"Not yet," Harry said softly, his grin widening. "But you could be. You're already closer than you think."

Louis shook his head, stepping back. "I'll stop you."

Harry chuckled, pulling back, his laughter echoing through the warehouse. "The clock's ticking," he stepped away, falling into the shadows.

And just like that, he was gone.

Louis stood there for a moment, his chest heaving as he tried to calm his racing heart. His eyes fell back on the crate and the symbol of the two fish. Bait. Whatever Harry was planning, it was all connected to the harbour.

Chapter Text

12: Memories of a Masochist

-----

The air at Gotham Harbour was thick with the briny smell of saltwater and the faint metallic tang of rust. Moonlight spilt over the slick, uneven pavement, casting long shadows across the crates stacked like precarious towers. Somewhere in the distance, the water slapped against the docks, a sound muffled by the oppressive quiet of the night.

Louis pulled his hood lower against the drizzle as he stepped out of the unmarked car, his boots crunching over the grit-strewn ground. Behind him, Liam, ever the commanding presence, strode toward the cluster of crates Louis had marked earlier.

"You sure this is it?" Liam asked, his voice clipped as he surveyed the desolate expanse of the docks.

Louis nodded, his jaw tight. "It's the only lead we've got. Those markings—they match the ones we found in Sullivan's files."

He led Liam toward the crates, his heart beating a little faster as they approached the exact spot where he'd stood the night before. He could still feel the echo of Harry's voice in his ears, the weight of his presence.

Liam knelt by the first crate, running his gloved hand over the weathered wood. His sharp eyes narrowed as he examined the faint stencils on the side: a symbol of two fish, entwined, their bodies forming a circle.

"This is Gotham Harbor Logistics," Liam muttered, tapping the emblem. "Legitimate company. At least on paper. But we both know Sullivan's been moving more than shipping containers."

Louis swallowed hard, the memory of Harry's words creeping into his thoughts. It's not about Sullivan.

"I found these same markings at the warehouse," Louis said, careful to keep his tone even. "On the crates that were... empty. I thought they were a dead end, but now..." He trailed off, glancing at Liam.

Liam turned to him, his expression unreadable. "You think they're connected?"

Louis nodded, his fingers flexing at his sides. "They have to be. The routes mapped out in Sullivan's files? All of them lead here. To the harbour."

Liam straightened, his cape rustling as he took a step back to scan the area. "Then we're looking for something big. Weapons, maybe. Smuggling routes. If it's Joker..." He trailed off, his jaw tightening.

Louis didn't respond, instead focusing on the faint sounds of the harbour. A distant clang echoed through the air, sharp and out of place.

"Did you hear that?" Louis asked, his hand instinctively going to the batarang at his belt.

Liam's posture stiffened, his eyes darting toward the source of the sound. "Stay close," he said, his voice low.

The two moved cautiously toward the noise, their boots silent against the slick pavement. As they rounded the corner of a shipping container, Louis froze.

Standing in the dim light of a flickering streetlamp was a man dressed in garish colours—a red jacket with sequined lapels, black leather pants, and a half-mask that glittered like shattered glass.

Harley.

Louis' breath caught as the man turned to face them, a wide, painted grin spreading across his face.

"Well, well," Harley drawled, his voice lilting with amusement. "If it isn't Gotham's favourite birdies."

"What are you doing here?" Liam demanded, his voice sharp and commanding.

Liam stepped forward, his presence radiating authority. "You're out of your depth, Quinn."

Harley tilted his head, his grin widening. "Aw, Batsy, don't be like that. I'm just here to deliver a message." His gaze shifted to Louis, and something playful sparked in his eyes. "No blood, no bombs, no mess—well, not yet, anyway.

Louis stepped around Liam, his gaze narrowing. "What's the message?"

"Aw, Mr B's little helper," Harley cooed, tilting his head as his gaze flicked between Liam and Louis. Louis scowled at him and Harley raised an eyebrow. "Oh, you've grown some claws, haven't you, Robin?" he chuckled, sauntering closer. "But let's keep things professional, shall we?"

"The message, Harley," Liam said firmly.

Harley didn't answer right away. Instead, he sauntered toward them, spinning a knife lazily in his hand. When he was close enough to be dangerous, he stopped, leaning forward just slightly to meet Louis' gaze.

"Tell me, Robin," Harley said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You ever feel like you're being watched?"

Louis didn't flinch, though his hands curled into fists at his sides. "What do you want?" he asked evenly.

Harley chuckled, straightening as he twirled the knife once more before slipping it into his belt. "Not much. Just to keep you on your toes," he said lightly. "Oh, and this," he pulled a folded piece of paper, holding it up between two fingers. "Straight from the boss," he said, his voice sing-song. "Told me to give it to you personally."

Liam stepped forward. "What-"

Harley stepped away from him. "Sorry, B-man, but I'm not here for you," he turned to Robin again.

Louis blinked and reached out to grab the note, but Harley snatched it back, his grin turning wicked. "Ah-ah," he said. "Not so fast. There's one more thing."

"What are you playing at?" Liam growled, stepping closer.

Harley ignored him, his focus entirely on Louis. "Bossman wanted me to deliver this too."

Before Louis could react, Harley leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek, the faint scent of leather and candy clinging to him. Louis froze, his breath hitching as Harley pulled back with a smirk.

"Courtesy of Mr J," Harley purred, brushing a strand of blue-tipped hair from his face. "He's thinking of you, birdie."

Louis wiped his cheek with the back of his glove, his jaw tightening.

"You son of a—" Liam lunged forward, but Harley twirled out of his reach, laughter echoing around the docks.

"Now, now, no need to get violent," Harley said, wagging a finger. "I'm just doing my job."

Louis' hand shot out, grabbing Harley's arm before he could retreat completely. "What's he planning?"

Harley's grin didn't waver. "Wouldn't you like to know?" he pressed the note to Louis' lips, pushing it into his mouth. Louis fumbled, caught off guard and letting his grip on Harley slip. 

In the blink of an eye, Harley twisted free, his movements fluid and practised. He gave a little salute before disappearing into the maze of shipping containers, his laughter echoing through the harbour like a taunt.

Louis pulled the note from his mouth as Liam turned to him, eyes sharp with suspicion. "What was that about?"

Louis hesitated, his mind racing. "Joker's playing games. Same as always," he opened up the note.

"What's it say?" Liam asked immediately.

Louis frowned as he read it. "I have no idea what this means."

The thing about fish and bats? They both belong to me.

Liam glanced over his shoulder to read the note before turning to watch Louis. He studied him for a long moment before nodding, though his expression remained grim. "We need to get back to the cave. If Joker's involved, this is bigger than Sullivan."

Louis nodded, but as they made their way back toward the car, he couldn't shake the lingering sensation of Harley's words—or the kiss that burned against his cheek like a brand.

***

The sterile, dimly lit room hummed with tension. Louis stood at the back, watching intently as Liam sat across from the handcuffed man, his face cold and calculating. The man—scruffy, bruised, and clearly on edge—shifted in his chair, his eyes darting between Liam and Louis, clearly aware of the stakes.

They'd caught Warren in the warehouse, packing away the empty crates that they'd raised a few days prior. He was immediately arrested and brought into questioning.

Liam leaned in, his voice low, yet commanding. "We know you've been working with the Joker. The shipments. The harbour. You've been moving something. Weapons, supplies, money. Now talk."

The man chuckled, a dry, forced sound. "You think you can stop him?" He scoffed. "You think you can stop him with this?" he gestured vaguely to the room. "What, by throwing me in a cell?"

Liam's expression didn't change. His hand tightened slightly on the edge of the table. "This isn't a negotiation. Where are the shipments going?"

The man leaned back as if finding some twisted comfort in the situation. His eyes flickered to Louis. "You're not asking the right questions," he said cryptically, his voice almost lazy. "You think the Joker's interested in stuff ? Nah. It's never been about that."

Liam's patience was thinning, and Louis stepped in. "Then what's it about?" his voice was calm, deceptively so. He wasn't showing his frustration, not yet. He had learned that much from the Joker—patience. But beneath the calm, his pulse quickened. He needed answers.

The man looked at Louis for a moment, his lips curling into a smirk. "He wants you ," he said simply. His words hung in the air like a weighted threat.

Louis stiffened but didn't respond. Liam's eyes narrowed, but he kept his composure. "He can't just want him," Liam muttered as if trying to convince himself. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Oh, it does," the man said, his tone casual. "It's the perfect game, you see. Gotham? It's always been on fire." His eyes flicked toward Louis. "But you... you're different. You think you're some sort of hero, don't you?" he chuckled softly. "That's why he's drawn to you. You're the perfect challenge."

Louis' jaw tightened, but he didn't let the comments affect him. "Where is he now?" he asked, forcing the words out. "What's his next move?"

The man remained silent for a long beat, the tension growing thicker by the second. He licked his lips before replying, his voice quieter. "He doesn't need to make a move. He's already won."

Louis leaned forward slightly. "What do you mean?"

The man stayed silent. Liam slammed a hand onto the table. "You'd better answer him," he frowled.

"You'll find out," Warren replied cryptically. "And when you do, you'll see. You'll realise it was always about you," he glanced briefly at Liam, then back to Louis. "It's always been about you."

Louis' hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms. He didn't flinch, but his mind raced. What did the Joker want with him? Why was he so important?

Liam straightened up abruptly, frustration clear in his movements. He shot a look at Louis, silently asking if he wanted to continue. Louis gave the smallest of nods, signalling him to keep going.

"Tell us where the shipments are, and maybe we'll consider going easy on you," Liam pressed, his voice low and threatening.

The man leaned back again, his grin spreading wider. "Don't bother. There's no easy way out for you. You can't stop him," he said, his voice dripping with confidence. "And you sure as hell can't stop what's coming."

Liam slammed his fist down on the table again, rattling the contents. "Stop dodging the questions," he barked. "Where's he hiding?"

But the man's grin only grew. "I don't know," he answered. "All I know is he wants you ."

Louis couldn't keep quiet any longer. His voice was calm, yet the words cut through the room like a blade. "What does he want from me?" he asked, his gaze unwavering.

The man leaned forward, his expression shifting for the first time. His eyes gleamed with something darker, something more knowing. "You're the key."

Liam's frustration reached a boiling point. He stepped toward the man, grabbing him by the collar and lifting him slightly out of his seat. "What the hell does that mean?!" he demanded.

The man didn't flinch, not even an ounce of fear showing on his face. "It means you can't stop what's happening. And you can't stop Robin," he turned to look at Louis. "He already knows how to break you. He knows your weakness."

Louis' gaze darkened, but his voice remained steady. "You're wasting your breath. We're not done here until you tell us what we need to know."

The man leaned back again, his eyes shifting between them. He licked his lips slowly. "I've told you everything I'm going to. And once the Joker's plans unfold? You'll have no choice but to see it. He's going to bring you to him, whether you like it or not."

Louis and Liam exchanged a glance, the weight of the man's words sinking in. They weren't getting anything else out of him.

Without another word, Liam grabbed the man by the arm, pulling him roughly to his feet. "Get him out of here," he barked at the officers standing by the door.

Louis lingered for a moment, watching the man being dragged out, his thoughts racing. "Why does he want me?" he whispered under his breath.

Liam glanced over at him. "We'll figure it out. Let's get back to the plan."

Louis nodded, but his mind was elsewhere. The Joker's obsession with him—it didn't make sense. And the more he thought about it, the more unsettling it became. He wasn't just an ally in this game. He was something far more important to the Joker, something deeper, darker. But why?

He didn't have the answer yet, but he was going to find out. One way or another, he was going to understand exactly why Harry wanted him so badly.

***

The rain poured steadily, Gotham's streets slick and shimmering under the dim glow of sporadic streetlights. Louis moved with purpose, his cape trailing behind him as he navigated the maze of alleys. He was tracking a lead on stolen shipments from the docks, the fragments of information pieced together over long nights of work with Liam.

His earpiece crackled to life. "Robin, what's your status?" Liam's voice was clipped, efficient.

"Scoping the area near Burnside," Louis murmured, his eyes scanning every shadow. "Nothing yet."

"Stay sharp," Liam instructed. "Call it in if you see anything."

Louis didn't reply, cutting the connection as he caught movement at the edge of his vision—a flash of red and black slipping between the shadows. He hesitated for half a second before following, his boots splashing softly against the wet pavement.

The figure darted through the alleys with uncanny speed, weaving between dumpsters and fire escapes. Louis pressed on, his focus narrowing as he caught glimpses of red and white: streaks of red hair and pale skin, a flash of black leather. The figure slowed near the mouth of a dead-end alley, pausing under a flickering streetlamp.

Louis stopped several paces away, hidden in the shadows as he observed. The figure turned, and his face became clear—a man with striking dark hair pulled back from his painted face. Harley.

"Well, well," he drawled, his voice smooth and lilting as he rested a hand on his hip. "If it isn't little birdie."

Louis stepped out of the shadows, his staff gripped tightly in one hand. "What are you doing here, Harley?"

Harley laughed, the sound sharp and melodious. "Oh, don't look so serious. I'm here to deliver a message."

"I'm not interested," Louis said flatly.

"Oh, you will be," Harley replied, stepping closer. His leather jacket gleamed in the rain, the red diamonds on his sleeves catching the light. "Mister J sends his regards."

Louis stiffened, his grip tightening. "Where is he?"

"Busy," Harley said with a smirk, spinning a small card between his gloved fingers. "Big plans, y'know. But he didn't forget about you."

Harley flicked the card toward Louis. He caught it mid-air, flipping it over. A simple message was scrawled in red ink: What happens to fish that swim too close to the surface, sweetheart? The nets tighten, the water drains, and the tide takes what it's owed."

Louis' stomach churned, his mind racing. "What does it mean?"

Harley chuckled, stepping closer until they were nearly toe-to-toe. "That's for you to figure out, birdie." His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "But if I were you, I'd keep an eye on the clock."

"Why are you telling me this?" Louis demanded, his voice edged with suspicion.

"Because the boss said so," Harley replied sweetly, his grin widening. "And because it's fun watching you squirm."

Louis glared, taking a step back. "Tell him I'm not playing his games."

Harley tilted his head, his painted grin never faltering. "Oh, sweetheart. You're already playing. You just don't know the rules yet."

Before Louis could respond, Harley closed the distance between them, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. Louis froze, his heart skipping as Harley pulled back, his grin softening into something almost affectionate.

"From Mister J," Harley purred, stepping back into the shadows. "Don't forget, birdie. Tick-tock."

With that, Harley disappeared, leaving Louis standing alone in the rain. He touched his cheek briefly, his gloves brushing against the faint smear of red paint left behind. The card in his hand felt heavier now, the words etched into his mind.

Louis activated his comms. "Batman."

"Report," Liam replied immediately.

"Harley was here," Louis said, his voice steady despite the unease twisting in his gut. "He had a message from Joker."

"What kind of message?"

Louis hesitated, his eyes drifting to the card. The tide takes what it's owed. "Another riddle. I'm working on it," he said finally. "But we need to move fast."

Liam cursed on the other end. "Let's regroup, figure this out."

Chapter Text

13: Confessions of a Conman

-----

Gotham Harbor was eerily quiet, the usual hum of dockworkers replaced by the sound of waves lapping against the rusted hulls of abandoned ships. Louis and Liam moved cautiously through the shadows, their boots silent against the concrete.

Louis and Liam moved cautiously through the shadows, their steps deliberate and quiet. They were tracking the Joker's movements, or rather, tracking his absence.

"He hasn't been seen in days," Liam muttered, his voice low through the comms. "But his crew is still moving. Something's coming."

Louis nodded, his sharp blue eyes scanning the dim-lit docks ahead. "Harley's been sending messages. One this morning—cryptic as usual."

Liam shot a glance over his shoulder. "What did it say?"

Louis exhaled, his eyes flicking back to the crates. "' A bat should know better than to swim with sharks. But then, bats and fishes both belong to me.'" he recited with a frown. "It was signed with a lipstick print."

Liam's jaw tightened. "Harley... he's been leaving you these?"

Louis wiped at his cheek instinctively, still feeling the echo of her touch from the night before. "Yeah, he's been busy."

"Not a bad lead," Liam replied, though his voice held a trace of frustration. "What are sharks if not 'bigger fish'?" he quoted Sullivan's words from a few days prior. "But I don't like this. The harbour's been dead for weeks. No shipments, and no sign of activity, until tonight. We need to know what's in those containers."

The two of them continued moving through the harbour, their eyes constantly scanning the surroundings. As they reached the edge of the dock, Liam raised a hand.

The two of them crept forward, weaving through the maze of metal and shadows. As they reached the edge of the dock, Liam raised a hand to stop Louis. "You stay here," he ordered.

"I'm not—"

"Stay," Liam said firmly. "If things go sideways, you're my backup."

Louis bristled but nodded, slipping into the cover of a nearby stack of crates. He watched as Liam moved toward the target—a group of men unloading a shipment from an unmarked truck.

Then, from the shadows behind him, a low, familiar voice cut through the silence.

"Miss me, sweetheart?"

Louis froze, his heart racing as he turned to see the Joker lounging against the corner of a shipping container, his green eyes alight with mischief.

"Where've you been?" Louis demanded, his voice sharper than he intended.

Harry smirked, pushing off the container and stepping closer. "Business, darling," he said smoothly. "You know how it is. But I'm touched you noticed my absence," he tilted his head, studying Louis intently. "Did you miss me?"

Louis didn't answer, his jaw tightening.

Harry chuckled. "I asked you a question, Robin," he said, his tone dropping.

Louis crossed his arms. "We caught one of your men, Warren," he said coldly. "He told us—"

Harry held up a finger, cutting him off. "Let me guess. Something cryptic? Something about me wanting you?" he leaned closer, his voice a low purr. "He's not wrong."

Louis held his ground, even as his pulse quickened. "What does that mean?"

"It means," Harry said, his voice soft but sharp, "that you're very important to me."

"Why?" Louis demanded.

Harry's smile widened, sharp and dangerous. "Because you're fun , darling. You're fire and chaos wrapped up in a neat little package," he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "And because you're not as breakable as I first thought. I'll give you that."

"Leave  me the hell alone!" Louis shot back, his voice rising. "Whatever game you're playing—leave me out of it."

Harry's expression flickered, something unreadable passing through his eyes before he stepped closer. "You're mad," he observed, almost amused. "It's cute."

"Don't," Louis warned, his fists clenching. "Stop calling me cute. Stop sending your people to mess with me. Stop—"

"Stop what?" Harry interrupted, his grin fading as he closed the distance between them in one swift movement. His tone dropped, low and dangerous. "Stop wanting you?"

Louis flinched slightly at the sudden change in tone, his heart pounding. "I'm not part of your plan," he said, his voice firm despite the fear curling in his stomach.

Harry's lips twitched, not quite a smile. "Aren't you?"

"I'm not scared of you," Louis said, though his voice was quieter now.

Louis's breath hitched as Harry's gloved hand shot out, grabbing his wrist in a firm but not painful grip. "But you're getting awfully bold, aren't you?" Harry mused, tilting his head. "You used to be so sweet, so polite," his green eyes narrowed. 

Louis tried to yank free, but Harry's grip was unyielding. "You don't scare me."

"Then why are you shaking?" Harry asked softly, his voice like a whisper against Louis' ear.

"I'm not," Louis said, though his voice betrayed him.

Harry tilted his head, his gaze piercing. "Say that again."

Louis hesitated, his heart hammering in his chest. "I'm not scared," he said, forcing the words out.

Harry's grin returned, cold and sharp. "Liar." Louis tugged to free his wrist, but The Joker held him tight. "Such fire," he murmured, stepping closer. "I should've known you'd grow bolder. But I do miss the days when you used to tremble when I'd touch you. When you were all wide eyes and stammering apologies. Do you miss it too?"

Louis glared at him, his jaw tight. "I don't miss anything about you."

Harry tsked, his smile widening. "Now that's just rude. I've been busy, you know. Important business to take care of. But I didn't forget about you . I made sure Harley kept you entertained. Did he deliver my messages? My kiss?"

Louis flushed despite himself. "I burned them."

Anger flashed over Harry's face, just for a moment; a fire lighting in his eyes. "Now you're just hurting my feelings, sweetheart," he said. "Do you want to try that again?" his grip tightened.

Louis hissed. "Let go of me."

"You forget who you're dealing with," The Joker told him. "I don't do very well with demands."

Louis scowled at him, tugging his arm to no avail. Harry pushed back, pressing Louis against the wall. "Stop!" 

Harry leaned in closer, his smirk widening. "You used to be so polite," he said softly. "What happened to 'please'?"

Louis swallowed, his voice faltering. "Let me go," he said quietly, his pride burning at the tremor in his tone. 

"Try again, sweetheart."

Louis glared at him, but the tension in Harry's grip sent a chill through him. He swallowed hard. "Please," he said quietly.

Harry's lips twitched into a smirk. "There's a good boy," he released Louis abruptly, patting the boy's cheek tauntingly. "See how much easier things are when you remember your manners?"

Before Louis could respond, Liam's voice crackled through his earpiece. "Louis, status?"

Harry grinned, hearing the faint voice. "Ah, the cavalry," he said mockingly. "Should've known the B-man wouldn't let you play alone for long."

Louis stepped back, his hand going to his comm. "I'm fine," he said quickly, his eyes locked on Harry.

But Harry wasn't done. "Tell me, darling," he said, his voice was soft but cutting. "When you're running around after him, cleaning up his messes, does he ever stop to thank you? Or are you just another shadow to him?"

Louis' fists clenched, his anger boiling over. "Stop wanting me!" he snapped.

Harry's laughter echoed through the dock. "Stop wanting you?" he repeated, his voice rich with amusement. "Oh, Robin. That's not how this works."

For a moment, Louis trembled, his breath shaky as Harry studied him with a cruel kind of amusement.

"Why me?" Louis asked suddenly, the question bursting out before he could stop it. "What do you want from me? Why go to all this trouble?"

Harry's expression softened—almost. "Why you?" he repeated, his voice smooth and deliberate. "Because you're the most fun I've had in years, darling. You're pure, you're righteous, and breaking you? Well, that would be my masterpiece ."

Before Louis could respond, a sharp voice cut through the tension.

"Joker."

Both men turned to see Liam standing a few yards away, his dark cape billowing in the wind. His sharp brown eyes locked onto Harry, his stance tense and ready.

"Well, well," Harry said, his grin returning. "Look who finally showed up. Afraid I might keep your little bird?"

"Step away," Liam ordered, his voice cold.

Harry didn't move, his grin widening. "Come on, Bats. You can't honestly think he belongs to you , do you?"

Without another word, Liam flung a batarang, its sharp edges whistling through the air. It caught Harry's arm, slicing through his shirt and grazing his skin. A steady trickle of blood dripped down his bicep.

Harry flinched, but his grin only widened. "You think that's enough to stop me?" he taunted. "A little blood?" he pressed his fingers to the wound and licked the blood.

"I said, step away," Liam repeated, his voice like steel.

Batman reached for another batarang, but Harry was quick to grab Louis and hold the boy in front of him. "Quite the predicament," he teased.

"Get off of me," Louis demanded, trying to tug from Harry's grasp, but The Joker's grip was iron.

Liam stepped forward, ready for a fight. "You're done, Joker. This ends now."

But Harry wasn't done. He smiled wider, still holding Louis firmly. "It ends when I say it does, Batboy," he taunted, his eyes flicking between them. "But for now, let's call it a draw. Shall we?" his knuckles grazed Louis' cheek. "I'll give him back to you. For now. But you know, Robin?" his gaze dropped to Louis "You really should stop running from me."

"Joker!" Liam's voice was demanding.

Harry sighed theatrically, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Fine, fine. Always such a killjoy," he took a step back. "He's yours for now, call it a loan ," his green eyes flicking to Louis one last time. "We'll pick this up later, sweetheart."

And with that, he disappeared into the shadows, his laughter echoing in his wake.

Liam turned to Louis, his expression hard. "What the hell was that?"

Louis avoided his gaze, brushing past him. "Nothing, I'm fine."

"He had you cornered. What did he say?" Liam grabbed him, not letting Louis slip away.

"I said I'm fine!" Louis snapped, yanking his arm free. "He's just trying to mess with us."

"It's more than that," Liam insisted. "You're hiding something."

Louis shook his head quickly. "I'm not hiding anything. He's just..." He trailed off, shaking his head.

"Just what?" Liam pressed, his frustration mounting. "He's targeting you. Why?"

Louis looked at him, his blue eyes conflicted. "I don't know," he said finally. "Really, I don't."

Liam's nose twitched in frustration. "Well, what did he say?"

Louis shrugged helplessly. "Something about breaking me," he muttered. "But I can handle it."

Liam stepped back, his expression unreadable. "You can't keep doing this," he said quietly.

"Doing what?" Louis' eyes darted to him.

"Letting him get into your head," Liam replied. "He's playing you, Louis. That's all this is."

"I can handle it," Louis repeated firmly.

Liam's jaw tightened. "You shouldn't have to handle it alone. We're supposed to be a team."

"I know," Louis said quietly. "But he's not going to stop. Not until—" He cut himself off, his hands balling into fists.

"Not until what?" Liam demanded.

Louis waved his arms in frustration. "Until he has me!" he snapped. "Whatever that means. I don't know. You heard Warren in the interrogation and The Joker said the same thing just now-" he cut himself off, shaking his head. "I don't know why or what it means. He just wants me, and he's not gonna stop until-"

"He's never going to have you," the ferociousness of Liam's voice led Louis to believe it was true. "I'll kill him before he gets the chance."

Louis' anger turned to helplessness. "I just don't understand."

"You don't have to understand him, Louis, he's sick," Liam spat. "You need to stay away from him."

Louis swallowed. "What if I..." he trailed off, turning away from Liam.

Liam brushed his shoulder, trying to catch Louis' eyes. "What?" he asked. "What if you what?"

Louis cast his eyes down for a moment before looking back at Liam. "What if I hear him out?" he spoke so quietly that Liam hardly caught his words.

"What?" Liam's voice was like an explosion. "Are you crazy?" he snapped. "I don't know what he said to get into your head but-"

"I don't know what else to do!" Louis shot back, just as loudly. "He will stop at nothing to get what he wants."

"What he wants is you !" Liam exclaimed. "That's too big of a price."

Louis shook his head. "We don't know what he wants with me. I could find out."

Liam scoffed. "Well, it sure as hell won't be a tea party."

"Liam-"

"No," Liam cut in firmly. "That's the end of whatever crazy suggestion you were about to put forward," he said. "We're not humouring what he has to say."

"Liam-"

"I'm not hearing it, Louis," Batman interrupted. "End of."

Louis' lips pressed into a firm line. He stared Liam down for a moment before huffing. "Fine."

Louis strode off; Liam rolled his eyes and followed. "The men are all unconscious. Let's finish this."

Louis gave him a swift nod. He wanted nothing more than to be finished with this for good.

Chapter Text

14: Revelations of a Rogue

-----

The night air over Gotham felt heavier than usual, the storm clouds threatening rain as Liam and Louis darted across the rooftops. The glow of the city below was dim, muted by the haze of smog and the distant hum of police sirens.

Louis vaulted over a gap between buildings, landing silently beside Liam, whose cape snapped in the breeze.

"Two more down," Louis panted, motioning toward the alley below. Two would-be burglars were zip-tied and unconscious, their tools of choice—crowbars and a worn-out drill—scattered beside them.

"Good," Liam replied curtly, his voice steady despite the strain of the chase. He crouched beside him, scanning the streets below. "There's still one unaccounted for. He won't get far."

Louis adjusted his hood, squinting into the dim light. "What were they even after? The place was a dump."

"Doesn't matter," Liam said, rising to his full height. "Petty crimes like this might seem small, but they keep us distracted. Whoever's coordinating these low-level hits is using them to spread us thin."

As he spoke, the wail of sirens grew louder in the distance. 

Liam pulled a small communicator from his belt, speaking into it. "Two suspects at Fifth and Monarch. Leave them for GCPD," Liam tucked the device away and motioned for Louis to follow. "They'll pick them up soon."

Louis frowned but didn't argue. Before he could press further, their comms crackled to life.

"Batman, Robin," came the clipped voice of Detective Grace Mallory. "We've got a situation at Kavanagh Technologies. Team's already on-site. We need you there."

Liam straightened immediately. "We're on our way," he said. Turning to Louis, his expression darkened. "Let's move."

The two made their way from the rooftop, heading to their parked car. Liam threw Louis the keys, which the younger boy caught easily. Louis looked up at Liam with a confused frown.

"What?" Batman questioned. "You used to beg me to drive this thing."

Louis huffed out a laugh, climbing into the driver's seat. "Yeah, and you used to tell me to keep dreaming."

Liam snorted. "You were a kid back then," he climbed into the passenger seat with a grin. "Consider it your lucky day."

Louis smiled right back, starting up the car. The Batmobile roared to life and was soon slicing through the wet streets of Gotham with ease.

"Kavanagh Technologies?" Louis asked, cutting through a side street.

"High-profile target," Liam replied. "If Joker's involved, it's more than just a robbery."

"Always is," Louis muttered under his breath, hands firmly gripping the wheel.

When they arrived at Kavanagh, the scene was alive with officers. The building's sleek glass facade reflected the dim glow of the streetlights.

Detective Grace Mallory stood near the entrance, her soaked trench coat clinging to her frame as she barked orders to a group of officers. She turned as Liam and Louis approached, her sharp gaze scanning them.

"Detective," Liam greeted with a curt nod.

"Took you long enough," Mallory said, though her tone lacked heat. She motioned toward the building behind her. "It's bad. Same M.O. as Kingsley Financial last week. Silent alarm tripped, but by the time anyone got here, it was too late."

"Casualties?" Liam asked.

"None, thankfully," Mallory replied. "Whoever did this knew what they were doing. Surgical precision—they went straight for the servers. Didn't even bother with the cash vaults."

The three of them entered the building together, Louis and Liam eyeing each detail carefully. The lobby was pristine, untouched by whatever chaos had unfolded deeper inside. But as they ascended the stairs to the upper levels, the signs became impossible to ignore.

Shattered glass crunched underfoot. Papers lay strewn across the floor, some of them charred at the edges. The low whirring of server racks had gone silent, and a faint smell of smoke lingered in the air.

"Someone wanted to make a statement," Louis muttered, nudging a broken monitor with his boot.

"Joker never does anything quietly," Liam replied. He stopped abruptly at a doorway where the words ' Time's ticking, Bats ' were scrawled in bright pink spray paint.

Louis stared at the message, his jaw tightening. "Think it's him?"

Liam didn't answer immediately, his sharp eyes scanning the corridor. "Let's find out."

"Detective!" an officer called. Mallory sighed, turning to them.

"Let me know if you boys find anything," she said before heading towards the group of officers in need of attention.

The server room was the worst hit. Wires hung in tangled knots from the ceiling and shattered pieces of equipment lay scattered like broken bones.

"They weren't just trashing the place," Louis observed, kneeling to sift through the debris. "They were specific."

Liam moved towards the central console, his gloved fingers brushing against the exposed circuitry. "Looks like they ripped the main drives cleanout. Whatever data was here, they wanted it badly enough to leave everything else untouched."

Louis straightened, holding up a torn folder he'd found among the wreckage. He flipped through the pages, his brows furrowing. "These are schematics."

"For what?" Liam asked, stepping closer.

"City infrastructure," Louis said grimly, holding up a page marked with detailed power grid layouts. "Sewer systems, electrical lines, even some traffic control networks."

Liam's jaw tightened. "This isn't a robbery. This is preparation."

"For what?" Louis asked, though the knot in his stomach told him they wouldn't like the answer.

Liam didn't reply, instead crouching beside a small, deliberate pile of papers. Atop them rested a single playing card: a joker.

Louis picked it up gingerly, his breath hitching. Scrawled across the card in red ink were the words:

"The tide is rising, darling. Don't get swept away."

Liam's nose twitched and he looked away from the card, clearly infuriated. "So it is him."

Louis swallowed and nodded. "Or Harley," he countered.

Liam hummed softly. "What the hell does he want with the city's infrastructure?"

Louis shook his head, huffing out a sigh and shrugging helplessly. He tucked the card into his pocket.

Mallory walked back over, her voice cut through their thoughts. "We've got a similar report from Braddock Electronics across town. Same M.O.—minimal destruction, specific targets." She handed Liam a tablet with images of the other crime scene.

As Liam examined the device, Louis peered over his shoulder. Liam noticed and lowered the tablet so that Louis could get a better look.

"Look familiar?" Liam muttered, pointing to the pink graffiti on the walls. No words this time, just a smiley face and some hearts.

Louis squinted at something on the screen.  His sharp eyes caught something out of place amid the chaos—a glint of white and red against the dull rubble. "Wait," he stopped Liam before he turned to the next image. "Just there," he pointed to the side of one of the computers.

Liam double-tapped, zooming into the image. In place of the company access card. there was a playing card, a king, stuck into the side of the computer.

Liam let out a frustrated sigh, handing the tablet to Louis. "Good spot," he muttered.

Louis tilted his head, trying to get a glimpse of any writing on the card. "Can you get a close-up of this sent over?" he looked up to ask Mallory, handing her the tablet back.

She nodded immediately. "I'll get my team to send it over to you," she agreed. "What are you thinking?"

"Joker's work," Liam answered. "He's after the city's infrastructure," he explained. "We just need to figure out why."

Mallory typed quickly on the screen. "Whatever it is, we need to figure it out fast," she told them. "Two hits in one night? That's brave, even for him."

Louis and Liam shared a look.

"Have all the pictures sent over to us," Liam instructed. "Every bit of information you have," he listed. "Speak to the boss. we need to know exactly what information was stolen."

"Roger that," Mallory replied. "I'll have it to you by the end of the day."

Louis' hand slipped into his pocket, his fingers brushing over the edges of the Joker card. His stomach churned at the words etched across it.

"What's the plan?" Louis asked, breaking the silence.

Liam stood, his cape rustling as he turned to face him. "We analyse everything we've got so far—find the pattern. If he's hit two places tonight, there's a reason. We figure out what connects them, make a list of other places that could find the pattern and then we cut him off before he hits it."

Louis nodded, though his jaw clenched. The weight of their failure to predict The Joker's moves was heavy on his shoulders. He followed Liam as they made their way back through the ruined corridors and down to the lobby.

The rain was coming down harder now, streaking the glass doors and pooling on the sidewalk. The Batmobile was parked just beyond the police barricade, its sleek frame gleaming under the streetlights.

As they approached, Liam's communicator buzzed. He answered with a terse "Go ahead."

Mallory's voice crackled through the line. "One more thing. Witnesses reported seeing a van leaving Braddock Electronics just before officers arrived. Black, no plates, but a partial ID on the driver matches one of Joker's known associates."

Liam's expression darkened. "Send the description to our database. I'll follow up."

"Understood," Mallory replied before the line went dead.

Louis slid into the driver's seat without a word, his thoughts spinning as Liam joined him. The engine roared to life, and they peeled away from the scene, the rain-slicked streets blurring under the Batmobile's powerful headlights.

The drive back to the Batcave was silent, save for the low hum of the engine. Louis's grip on the steering wheel was tight, his knuckles white. He could feel Liam's presence beside him, his mentor's thoughts likely as tangled as his own.

Finally, Louis broke the silence. "Do you think this is just about chaos? Or is it something bigger?"

Liam's gaze remained fixed on the road ahead. "With Joker, it's always both. He thrives on chaos, but there's always a purpose underneath it. We just have to find it."

Louis nodded, though unease gnawed at him. The card in his pocket felt like it weighed a ton, the ominous message playing on a loop in his mind. The tide is rising, darling. Don't get swept away.

"And the docks?" Louis asked. "How can some empty crates be connected to the city's power grid?"

Liam ran a hand over his face, looking simply exhausted. "I don't know."

They pulled into the Batcave, the familiar lull of the underground facility a stark contrast to the chaos outside. As they stepped out of the Batmobile, Niall was already waiting for them.

"Boys," he greeted, nodding his head. "I take it the night didn't go as planned."

"Far from it," Liam replied, brushing past him toward the central console. "We're sending over files from Mallory. I need you to pull up every record we have on Kavanagh Technologies and Braddock Electronics. Focus on infrastructure plans."

Niall glanced at Louis, noting Liam's bluntness. Louis just shrugged at him helplessly, following his brother inside. 

"On it" Niall said finally, moving to his workstation.

Louis hesitated in the doorway as the rest of the boys began their research, his fingers fiddling with the card in his pocket. 

Liam turned to him, glancing over his shoulder. "What's on your mind?" he asked, his voice pulling Louis from his thoughts.

Louis handed the card to Liam. "He's not just playing games. He's warning us. Whatever he's planning, he wants us to know we're running out of time."

Liam's jaw tightened, looking over the message again. "Then we don't waste a second," he replied. "Niall, anything?"

"Not yet," Niall replied. "New company, not much since..." he trailed off, eyes squinting at the computer.

Louis walked over to the monitor. "What?"

"Since they got a new CEO two months ago," Niall answered. "Norman Sullivan."

Liam and Louis looked at one another.

"Sullivan," Louis muttered.

Liam's face hardened. "Looks like we need to make another trip down to the prison."

***

Sullivan's lawyer wouldn't allow another interrogation until the following week. Norman Sullivan hadn't been to work, or at home since the break-in at Kavanagh Technologies.

All Louis and Liam could do for the time being was wait until something clicked. Some tracing on the vehicle at the crime scene, some sighting of Norman, some insight on what was stolen on those servers.

Until then, the pair of them threw themselves into their work; fighting low-level crime across the city.

Their current job was becoming a common occurrence. Reports of a group of masked criminals that had been spotted terrorising the streets. Looting local shops and vandalising the city's streets.

Liam and Louis had lost sight of them as they ventured further into the Diamond District. They'd split up, Liam taking the west and Louis taking the east.

Louis entered the empty warehouse after he had caught a glimpse of shadows making their way inside. The building was damp and suffocatingly quiet, the air thick with the metallic scent of rust and faint oil fumes. Crates loomed in precarious towers, casting deep shadows across the cracked concrete floor.

Louis moved with the precision of a predator, his sharp eyes scanning every corner.

"Three of them," he muttered into his comms. "I can see their shadows near the west end."

"Wait for me," Liam replied firmly through the earpiece. "Do not engage."

Louis exhaled quietly, edging closer. "They're moving. If I wait, we lose them."

"Louis—"But Louis switched off the comm before Liam could finish, his focus locking onto the three men rifling through a crate.

The three were spread out, each preoccupied with their tasks. One man, taller and stockier than the others, stood guard. The dim light from a nearby hanging lamp glinted off a crowbar in one of their hands. His eyes darted nervously around the warehouse. Another rifled through the crate's contents, tossing out smaller items with a sneer of frustration. The third leaned against a stack of crates, a lead pipe resting casually across his shoulder.

"Idiots," Louis muttered, stepping silently from the shadows.

He struck hard and fast, his foot slamming into the first man's knee with a sickening crack.

The man went down with a howl, clutching his leg as the others turned in alarm.

"Get him!" one of them shouted, yanking a metal pipe from the crate.

Louis was already moving, his fists a blur as he parried the first swing and delivered a sharp jab to the man's ribs. But the third man came at him from behind, grabbing his arms and locking them behind his back.

Louis twisted sharply, his heel driving into the man's shin and forcing him to release him with a grunt.

From the shadows above, a familiar figure lounged on a metal beam, his green eyes glinting with amusement as he watched. "Three against one?" he drawled, his voice carrying easily across the warehouse. "That hardly seems fair."

Louis didn't falter, even as Harry's voice sent a jolt through him. "Are you just gonna sit and watch?" he shot back, ducking under another swing. "Or are you going to help me?"

Harry chuckled, the sound low and mocking. "Why would I help? You're putting on quite the show, sweetheart."

Louis gritted his teeth, slamming his fist into the chest of the man in front of him. "Somehow, I'm not surprised."

"Don't be so quick to judge," Harry replied smoothly, leaning forward as if to get a better view. "You've got some fight in you tonight. It's very... entertaining."

Louis turned sharply as one of the men swung a knife at him, narrowly dodging the blade. 

"Why are you even here?" Robin snapped.

Harry's laugh echoed through the warehouse. "You're on my side of town, sweetheart."

Louis delivered a solid kick to the man's chest, sending him sprawling, but the effort left him off-balance. The last thug took advantage, shoving Louis against a stack of crates. He grunted, the breath knocked from his lungs as he struggled to push back. The man's fist connected with his ribs, and pain flared white-hot through his side.

From his perch, Harry sighed dramatically. "Tsk, tsk. Sloppy footwork, darling."

"Shut up!" Louis snapped, his voice tight with pain. But the taunt had cost him. The thug slashed out with his knife, the blade slicing cleanly across Louis' side. Blood seeped through his suit as he staggered back.

"Oops," Harry murmured, his smirk widening as he finally moved towards Louis.

The last man took off running, his footsteps echoing through the warehouse as Louis dropped to one knee, clutching his side.

"You're just gonna let him go?" Louis demanded through gritted teeth.

"Why not?" Harry replied, sauntering out of the shadows. "He got a good hit in. I'd say he earned it," he crouched in front of Louis, his gloved hand reaching out to tilt his chin up. "But you, sweetheart? You should've stayed down."

Louis smacked his hand away, his glare sharp despite the pain radiating through his body. "I don't need your help," he went to stand up.

Harry's grin faltered slightly, his green eyes narrowing. "No, you need a lesson."

Louis went to reply but his legs buckled beneath him, his balance giving out completely. Harry caught him easily, one arm looping around his waist to keep him upright.

"Careful," Harry murmured, his voice softer now. "Don't want you falling apart on me."

"Let him go." The command cut through the warehouse like a blade.

Both men turned to see Liam standing a few yards away, his cape billowing as he advanced. His eyes burned with fury as they locked onto Harry.

Harry's smirk returned, though his hold on Louis remained steady. "Ah, Batsy. Always so timely. You just missed all the fun."

"Step away from him," Liam ordered, his voice cold and unyielding. Harry tilted his head, feigning innocence.

"Now why would I do that? He's perfectly fine where he is."

Liam didn't waste time arguing. A batarang flew through the air, its sharp edges slicing past Harry's face and grazing his cheek.

Blood trickled on the fabric of his shirt, dripping steadily onto the floor. Harry hissed softly, glancing at the wound before looking back at Liam.

"Really? Again?" The Joker questioned. "Always so quick to violence," he said, his tone dripping with mock disappointment. "And I'm the villain?"

"Maybe you should learn to keep away from my partner," Liam countered, his hand reaching for another weapon.

Harry's grin widened as he glanced down at Louis, still leaning against him for support. "Wouldn't hurt him, would you?" he said, his voice low and taunting. "Neither would I," he muttered. "Funny how that works, isn't it?"

Louis tried to pull away, but Harry's grip tightened for just a moment, his green eyes flicking between Liam and Louis with something unreadable.

Louis gritted his teeth, managing to straighten slightly. "Get off of me," he hissed, pushing at Harry's chest.

Harry loosened his grip, letting Louis pull away. But as Louis took a step toward Liam, his legs gave out again.

Before Liam could catch him, Harry was already steadying Louis, his hands firm but surprisingly gentle. "Steady, hero," his voice was almost tender. "Are you alright?"

"Get off!" Louis snapped, wrenching himself free and staggering towards Liam.

Liam's expression hardened as he watched the interaction, his hand fell to his utility belt, his voice sharp. "What the hell are you playing at?"

Harry straightened slowly, his smirk reasserting itself as he stepped back from Louis. "Playing at?" he echoed, his tone light. "Oh, Bats, don't tell me you think I'm responsible for this." He gestured to Louis with an exaggerated flourish. "Relax. He got himself hurt."

Liam snapped. "What did you do to him?"

"Me?" Harry placed a hand over his heart, feigning offence. "I told you—I don't want him hurt. That wouldn't do at all," he shot Louis a pointed look. "I told him to stay down, but you know how stubborn he is."

Louis glared at Harry from his place next to Liam, his voice hoarse but sharp. "One of them got away," he muttered to Batman, his frustration clear.

Harry chuckled, stepping back toward the shadows. "Don't be so hard on yourself, sweetheart. Three against one, and you put on quite the show," his green eyes glinted with mischief. "I'm impressed."

Liam advanced a step, his posture coiled with fury. "You're sick."

"And you're boring," Harry shot back, already retreating into the shadows. "But don't worry. I'll be back to check on my little bird," he cast one last glance at Louis, his green eyes gleaming. "We'll pick this up later, sweetheart."

And with that, he disappeared into the shadows, leaving Liam and Louis alone in the dimly lit warehouse.

Louis swayed slightly, catching himself against a crate before Liam moved to steady him. "You alright?" Liam asked, his voice tight with concern.

"I'm fine," Louis muttered, brushing him off.

"What the hell was that?" Liam demanded, his anger barely restrained. "He caught you. He helped you—"

"Hardly," Louis interrupted, his voice sharper than he intended. "He's messing with us."

Liam shook his head, sighing. "Any idea where the last one went?" he asked.

Louis looked down. "No," he muttered. "I'm sorry."

"You should be," Liam shot back. "I told you to wait for me."

Louis kept his eyes fixed on the floor. "Thought I could handle it."

"I'm not mad he got away," Batman told him. "I'm mad that you got yourself hurt," he said, his hand going to Louis' cut. "Let me see."

Louis raised his arm, wincing to show Liam where the knife had slashed at his ribs. It was a shallow wound, but the positioning of it was painful.

Liam sighed. "We'll get that checked," he said. "I'll call back up to take care of these," he gestured to the two men knocked out on the floor.

Louis was quiet now, guilty. He just nodded at Liam's demands.

"Hey," Liam said softly and Louis looked up. "You did good."

Louis offered him a soft smile, nodding despite not believing a word he said.

Chapter Text

15: Voices of a Villain

-----

The monitors flickered as Liam and Louis worked alongside a growing team. The muted glow of the Batcave was no longer silent—Detective Grace Mallory's voice came through the comms, while Niall sat at a terminal nearby, his hands flying across the keyboard as he cross-referenced manifests and routes.

"This is everything we have on shipments moving through Gotham Harbor in the last month," Niall said, pulling up a web of tangled red lines representing routes across the city. "It's a mess, but there's a pattern here. I just need to isolate it."

Liam nodded, his gaze sharp as he scanned the data. "Focus on Sullivan's connections. His shipping network might give us something Joker could exploit."

Louis leaned against the table, the schematics from Kavanagh Technologies spread out before him. His mind was racing, trying to piece together the fragments of information. The docks, the city infrastructure, the cryptic messages—it all felt connected, but the picture was incomplete.

"What if it's not about importing?" he asked suddenly, drawing everyone's attention.

"What do you mean?" Liam asked, his brow furrowing.

Louis tapped the map. "What if he's not bringing something in? What if he's moving something out? Or controlling how things move within the city?"

Niall glanced up from his terminal. "Like controlling the flow of goods, people, information... transportation?"

Liam crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. "If he wanted to control the routes, he'd need access to more than just the harbour. The schematics from Kavanagh—"

"They're maps of the city's arteries," Louis interrupted, his voice quickening. "Sewers, electrical grids, traffic routes—what if he's planning to control everything that moves through Gotham? Not just goods, but people."

The room fell silent as the weight of the possibility settled over them.

Detective Mallory's voice crackled through the comms. "If that's the case, we need to involve the mayor's office and emergency services. A coordinated response is the only way to keep the city from descending into chaos."

"Not yet," Liam said firmly. "We don't know enough. If we tip him off that we're onto him, he'll accelerate whatever he's planning."

Louis' jaw tightened. "Then we need to get ahead of him. We've been reacting too much. If he's playing us, we need to turn the tables."

Niall leaned back, his eyes narrowing at the screen. "The manifests," he said suddenly. "They don't make sense. Look at this—routes overlap, crates are shipped to dead zones, and some shipments have been rerouted to the same location multiple times."

"Where?" Liam asked, stepping closer.

Niall pulled up a flashing red point on the map. "Here. Near Harlow Avenue. An old distribution centre that's been 'out of use' for years. It's marked as inactive, but there's too much activity here for that to be true."

Louis straightened. "It's worth checking out."

Liam nodded. "Niall and I will take a team to investigate."

Louis hesitated, his gaze flicking between the map and the schematics. "I'll stay here. There's more to piece together, and I'll monitor your comms."

Liam clapped him on the shoulder. "Good. Keep digging. If we don't find anything at Harlow, you might uncover something here."

As Liam and Niall prepared to leave, Louis lingered by the map, his mind swirling with questions. Once the Batmobile roared out of the cave, taking Liam and Niall with it, the silence that followed was deafening.

Louis waited only a few minutes before slipping on his jacket.

He wasn't staying behind.

***

Louis pushed through the heavy metal door of the abandoned factory, his boots crunching over broken glass and debris. The air inside was as heavy as always; damp and faintly smelling of oil.

From somewhere deeper within, Harry's voice floated to him, low and mocking. "Took you long enough, sweetheart. I was starting to think you'd gotten lost."

Louis didn't answer, his body tensing as he moved toward the sound. The faint scrape of movement gave away Harry's position just before Louis rounded the corner. Without hesitation, Louis surged forward, slamming Harry against the cold, crumbling wall.

Harry let out a sharp laugh, his grin unshaken despite the force. "Well, hello to you too," he drawled, his green eyes gleaming with amusement.

Louis held him firm, his forearm pressed against Harry's throat. "Shut up," he hissed, his voice low and dangerous.

Harry tilted his head as much as Louis' hold would allow, his smirk unfaltering. "You're getting better at this," he said, his voice almost approving.

"I don't need your approval," Louis snapped, pressing harder against Harry's throat.

Harry chuckled softly, the sound reverberating in the space. "No? Then why are you here?"

Louis' jaw clenched, his breath coming faster. He didn't answer, his grip tightening.

Harry's eyes darkened, his smirk fading into something sharper, more dangerous. "Careful, sweetheart. If you're not here to play, you might not like what happens next."

Louis didn't flinch, his arm steady despite the threat. "What's the lesson this time?" he bit out. "More taunts? More games?"

Harry's lips curled into a slow grin, his voice dropping into a purr. "Lesson one: don't leave openings."

Before Louis could react, Harry's hand shot up, grabbing his wrist and twisting sharply. Louis hissed in pain as his grip faltered, and Harry spun them around, reversing their positions. Now it was Louis pressed against the wall, Harry's hand pinning his arm above his head.

"See?" Harry said, his voice light but with an edge. "Sloppy."

Louis glared at him, his free hand snapping up in a sharp jab toward Harry's side. But Harry anticipated the move, stepping back just enough to avoid the hit while keeping Louis trapped.

"Still too predictable," Harry mused, his green eyes gleaming. "You'll never beat me like that."

Louis winced slightly and Harry raised an eyebrow.

His gaze flicked to the faint stiffness in Louis' movements. "You're still hurt."

"Like you care," Louis muttered.

Harry's smirk softened into something almost bemused. "Oh, I care, sweetheart. If you're not at your best, how are you supposed to be any fun?" he loosened his grip.

Louis twisted sharply to break free. He succeeded, spinning to face Harry with his fists raised.

"Suit yourself," Harry drawled. "But don't come crying to me if you can't keep up."

Before Louis could retort, Harry lunged. His fist shot out, quick as a whip, aiming for Louis' side. Louis dodged on instinct, his body twisting just in time to avoid the blow. The motion sent a sharp twinge through his ribs, but he gritted his teeth and ignored it.

"You're slow," Harry teased, circling him.

Louis swung at him, his fist slicing through empty air as Harry sidestepped.

"Is that all you've got?" Harry taunted.

Louis feinting left before aiming a sharp jab at Harry's ribs. This time, he connected. Harry let out a low grunt, staggering back a step before straightening, a grin splitting his face.

"There's my boy," Harry murmured, his green eyes gleaming with something wild and delighted.

"Don't call me that," Louis snapped, his breath coming faster now.

Harry's grin widened. "Why not? It suits you."

Louis lunged, his fist swinging toward Harry's face. But Harry caught his wrist mid-swing, twisting it behind Louis' back with practised ease. He spun Louis around, pinning his arm as he leaned in close, his breath warm against Louis' ear.

"You're angry," Harry whispered, his tone low and teasing as Louis was pressed flush against him. "Good. Use it."

"Let me go," Louis huffed, struggling against Harry's grip.

Harry didn't release him. Instead, he leaned in further, his voice dropping into a taunting purr. "What are you holding back for, hmm? Are you scared you'll hurt me?"

Louis growled, twisting sharply and driving his elbow into Harry's ribs. The motion broke Harry's hold, and Louis spun to face him, his chest heaving.

"Don't flatter yourself," Louis snapped.

Harry stumbled back with a laugh, rubbing his side where Louis' blow had landed. "Now that's the fire I'm talking about."

Louis didn't wait for him to recover. He shot forward again, throwing a sharp jab at Harry's jaw. Harry ducked, slipping to the side and grabbing Louis by the collar of his shirt.

"You're thinking too much," Harry said, yanking Louis off balance. "Instincts, sweetheart. Fighting is all about instincts."

"Shut up," Louis snarled, twisting out of Harry's grip and swinging at him again.

This time, his fist connected, a satisfying crack echoing through the space as Harry's head snapped to the side.

Harry straightened slowly, touching a hand to his jaw. When he turned back to Louis, his grin was wider than ever. "Better," he said, his voice low and smooth. "But you're still holding back."

"I'm not—"

"Don't lie to me," Harry interrupted, his tone cutting. "I can see it in every move you make. You're hesitating."

Louis' jaw tightened, his fists trembling at his sides. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Louis struck again again, his movements sharper, more aggressive. Harry deflected the first swing but caught the second, twisting Louis' arm behind his back and pressing him against the wall once more.

"Oh come on," Harry purred. "Are you scared to hit me, sweetheart?"

"I'm not afraid of you," Louis said finally, his voice trembling with frustration.

Harry's grin returned, sharp and wolfish. "No," he agreed. "You're not. And that's what makes you so interesting," Harry murmured against his ear. "Stop trying to fight me like him. I'm not Batman, sweetheart."

Louis stiffened at the name, a flicker of guilt flashing across his face.

"Does he even know you're here?" Harry continued, his tone mocking. "Or is he too busy saving the world while you take lessons from me?"

"Shut up," Louis growled, his voice thick with frustration.

"No?" Harry guessed, his grin widening. "So he's out playing hero, saving the world and you've come here to see me?" he asked. "Sweetheart, I'm flattered."

Louis' stomach churned. "I'm here for your stupid lesson," he snapped. "Which is rubbish by the way

Harry arched an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. "You sure about that? Because it seems like you've learned a thing or two," he mused, tilting his head.

Louis gritted his teeth, struggling half heartedly in Harry's grip.

Harry leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You don't trust him. Not like you trust me."

"That's not true," Louis said, his voice trembling.

"Isn't it?" Harry murmured, his thumb brushing against Louis' wrist where he still held him. "You trust me to tell you the truth. To push you. To make you better. Batman doesn't do that. He keeps you on a leash, makes you follow the rules," he leaned closer, his lips curling into a smirk. "But you don't want rules, do you?"

Louis wriggled from Harry's grip, sending his knee into The Joker's thigh and forcing him to stumble back.

"I'm not like you," he gritted out.

Louis threw two punches which both narrowly missed Harry, the villain dodging with quick success. They circled each other, eyes locked.

Harry chuckled softly. "No, maybe not," he said. "But you're not like him, either."

Harry lunged forward and Louis dodged him, quick and nimble. Robin held his arms up in defence, eyes fixed on the Joker.

Harry grinned at him. "You can't fight like him, sweetheart. And you don't need to. You're better than that."

Louis pounced, his punches came fast and hard, connecting with Harry's ribs and driving him back a step.

Harry let out a low laugh, his eyes gleaming with something wild and delighted. "There it is," he murmured. "Well done, sweetheart."

Louis didn't stop, following up with a sharp jab to Harry's jaw. But Harry caught his wrist mid-swing, holding him there.

"That's enough," Harry said softly.

Louis' chest heaved. "What?" he asked, his glare unwavering. "You said- you said I needed another lesson-"

"And you've learned it," Harry replied, his voice low.

Louis shook his head, confused. "What?"

Harry tilted his head, dropping Louis' hand. "That you don't have to fight like him. You just have to fight like you," he explained. "Quick, nimble, elegant. "

The words hung in the air between them, heavy and charged. Louis blinked at him before looking away. Harry reached into his pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper. He pressed it into Louis' hand.

He looked up. "What's this?"

"A head start," Harry said simply, his smirk returning. "I like it when you're only a couple of steps behind. Call me clingy, but I like you close."

Louis unfolded it quickly, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the contents. It was a list, hand-scrawled in Harry's sharp handwriting, with locations and cryptic notes beside each one. Backup generator A—Dunn Street. Emergency Node B—Hillview Station. There were nearly a dozen entries, each one marked with a time and date.

Louis looked up at him. "These are... emergency power generators?"

Harry smiled, a hint of pride twinkling behind his eyes. "See you soon, sweetheart," he stepped back into the shadows.

Before Louis could respond, Harry was gone, leaving Louis alone in the factory, the paper clutched tightly in his hand.

Chapter Text

16: Blueprints of a Brute

-----

The fluorescent lights buzzed in the dim interrogation room, casting a cold, sterile glow over everything. Sullivan sat across the metal table, his hands resting casually on the surface, eyes focused straight ahead. He looked unbothered, almost indifferent, as if this was just another inconvenience in his long line of troubles.

Louis and Liam stood on either side of the table, their eyes locked on him, trying to extract anything that might explain the mess that had unfolded in Gotham. Sullivan's brother, the CEO of Kavanagh Technologies, had gone missing after The Joker's heist, and they needed answers. But Sullivan had clammed up.

"Your brother," Liam began, his voice low and measured. "He's been missing since a robbery at Kavanagh Technologies. What can you tell us about it?"

Sullivan didn't flinch. He simply sat there, his gaze never wavering, like he was weighing whether to even respond.

Louis couldn't stand the silence. His patience had been worn thin after weeks of chasing dead ends. "Your brother's been gone for days, and you're still not talking?"

"I'm not my brother's keeper," Sullivan said finally, his voice cool, unaffected.

Louis clenched his jaw, frustration simmering beneath the surface. "What's that supposed to mean? You're telling us you have no idea where he is? You're really not gonna help us here?"

Sullivan's lips twitched into the faintest of smirks, finding Louis' frustration amusing. "Help? You're in here asking me questions like I know where my brother is. What do you want me to say?"

Liam's voice hardened. "Start with the basics. What's his connection to Joker? Why would he target your company? You must know something."

Sullivan shifted slightly in his seat but remained silent. His expression was one of a man who had nothing to lose. Louis was about to press harder when Sullivan's lips parted just enough to say something.

"It's over," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. The words were strange, cryptic, and sudden. "As soon as he says so it's lights out."

Louis froze, his eyes narrowing. "What does that mean? Who's he?" he demanded.

Sullivan didn't respond. His gaze flicked to the door like he was already thinking about his escape. Liam slammed his hand down on the table, his voice rising. "Who are you talking about? What's over?"

But Sullivan simply got to his feet. "You're wasting your time."

He walked toward the door with slow, deliberate steps, ignoring the questioning glances from both Liam and Louis.

As Sullivan disappeared through the door, the two brothers exchanged a glance.

"That's it?" Louis asked. "Just another dead end?"

Liam shook his head, visibly agitated. "We need to get a lead on the car from the crime scene," he replied. "It's the only thing we have left."

Louis nodded stiffly. Maybe not the only thing.

***

Louis stepped cautiously into the factory, the familiar, musty scene almost a comfort, a constant, despite the dilapidated setting. Louis' gaze flicked around the space, searching for any sign of movement, anything out of place. But it was eerily quiet. No Joker, just the cold emptiness of the factory.

Louis walked to the middle of the room, eyes catching a glimpse of something sitting on top of one of the crates.  It was a folded piece of paper, its edges frayed and worn as if it had been handled frequently. Louis approached it cautiously, glancing around one more time before he picked up the note.

It was scrawled in Harry's familiar handwriting, sharp and slanted.

"Tick-tock, sweetheart.  Check the back of the factory. Time is running out. Your loving Joker x"

A cold knot twisted in Louis' stomach. The words were casual enough, but the implications—

Louis didn't waste another second. He pushed forward, heading toward the back of the factory, the sense of urgency pressing on him. But as he rounded the corner, the sight of Harley Quinn leaning against a pile of crates made him stop dead in his tracks.

Harley smiled at him, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, he was right," he drawled, crossing his arms over his chest. "You really do love chasing after him, don't you?"

Louis narrowed his eyes. "Where is he?" he demanded, his voice low, barely controlled. "I'm not here for you, Harley."

Harley shrugged nonchalantly, unfazed by his threat. "Oh, birdie, the boss is busy. Got more important things to do than play with you right now," he pushed himself off the crates and stepped forward, gaze locking with Louis'. "But you're here. That's all that matters."

Louis clenched his jaw. "What's going on? Why is robbing Kavanagh and all the other companies? How is Sullivan involved?"

Harley's lips curled into a sly grin. "Sullivan?" he repeated, as though the word tasted foreign on his tongue. "Sweetheart, Sullivan isn't the one running the show. But he's spreading the word now, isn't he?"

Louis stared at him, trying to process what he was implying. "Spreading the word? What word?"

"Oh, you know, the word," Harley said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Don't worry, darling. You're not as far behind as you think," he flashed a wicked grin. "You're so close. You might just get to see the fireworks before it all goes dark."

Louis' mind was racing, trying to connect the dots.

Before he could ask more, Harley added one last piece of cryptic information, his voice a low murmur as he stepped back. "Sullivan's not just sitting in a cell because of some petty crime. He's got a purpose. But you'll figure that out soon enough."

"Why did he rob Kavanagh?" Louis rushed out. "The electrical lines, the sewer systems?" he listed. "What does he need that for?"

Harley smiled at him. "Oh, that was my work," he said. "My artwork didn't tip you off?"

"You wouldn't have done it without his say-so," Louis countered. "Why?"

"You said it yourself. Electrical lines, sewer routes, traffic control," Harley explained. "One plus one is..." he sang.

Louis fumbled, mouth agape. "I don't understand."

Harley sighed dramatically. "He said you were smart."

Louis swallowed. "Did he leave me anything?" he asked quickly. "A note, a clue-"

"Nah, just me," Harley replied. "And I think I've given you... enough."

Louis didn't have time to think further. His instincts screamed at him to get out of the factory and back to the Batcave, to get to Liam and the others, but there was one more thing Harley had to say before he turned away.

"Oh, and baby bat?" he called after him. "Don't keep Mister J waiting too long. He hates it when you're late for the party."

Louis shot him one last glare, his heart pounding in his chest. The puzzle pieces were starting to click, but the picture they formed only made things more complicated.

He didn't look back. He turned sharply and left the factory, his footsteps pounding against the cold concrete as he made his way out into the night.

***

The Batcave was alive with the faint hum of monitors and the low mechanical whir of machinery, yet the oppressive tension in the air drowned out even those familiar sounds. Liam was already back by the time Louis got home.

Harlow was a dead end and Niall had gone to chase up more leads with Mallory, leaving Liam and Louis alone to join the dots.

Louis leaned forward at the central console, his eyes darting across the screens as he sifted through schematics and data. Across the room, Liam stood rigid, his dark figure a silhouette against the glow of Gotham's map projected on the wall.

"None of this adds up," Liam muttered, his voice a frustrated growl. He traced a gloved finger along the map's glowing lines. "The shipments, the prison transfers, Kavanagh—it's all noise. No clear target."

"It's almost like he wanted everything," Louis mumbled.

"I'll say," Liam sighed.

Louis didn't respond, his thoughts a frantic whirlwind. His mind replayed every detail from the last few days: Sullivan's smug grin, the stolen schematics from Kavanagh Technologies, his meeting with Harley, Harry's list of power generators.

The fragments clicked and clashed like pieces of a puzzle he couldn't quite assemble. And then, Sullivan's words echoed in his memory: It's lights out.

Louis froze. His fingers hovered over the keyboard as the weight of the words hit him with full force.

"Liam," he said sharply, cutting through the silence.

"What?" Liam asked, his attention snapping to him.

"Sullivan," Louis began, his voice tight with urgency. "What did he say about the city's lights in the recorded interview?"

"Erm," Liam frowned, moving closer and shaking his head.  "Something about them only staying on because Joker says so," he said slowly, his brows knitting together. "Why?"

Louis swallowed. "And then today, he said 'it's lights out'. I think that..."

Louis' stomach turned as the words played over and over in his head. The lights. The city. The control. His gaze darted to the list of locations that Harry had given him yesterday—power grids, electrical nodes, emergency back-ups. He stared at them, his breath catching.

"Oh, my God," Louis whispered.

"What is it?" Liam demanded, his tone sharp.

Louis' fingers moved rapidly across the keyboard, pulling up overlapping maps of Gotham's infrastructure. "The stolen servers from Kavanagh, the shipments, the emergency generators," he listed. "Even Sullivan."

He's spreading the word.

"What?" Liam asked, stepping behind him to peer over his shoulder.

Louis blinked, shaking his head. "Shit," he whispered. "It's all connected."

"To what?" Liam pressed, touching Louis' shoulder.

"The power grid," Louis rushed out. "He's not just moving goods or people—he's been setting this up for months."

Liam's eyes narrowed. "Setting what up?"

Louis turned to him, his expression grim. "A blackout," he said, the word heavy in the air. "He's going to shut Gotham down. The entire city."

"What?" Liam snapped.

"He's got everything he needs!" Louis exclaimed. "The electrics, the backup generators," he hurried. "Even Sullivan, he has him on the inside spreading the word."

Liam's jaw tightened as he took in the gravity of Louis' realization. "A blackout? You're sure?"

"It's all here," Louis said, pointing to the schematics. "Every major grid, every emergency generator—they've already been compromised. He's been planning this for months."

As the words left his mouth, the monitors around them flickered, their glow dimming for a moment before stabilizing.

Liam blinked at him. "If the city has a blackout then everything is compromised," he shook his head. "Louis, the banks, the prisons!"

The monitors flickered again, going dark for a moment before lighting back up.

"Liam," Louis said, his gaze fixed on the screens.

Liam didn't wait. He strode to the comms panel, his voice sharp as he barked orders. "This is Batman. We need units deployed to every power station and main grid in the city. Now."

But Louis shook his head, watching the screen. "It's too late."

Liam turned to him. "What are you talking about?" he snapped, his tone urgent.

Louis pointed at the map and traced the interconnected lines. "These nodes," he said. "They're already compromised. He's there. He's already done it."

As if to confirm his words, the room's lights flickered again. This time, they didn't recover. The monitors blinked off, plunging the Batcave into pitch-black silence.

For a moment, the only sound was their breathing, sharp and uneven in the suffocating dark. And then, through the comms, came a low, mocking laugh.

"Aw, sweetheart," The Joker's voice sounded, smooth and venomous. "Your time's up."

Louis sat frozen, his breath shallow, as the laugh echoed and faded, leaving them in silence.

Liam's voice broke through, firm and resolute. "We have to go!" he was already grabbing his mask.

But Louis' gaze remained fixed on the darkened screen in front of him, the weight of The Joker's words pressing down like a vice.

"He's already won," Louis whispered.

Chapter Text

17: Plots of a Pariah

---

It started with the lights going out.

The city was catapulted into a sickening darkness, with the power shutting down throughout every inch of the town.

The reports rushed in immediately. The armoury was the first target; the lack of power shutting down all of its defences and leaving it open to whichever criminal got there first. With the power grid down, the prisons were no longer secure. It didn't take long for the criminals, led by Sullivan,  to overrun the jails and break past any police on shift. The armoury was the first place they headed.

Rebel groups from across the city, both political and otherwise, made it their mission to tear apart the town hall, setting fire to statues and flags throughout the city.

The streets were a war zone. The city's pulse was erratic, flickering with chaos as every corner seemed to unravel further. Sirens screamed in the distance, and the steady hum of destruction permeated the air. Looters raided stores, banks were torn apart, and the growing sound of anarchy fractured Gotham's heartbeat. The city was cloaked in darkness, and everything that kept it running was falling apart.

Louis and Liam, along with a small team of police, fought tirelessly to restore order, but it felt like trying to hold back a tidal wave. Louis had already been to the armoury and tried his best to stop the flood of weapons, but it was a losing battle. Every minute, the city was slipping further through their fingers.

Liam had barely been able to keep up with the destruction. Louis tried to push forward, organizing efforts with the police to reclaim some semblance of order, but it was too late. Every corner he turned, chaos greeted him, and his mind couldn't stop racing. He knew who was behind it all.

"Focus, Louis!" Liam's voice broke through his thoughts.

The city was on fire, literally, and if they didn't stop this soon, it would be all over.

"Tell me what to do," Louis insisted, sending another criminal to the ground with a sharp kick. 

"We're trying everything," Liam said, his voice tight. "But these guys, they know exactly where to hit. Every time we try to stop one thing, they're already three steps ahead."

Liam fought three armed men simultaneously, cape swirling as he hurled his batarangs with precision.

"We need to get one of the generators up and running," Louis barked into his comms, eyeing the smoke billowing from the power station. "We're running  out of time."

Louis made his way up to the roof, running up a series of escape ladders to get a better view of the city on fire.

"How bad is it?" Liam asked, breath ragged.

Louis swallowed, from up here, overlooking the situation was worse. The police were outnumbered, and the streets were covered in a layer of smoke. "Not looking good."

"We need to find him, now!" Liam hissed. 

As Louis reached for his comms, he caught sight of a single billboard, which lit up despite the rest of the city's darkness. A single message flashed across the screen: "The power's out, sweetheart. And Gotham is waiting for you. Don't miss the tide."

"Louis!" Liam shouted, snapping him back to reality. "We need that power back online. It's only a matter of time before things completely break down."

Louis swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the decision pressing against his chest. He looked down at the streets, watching Liam fight with determination.

"Did you see that?" Louis asked once Liam had knocked the man to the floor.

Liam's response was immediate. "See what?"

Louis blinked as the billboard flickered back to blackness. "The billboard," he said. "The message," he whispered. "I have to go."

He could see Liam look around from his position on the ground "What?" he snapped, brows furrowed. "Where the hell are you going? This isn't the time to disappear on me."

"He left a message for me," Louis rushed out, already making his way to the ground. "I have to fix this."

"Louis-"

"I know where he is," Louis informed. "I'm going after him."

"Wait," Liam demanded. "I'll get back up."

"No," Louis said quickly. "I have to do this alone."

Louis reached the bottom of the stairs, glancing back to check on Liam for a moment before sprinting down the street.

Liam's voice was firm on the other end of the comms. "Don't you dare go alone, Louis."

"I'm sorry," Louis replied immediately. "I'm sorry, but I have to."

"Listen to me, we can do this together. Don't you dare-"

Louis cut him off. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "Please, just stay safe."

"No, wait, Louis-" Robin shut off his comms.

The city was unravelling faster than Louis could run. He sprinted through the rain-soaked streets, his body aching, but his mind sharp with determination. His breath was ragged, his fists clenched at his sides as he darted through the chaos. He could feel the city collapsing under the weight of the blackout;  the forces trying to keep everything in check were stretched thin.

He reached the docks in record timing, breathing hard as he looked around in search of The Joker.

"Joker!" he yelled, turning against the city's backdrop.

The rain began to come down hard. Gotham burned in the distance, the skyline illuminated by bursts of flame and the harsh glare of flashing police lights. Louis stood at the edge of the ruined docks as Harry appeared from the shadows, his green eyes alight with mischief.

"I take it you got my message?" Harry's grin was razor-sharp.

"This isn't a game," Louis snapped, his fists clenched at his sides. "Call them off. Stop the riots, the breakouts—stop all of it."

Harry tilted his head, feigning confusion. "Why would I do that? Chaos is such a delightful canvas."

"You'll destroy Gotham," Louis said, his voice hard. "There'll be nothing left. Not even for you."

"Mm," Harry hummed, stepping closer. "Let me guess, you're going to stop me?" he mocked. "You couldn't if you tried."

Louis didn't even think; he lunged forward, a desperate rage consuming him as he threw a punch at Harry's face. The blow almost landed, but Harry dodged, stepping aside just in time, a chuckle escaping his lips. 

"Slow, as usual," Harry taunted.

Louis threw another fierce punch. Harry moved again; his fist slammed into the dock's wooden posts with a loud crack. Harry's laughter echoed around them, and Louis' fury only intensified.

"Stop laughing," Louis growled, launching at him.

Harry grinned even wider. "You're angry now. I like that. You've learned how to fight back."

Louis struck again, this time catching Harry's arm and wrenching it back, but Harry spun, using Louis' momentum against him. He slammed Louis into one of the nearby crates, sending pain through his back.

Lous stood immediately, throwing himself back into the fight.

The fight between them was nothing like the sparring matches they'd had before. This time, there was no playful banter, no taunts. Louis fought with raw, visceral anger, blood mixing with the rain that poured down around them. His every movement was a flurry of desperation. His ribs ached with every breath and his leg screamed in pain with each step. But he kept going, relentless, determined to take Harry down.

Harry, on the other hand, was a shadow of calm amid the storm. He barely had to dodge, using the same effortless movements he'd mastered in countless battles before. 

With each blow Louis landed, Harry retaliated with one that knocked him back harder, sending him stumbling to the ground.

"You think Batman will save Gotham? Think again. He's weak," The Joker said. "But you? You have what it takes," he insisted. "Together, we could make it beautiful."

"Shut up," Louis growled.

He flew at Harry, hitting him hard in the face and causing a trickle of blood to spill from his lip. Harry grunted before he sent a blow to Louis' chest, sending him to the floor.

Harry scoffed. "You're a hero, aren't you? But how long do you think that lasts in a city like this?"

Louis was panting from his position on the floor, groaning as he rolled onto his stomach, forcing himself to move.

"You're tired," Harry told him. "You've fought long enough. Don't you see? You're bleeding out. You won't survive this.

Harry kicked Louis' legs out from under him, sending him crashing into the ground with a wet thud. Blood was pooling beneath him, his vision fading at the edges.

"You're only hurting yourself," Harry taunted as he watched Louis struggle to rise again, blood trailing down his chin from a gash across his cheek. "Gotham is already mine. I'm giving you a chance here. Take it."

Louis's vision blurred, his body screaming in protest. His skin was on fire, blood covered every inch of him. He swayed, barely keeping himself upright, but his fists clenched, refusing to give in. Harry stood in front of him, watching with that same damn grin, taunting, waiting for Louis to fall.

"You're not done yet, huh?" Harry observed, his voice dripping with amusement. "You really are stubborn, sweetheart."

Louis, bloodied and battered, charged forward again. He swung a punch, but Harry dodged easily, his grin widening as he caught Louis's wrist and twisted, sending him crashing to the ground with a brutal twist.

Louis gasped, his chest heaving as pain shot through him, his mask slipped from his face leaving him exposed and vulnerable, but he immediately forced himself to stand again, ignoring the dizziness in his head.

The city was falling apart around them, and Harry was the only thing standing in the way of putting it back together. He had to stop him, no matter what.

"You need to stop this, now!" Louis' voice was weak, tired. He couldn't stand without wobbling.

 "And what are you offering in return? A lecture? A good scolding?" his grin widened. "You'll have to do better, sweetheart."

Louis swallowed hard, his heart pounding. "What do you want?" he asked finally. "What will it take?"

Harry's eyes gleamed, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You. By my side. One month."

Louis glared at him. "Never."

"Tick-tock, Robin. The city's already falling apart. Say yes, and I'll make it stop. Say no, and we can watch it burn together."

"I said no!"

Louis lunged again, but he was tired now. Harry sent a blow to his face and Louis almost collapsed, dropping to his knees and heaving.

"Stop fighting," Harry said firmly, gripping Louis' chin and forcing the boy to look up. "You're killing yourself."

Louis pulled from Harry's grasp, trying to stand but falling to the floor. Harry gripped him steadily, but Louis pulled away.

"What?" The Joker asked incredulously. "You're gonna die for this city?" he questioned. "For this filth?"

Louis choked, pained. "Gotta stop you. Gotta-" he couldn't get the words out. The pain was too much.

Harry dropped to his knees in front of Louis, holding him upright. "I'll leave Gotham be. The city will be secured. The prisoners go back to their cells. The armoury will be locked back up. The lights will come back on. No more chaos. You get your Gotham back."

Louis could hardly hold his head. "At what price?"

"You," Harry whispered. "One month. I'll show you what I can do when I have the city in my hands. I'll show you the world from my perspective."

Louis blinked at him. "And what am I supposed to do?"

"You'll help me. You'll be my partner, my ally," Harry told him. "No running, no backing out, and no games," he said. "And when it's over, you walk away."

Louis was silent for a long moment and Harry thought he had him. "If I refuse?"

Harry let out a sigh, his face hardening. "Then Gotham burns," his words were firm, a promise. "By morning, the city will be lost."

Louis didn't answer, slowly looking at Harry. Louis was a mess; he was bruised, bloody and teary-eyed. His breathing was heavy, coming out in rough pants as if he was struggling to stay conscious.

Harry watched him, eyes softening. "But you have to choose, Robin. Now. Or this is it. Gotham falls. And it's over."

Louis swallowed. "You'll call it off? Everything?" he checked. "The prisoners go back, the power goes back on?"

Harry nodded immediately. "I'll even secure the armoury for you, get those weapons off of the streets," he promised.

"And how can I trust you?" Louis asked him. "You've been playing me this whole time."

Harry cradled his face, fingers slipping from the blood. "You have my word," he whispered. "And, sweetheart, you're running out of time."

Louis scanned his eyes, searching for the lie within them but he found none. He looked down, a tear slipping down his cheek. Harry looked at him insistently, reaching out to wipe Louis' tears with the pad of his thumb.

"Well?" Harry purred.

It took a few moments for Louis to answer. 

"Fine," he said, at last, looking up to meet Harry's eyes. His voice was barely a whisper. "I'll join you."

Harry grinned as if he'd been granted the world's greatest treasure. "Then we have ourselves a deal, darling."

Louis collapsed.

Chapter Text

18: Ruminations of a Rebel

---

Louis' eyes fluttered open to the faint, grey light creeping through the blinds. His body ached in places he didn't know could hurt; his head was pounding, his limbs heavy and uncooperative.

But it wasn't the physical pain that made his chest tighten—it was the weight of the promise he'd made, the one he couldn't undo.

One month. With The Joker.

The bed he lay in was impossibly soft, the sheets cool and luxurious against his skin. Around him, the sleek, modern design of the room came into view. Dark wood panelling, sharp lines of black and chrome, and hints of deep emerald green in the decor. Expensive art adorned the walls, with abstract pieces in bold colours that made the space feel lavish and impersonal.

The far wall was entirely glass, a massive window overlooking Gotham's sprawling cityscape.

He closed his eyes. There was a part of him that didn't want to move. Not yet. Not until he could hold on to the small semblance of hope that maybe, just maybe, he could still fix this.

"You're awake," came a voice, cool and amused.

Louis' breath caught, and he stiffened. His eyes snapped open, and there—leaning against the doorframe—stood The Joker. His eyes glinted with that same dangerous amusement.  He was holding a steaming cup of something in his gloved hands.

Louis sat up slowly, wincing at the stiffness in his ribs, and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. His boots were gone, and his suit was still stained and scuffed from the events of the night before.

"What's happening?" Louis finally managed, his voice rough and cracked.

The Joker moved closer, not quite threatening, but still too close for comfort. His gaze lingered on Louis, studying him with a strange mix of affection and amusement. "You're panicking," he said. "It's cute."

"Where am I?" Louis demanded.

Harry stepped into the room with an exaggerated flourish, gesturing grandly with the cup. "Can't you tell from the delightful decor?" he asked.

Louis' stomach churned as his gaze flicked to the room again. This wasn't just any place—this was The Joker's place. The thought made his skin crawl.

"This is your place?" he mumbled, the disbelief clear in his tone. "But this is... it's a secret," he said. "Nobody knows where you live. No one's been here, not even Harley."

Harry smiled. "And yet, here you are."

Louis pushed himself to his feet, wobbling slightly as the ache in his muscles protested. "How did I get here?" he asked, his tone edged with suspicion.

Harry sauntered closer, setting the cup on a sleek glass table as he approached. "Oh, you don't remember?" he said. "You fainted. Not very heroic of you, sweetheart."

"I did not faint," Louis huffed.

Harry grinned. "Sure you did," he whispered. "Right into my arms, too. Don't worry, sweetheart, I caught you."

"I need to go," Louis said quickly, his desperation evident in every word. He tried to step forward, but The Joker stepped in front of him.

"If it helps your pride, darling, we can call it 'a dramatic collapse'," he teased but Louis made to step past him again. Harry blocked him. "Oh come on, sweetheart. Don't get shy, it was romantic."

"I have to go," Louis insisted, looking up at Harry with wide eyes.

Harry's grin faltered for a fraction of a second, his green eyes narrowing slightly. Then he stepped back, spreading his arms in mock innocence. "Go where?" he asked. "You agreed to this."

The words hit Louis like a physical blow, and for a moment, he couldn't respond. The weight of the promise he'd made crashed down on him, cold and suffocating.

"I—" Louis' voice cracked, and he swallowed, shaking his head. "I didn't mean—"

"Didn't mean to what?" The Joker's voice was smooth, cutting through Louis' panic with casual ease. "You've made your choice, Robin. You're here now. You're mine."

Louis shook his head again. "I didn't agree to this."

"Didn't you?" Harry countered. "One month, sweetheart. That's what you promised. Or have you forgotten already?"

Louis' breath hitched as the memory rushed back—his desperation to stop the blackout, the weight of the deal he'd made.

"I need to see-" he hesitated, his voice faltering. "Batman, is he..?"

Harry raised a brow. "Alive?" his expression didn't change, but something dangerous flickered behind his eyes. "For now," he said simply. "I'll keep my word if you keep yours."

Louis' throat tightened. "Where is he?" he managed to rasp, his voice shaking.

The Joker's lips curled into a wicked grin. "Safe."

"I need to see him," Louis said immediately.

Harry looked him over thoughtfully. "Come here," he said suddenly, stepping toward the window.

Robin eyed him curiously for a moment, hesitating before he crossed the room. He stopped beside The Joker, watching his eyes as they flickered over the city.

"What do you see?" Harry asked softly, glancing at Louis.

Louis frowned, shaking his head before shrugging. "I see Gotham," he said finally.

Harry smiled. "Always so creative," he muttered. "This is a city handing by a thread," he gestured to the window. "And me? I'm the one holding the scissors," he explained. "Everything is back in one piece. You're welcome, by the way," he said. "But all it takes is one little snip," he made a scissor-snipping motion with his fingers.

Louis blinked at him. "How did you stop it?"

"Oh, it wasn't difficult. Just a few well-placed calls to a few well-placed people," The Joker answered. "When I flip the switch, people listen."

Louis' stomach churned at the thought. "So that's it? You just... decided to end it? All that for nothing."

Harry tilted his head to look at Louis. "Not for nothing, sweetheart. For you," his eyes were gleaming. "I planned it that way from the start. The blackout wasn't the point—it was the message."

"The message?" Louis repeated.

"Yes. The message that Gotham belongs to me. The Joker giveth and The Joker taketh away. And now," he added, his voice dropping to a purr, "I have you."

Louis' nose twitched in anger. "You didn't have to drag the whole city into it."

Harry's gaze locked onto Louis'. "But where's the fun in that?" he stepped closer, his presence filling the space between them. "And now, you're here.  I held up my end of the deal and now it's time for you to deliver."

Louis swallowed. "I need to see him," he said again. "I need to make sure he's okay," he looked up at Harry. "Please."

The Joker tilted his head, considering. "You have until midnight," he said finally. "No running, no tricks."

Louis' heart skipped a beat, a wave of relief washing over him as he nodded immediately. The relief was short-lived; he knew he'd have to tell Liam what he'd done, and then he'd have to come back to The Joker willingly.

"Thank you," Louis' voice was a whisper.

Louis turned and headed for the door. As he reached the threshold, Harry called after him. "Say your goodbyes," he said. "Don't keep me waiting, darling. The clock's ticking."

Louis didn't look back.

***

The house was a storm of chaos when Louis pushed the door open. Inside, voices clashed as Liam stood at the centre of it all, barking orders into a comm device. His tone was sharp, and commanding, but undercut with exhaustion and something else—panic.

"I don't care what it takes," Liam growled. "Track him down! He's out there somewhere, and—no. No, don't give me excuses. Just find him!"

Louis hesitated in the doorway, his body aching from the night before. Every instinct told him to turn back, to slip away before Liam saw him. But it was too late.

Liam froze mid-sentence as he turned and spotted Louis standing in the entryway. His eyes widened, disbelief flashing across his face before it was replaced by something rawer. Relief. Anger. Fear.

"Louis." Liam's voice cracked as he said his name. He crossed the room in seconds, his hands gripping Louis' shoulders as if to confirm he was real. "Where the hell have you been?" his eyes darted over Louis' battered form, studying every injury. "What happened to you?"

"I..." Louis hesitated, the words caught in his throat. "I'm here now."

"That's not an answer!" Liam snapped, his voice rising with anger. He cupped Louis' face gently, tilting it toward the light to examine the cut on his temple, and the swelling along his jaw. His thumb brushed against a patch of dried blood near Louis' hairline, and he swore under his breath. "Jesus, Louis. What did he do to you?"

"I'm fine," Louis said quietly, but the words rang hollow. His body screamed otherwise, and Liam's sharp glare told him he wasn't convincing anyone.

"No, you're not," Liam growled, his grip tightening. "I've been up all night looking for you! Do you have any idea—" his voice broke off as he exhaled sharply, trying to steady himself as he looked over Louis' bruised and bloodied state. "I thought you were dead."

The words hit Louis like a punch to the chest. He swallowed hard, guilt coiling tightly in his stomach. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Liam almost laughed. "That's it?" he released Louis abruptly, stepping back. "What happened last night?" he asked, his tone sharper now. "One minute Gotham's burning, and the next... nothing. The blackout stopped. The rioters scattered. The Joker called it off. Why?"

Louis swallowed, shaking his head. "I-" he couldn't get the words out.

Liam's eyes searched Louis' face, and then the realisation dawned. "Louis," he said slowly, his voice dropping. "What did you do?"

Louis took a shaky breath, forcing himself to meet Liam's eyes. "I made a deal," he said finally, his voice trembling.

Liam's face twisted with confusion and anger. "A deal?" he echoed, his tone sharp. "What kind of deal?"

"With The Joker," Louis admitted. The words hung heavy in the air.

Liam's eyes widened, and for a moment, he didn't speak. Then his expression twisted, his voice rising in a mix of disbelief and fury. "With The Joker? What does that mean, Louis?"

"I had to," Louis said quickly, the words tumbling out in a rush. "He promised to stop. The blackout, the chaos—"

Liam cut him off. "At what price?"

Louis hesitated, the weight of the truth pressing on his chest like a stone. He swallowed again. "Me," he said finally, his voice trembling.

The silence that followed was deafening. Liam took a step back, his body rigid, as if the air had been knocked out of him. "You," he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. "What... what did you do?"

"He promised no more attacks for a whole month," Louis said frantically. "Gotham gets peace, Liam. I didn't have a choice!"

"You didn't have a choice?" Liam's voice rose sharply, his fists clenching at his sides. "So your solution was to sell yourself to him?"

"It's one month," Louis said, his voice cracking. "That's it! I stay with him for a month, and he promised no more chaos. No more riots. No more killing."

"And you actually believe him?" Liam's voice was incredulous. "You think he's going to let you walk away after that?"

"I don't trust him," Louis admitted. "But I didn't have a choice! He was going to burn Gotham to the ground, and you with it! I had to stop him."

Liam stared at him, his chest heaving as he struggled to process what he was hearing. "You should've come to me," he said, his voice quieter now but still heavy with anger. "We could've stopped him together!"

"I didn't have a choice!" Louis insisted, his voice rising. "You think I wanted to do this? You think I didn't try to find another way?"

"We're supposed to be a team!" Liam snapped.

Louis' bottom lip trembled. "It's done. The city's safe. You're safe."

Liam's expression twisted with pain, and his hands trembled at his sides. "Safe?" he repeated bitterly. "You think you're safe with him? You think he's going to let you go?"

"He will," Louis said, though the words felt empty. "He promised."

"Stop saying that!" Liam yelled. "He doesn't keep promises, Louis! He's manipulating you—he's using you, and you're letting him!"

"I'm not letting him do anything!" Louis shouted, his voice raw with frustration. "You think I wanted this? You think I don't know what I've done? But it's the only way to keep Gotham from falling apart!"

Liam stared at him, his chest rising as his fury boiled over. "Where is he?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. "Where is he? I'm going to kill him."

"No," Louis said firmly, stepping back. "You can't."

"I'm not asking," Liam growled. "I'll find him myself, and when I do—"

"I can't let you." Louis interrupted, his voice trembling but resolute.

Liam froze, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief. "You're protecting him?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Louis, do you even hear yourself? You're protecting him."

"I'm protecting you!" Louis shouted. "If you go after him now, he'll think I betrayed him. And if that happens, he'll destroy everything. He'll destroy you."

Liam's anger gave way to something more desperate. "Don't go," he said finally, his voice breaking. "Please, Louis. We can fix this. Together."

"I already did fix it," Louis said softly, his voice heavy with finality. "I made a deal," he whispered, shaking his head. "I can't go back on it now," he muttered. "He'll kill us both."

Liam stared at him, his face a mix of heartbreak and helplessness. Finally, he spoke again, his voice low and strained. "One month," he said. "That's it?"

Louis nodded, his throat tight. "That's it," he said softly. "I promise."

Liam turned away abruptly, his shoulders tense. Slowly, tentatively, Louis stepped closer and wrapped his arms around Liam in a hesitant hug.

Liam froze at first, his body stiff with tension. Then he turned, his arms coming up and wrapping around Louis tightly, pulling him close. His grip was almost crushing as if he were trying to hold Louis together, to keep him from slipping away.

"You're all I have," Liam murmured, his voice muffled against Louis' shoulder.

Louis' throat tightened, his eyes burning with tears. "I know," he whispered. "I know."

He did know. He knew exactly how they carried the weight of everything they'd been through—losing their parents, the battles they'd fought, the fragile bond they clung to in the face of everything trying to tear them apart. They shouldered their share of heartbreak but they'd done so together. Always together.

For a moment, the chaos outside didn't matter. All that existed was Liam's grip—strong and grounding.

When Liam finally let go, the room felt heavier. They shared a brief, heartbreaking silence before Louis nodded, turning toward the door. 

"You come back to me, okay?" Liam said, his voice a whisper.

Louis nodded. "I promise."

The promise felt fragile, like glass on the verge of shattering.

"If you're wrong about this..." Liam didn't finish the sentence, but the weight of his unspoken words hung heavily in the air.

Louis didn't respond. He stepped out into the night.

Midnight was coming. And the clock was ticking.

Chapter Text

19: Antics of an Avenger

-----

The sound of the door creaking open was the only announcement Louis made as he stepped into the dimly lit apartment. His body ached from the weight of the night, but his mind was louder, buzzing with everything left unsaid between him and Liam.

Harry stood near the window, bathed in the faint glow of the city lights. A glass of dark amber liquid dangled loosely from his fingers. He didn't look up as Louis entered, but the small smirk curling his lips spoke volumes.

"You're late," Harry said, his tone casual, almost bored.

"Yeah, well, I've been busy," Louis muttered, shrugging off his jacket and letting it fall carelessly onto the back of a chair.

Harry chuckled softly, then took a slow step toward Louis. His eyes glinted with mockery as he closed the distance. "Busy saying goodbye to your big, bad Bat?" he asked, leaning in closer. "Did he cry, or was he too proud for that?"

Louis froze, his fists clenching at his sides. "Don't."

"What?" Harry tilted his head, feigning innocence. "I'm just curious. No tears from Gotham's finest?"

The taunt hit Louis like a spark to dry kindling. Without thinking, he lunged forward, pushing Harry back and smacking the glass from his hand. Amber liquid splashed across the floor as the glass shattered with a loud crash.

Harry's reflexes were quick—his free hand shot out, catching Louis's wrist before it could strike again. He didn't flinch—just held Louis' wrist firm in his grip. 

"Careful, sweetheart," Harry murmured, his voice steady despite the tension crackling between them. "You're making a mess."

Louis twisted in frustration, trying to break free. He swung his other arm at Harry, wild with rage. Harry grabbed him again, holding him still without retaliating. The Joker moved quickly, using his grip on Louis' wrist to press him against the wall with force.

Louis' breath hitched as the air was knocked from his chest, his back slamming into the cool surface. Before he could react, Harry had pinned him firmly, his body crowding Louis, trapping him with an almost lazy strength.

"Get off of me!" Louis shouted.

Louis squirmed, trying to twist from Harry's grip to lash out at him. Harry held him firmly, letting Louis tire himself out as he thrashed around in Harry's grip. It took a few minutes for him to calm down, becoming weak and pliant in Harry's hold.

"Are you done yet?" Harry asked, his tone more amused than annoyed.

Louis' chest heaved with each laboured breath, his muscles trembling from the frustration that burned through him. He tried to fight for a few seconds, but the fight drained from him quickly as his energy slipped away, leaving him feeling more exhausted than angry. His wrists were pinned firmly in Harry's hands, his back pressed against the cold wall.

His body slumped slightly, the rage that had sparked in him now fading. He couldn't escape, couldn't break free. His breath was ragged, each breath a slow release of the tension that had built up between them.

"Feel better?" Harry pressed, his green eyes gleaming with something too complicated to name.

"Go to hell," Louis spat, his voice raw with exhaustion.

Harry grinned, finally releasing his hold. "Oh, sweetheart, I've been there. It's terribly overrated," he stepped back, giving Louis space to collect himself. "Save your energy. You'll need it."

Louis shot him a glare. "For what?"

Harry's grin widened. "Tomorrow," he answered. "We're tracking someone."

"And you're not going to tell me who until then?" Louis asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Earn it," Harry said simply, his tone light but resolute. He turned away, heading toward the kitchen. "Now get some rest. You're no use to me half-dead."

Louis watched him go, his breath slowly returning to normal as the adrenaline began to fade. His body ached, and the weariness of the day, or past few days,—the farewell to Liam, the struggle in Harry's grip, the blackout—began to settle deep in his bones. But even as his physical energy drained, something else weighed on him.

The apartment, now silent except for the faint hum of the city below, felt suffocating. Harry was right—Louis would need rest, but not just to recover from the fight. 

With a heavy sigh, Louis ran a hand through his hair, staring at the mess on the floor and felt a flicker of regret. He had to remind himself that he was doing this for Gotham. He had to.

***

Louis sat at the edge of the couch, elbows resting on his knees, his head hung low. The weight of the deal he'd made sat heavily on his shoulders, pressing down like a suffocating fog.

Harry stood at the counter, flipping through a file of papers. His movements were smooth and deliberate, every action performed with a strange kind of grace. When he finally turned toward Louis, he was holding a map of Gotham, the corners curling slightly.

"Let's talk strategy," Harry said, dropping the map onto the coffee table in front of Louis. His voice was light but carried an undercurrent of command.

Louis barely glanced at the map, his eyes fixed on the floor.

"Sweetheart," Harry said, his tone sharp enough to cut through the haze surrounding Louis' thoughts. "You're not even looking."

"The deal is for me to be here," Louis said flatly, his voice low and edged with defiance. "Not for me to care."

Harry stilled, his green eyes narrowing as he studied Louis. For a moment, there was silence between them, heavy and charged. Then Harry stepped closer, leaning down until he was at eye level with Louis.

"You're really going to sit there," Harry murmured, his tone deceptively soft, "and act like this doesn't matter?"

Louis met his gaze, his jaw tightening. "It doesn't matter to me."

Harry straightened, his lips curling into a slow, dangerous grin. "That's adorable," he said, turning back to the counter. "But let me clue you in on something, sweetheart. You don't get to sit this one out. Not when I've already got the pieces in place."

Louis' stomach twisted at the words, but he kept his expression neutral. "What's the plan?" he asked finally, his tone clipped.

Harry turned back toward him, his grin widening. "You're curious after all," he said, almost mocking.

"I'm not curious," Louis shot back. "I just want to know what I'm walking into."

The Joker chuckled, the sound low and amused. "Good. Because you're walking into something big." He reached for a new map, unfolding it further to reveal a list of names, each one underlined, the ink dark and urgent.

Louis' eyes flicked to the list despite himself, his curiosity betraying him. "Who are these people?"

"Players," The Joker said, his voice turning cold as he tapped one of the names with a gloved finger. "People who've been thriving in the chaos since the blackout. Thieves. Smugglers. Hackers. Opportunists crawling out of the woodwork."

Louis stiffened at the mention of the blackout, the memory of Gotham plunged into chaos still fresh in his mind.

The Joker caught the flicker of recognition in Louis' eyes and smiled. "Ah, you're starting to see it now," he said, his voice almost taunting. "These people, they've gotten comfortable. Too comfortable. They've been running their little games long enough. It's time to clean up."

Louis' fists clenched at his sides. "So you want me to help clean up your mess?"

The Joker's smile softened, but his eyes gleamed with something dangerous. "I need you to be my shadow," he said simply. "Eyes, ears, a little misdirection where needed. Nothing too taxing, I promise."

Louis ignored the jab, his gaze flicking to the papers on the table. "So, what exactly do you need me to do?"

The Joker set the map down, tapping one of the names with a gloved finger. "One of these players is making a move in the Diamond District. I need you to find out what they're up to."

Louis frowned, suspicion creeping into his voice. "And what are you doing while I'm running errands for you?"

The Joker stepped back, his grin widening. "You'll see," he said cryptically.

Louis stared at The Joker for a moment, his chest tight. "How many of them are out there?" he asked.

Harry handed him the list. "Four," he answered. "But don't worry, I'm keeping tabs on them," he said. "Just want to see what they're planning before we lock them up and throw away the key."

Louis took the list and eyed the names; some he recognised as criminals he'd been involved in taking down. He nodded and put the paper down. "I'll get ready."

"No need," Harry told him. "You don't need your hero suit for this one."

Louis furrowed his brows. "Undercover?"

Harry nodded. "No cape, sweetheart," he said. "You're my eyes and ears."

Louis nodded stiffly in understanding. "I'll head to the Diamond District now."

The Joker's grin widened, but there was a glimmer of something darker in his eyes. "I'll be right behind you."

Louis raised an eyebrow. "What, you're coming too?" he huffed. "Here I was thinking I'd get away from you."

The Joker chuckled, low and amused. "Not so fast, Robin," he teased, stepping closer. "You think I'd let you have all the fun? I'm just as invested in this little game."

Louis shot him a sideways glance, not bothering to hide his irritation, but he didn't protest. With a heavy sigh, he grabbed his jacket from the couch and made for the door. The Joker followed him, his footsteps a quiet echo.

As they stepped into the cool evening, the door slammed shut behind them. Louis felt the weight of Harry's presence beside him, the tension between them palpable. The Joker moved effortlessly, like a shadow that never quite left, but Louis had learned by now not to let that get to him.

"Let's make this quick," Louis muttered, adjusting his jacket.

Harry smirked. "Oh, it'll be quick. But it won't be easy."

Louis didn't respond. Instead, he focused on the task ahead, knowing that whatever happened next, he wasn't walking into it alone.

***

Jenson Marks had always been a slippery one. A former getaway driver turned smuggler, he'd made a name for himself as the man who could move anything, anywhere, no questions asked. He wasn't the most dangerous of the escapees, but his knack for disappearing made him a priority on The Joker's list.

And now, after staying under the radar, he'd surfaced in the heart of Gotham's Diamond District.

Louis kept to the shadows as he trailed Jenson through the narrow streets. The man moved with purpose, his hunched shoulders and hurried pace making it clear he didn't want to be followed.

"Marks is on the move," Harry's voice crackled in Louis' ear, sharp and precise. Louis glanced upward instinctively, spotting the faint outline of Harry's figure on the rooftop above. The Joker stood poised, watching the streets below with unsettling calm.

"I see him," Louis murmured, trailing Jenson through the crowded streets. The man moved with a quick, confident stride, his head turning occasionally to scan his surroundings.

"Stay close," Harry said, the edge in his voice unmistakable. "Don't let him slip."

Jenson turned a corner and Louis trailed behind.

"You're losing him," Harry's voice crackled through the comm in Louis' ear, the playful edge grating against his nerves.

"I'm not losing him," Louis muttered, quickening his step.

Jenson turned sharply into an alleyway, disappearing through a side door with a flickering neon sign above it. Louis paused at the edge of the alley, peering around the corner. The sign read "The Rusted Nail" in garish red letters.

Louis hesitated. "He just went into a bar," he said under his breath.

"Well, don't just stand there," Harry said. "Go after him."

"Why would he come here?" Louis asked, frowning.

"Maybe he's thirsty," Harry quipped. "Go in. Mingle. See what he's up to."

Louis hesitated. "What if he spots me?"

"Then I'll get you a drink," Harry quipped. "You look like you could use one."

Louis exhaled sharply, adjusting his jacket as he stepped into the bar. The heavy door groaned as he pushed it open, the smell of stale beer and cigarette smoke hitting him immediately. The dimly lit bar was crowded, the hum of voices and clinking glasses masking his entrance.

Jenson was at the bar, talking to a man in a leather jacket. They exchanged a quick handshake, and the man passed Jenson a small envelope before slipping away into the crowd.

"I see him," Louis murmured, taking careful steps towards his target.

"Good," Harry replied. "Now, charm him."

Louis froze. "What?"

"You heard me," Harry said smoothly. "Get close to him. Find out what he knows."

"You want me to flirt with him?" Louis hissed, keeping his voice low.

"What, you'd rather take him to dinner first?" Harry's laugh echoed in his ear. "I admire that you're a gentleman, Robin, but we don't really have time for that."

Louis rolled his eyes, his annoyance bubbling over. "You're impossible."

"Don't pout," Harry said. "It's unbecoming. Now, go on."

Jenson was nursing a whiskey, his attention focused on the envelope in his hand.

Louis squared his shoulders, weaving through the crowd until he reached the bar. He hadn't even made it to a stool when Jenson's sharp gaze landed on him.

"You're a little young to be in here, aren't you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he took another sip of his drink. His voice was rough, but there was an edge of humour to it.

Louis slid onto the stool next to him, matching his smirk. "You're a little forward for someone drinking alone."

Jenson chuckled, his rough laugh cutting through the bar's noise. "Touché," he said, taking a slow sip of his whiskey. "You're not from around here, are you?"

Louis leaned back slightly, feigning nonchalance. "Just passing through," he said, glancing at Jenson's glass. "Figured I'd stop for a drink."

Jenson laughed. "And you settled on this place?" he asked. 

Louis tilted his head as he looked at Jenson. "What's wrong with this place?" he questioned. "It's got you here, hasn't it?"

Jenson licked his bottom lip, nodding softly. "Maybe I'm part of what's wrong with this place," he said. His eyes flickered over Louis, taking in every inch of him. "You've got guts, kid. I'll give you that."

"Don't call me kid," Louis said with a mock frown. "Makes me sound... inexperienced."

Jenson laughed, shaking his head. "Alright, fair enough. So what's your name?"

Louis grinned. "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

"Cute," he muttered, huffing out a laugh. "I'm Jenson."

Louis leaned back slightly "Luke," he said, the lie slipping easily off his tongue. He glanced briefly toward the window, catching a faint shadow on the rooftop outside. Harry was still there, watching.

"Alright, Luke," Jenson said, setting his glass down. "What brings you to The Rusted Nail?"

Louis shrugged, keeping his tone casual. "I could ask you the same thing. Thought this place looked... interesting."

"Interesting, huh?" Jenson smirked, his eyes narrowing slightly. "And what exactly caught your eye?"

Louis tilted his head, his lips curving into a playful grin. "I don't know. Maybe the company."

Jenson took another sip of his drink before gesturing to the bartender for a refill. "So, what do you do? Or are you just here to sweet-talk strangers?"

Louis chuckled, leaning in slightly. "I've got my hobbies. What about you?"

Jenson's smile faltered just slightly, a flicker of caution crossing his face. "Oh, you know. A little of this, a little of that. Nothing worth writing home about."

"Writing home?" Louis repeated. "You travelling?"

"Nah," Jenson replied, waving a hand. "I've been in the same place a long time."

Louis hummed softly. "Yeah?" he asked, his tone light but laced with curiosity. "Long time in one place... must get boring."

Jenson chuckled, though the sound didn't quite reach his eyes. "Boring's not the worst thing. You stick around long enough, you learn to keep your head down."

"Keeping your head down doesn't sound like fun," Louis said, his lips quirking into a grin. "Sounds like you've been playing it safe."

Jenson raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his stool slightly as he studied Louis. "And you don't strike me as the safe type."

"Depends who I'm with," Louis said, his gaze steady on Jenson's. "Some people make playing it safe look good. Others..." he trailed off. "Well, they're worth the risk."

Jenson huffed a laugh, his gaze flicking over Louis again. "You don't look like someone who knows much about risks."

Louis tilted his head, leaning in just enough to lower his voice. "Well, you'd be surprised."

Jenson's smirk lingered, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—curiosity, maybe. He took another sip of his drink, his posture relaxing slightly. "Alright, you've got my attention. What's a guy like you really doing here?"

"A guy like me?" Louis repeated, brows raised.

Jenson nodded. "Cute, innocent," he listed. " Curious ."

Louis leaned back, holding his hands in mock surrender. "What can I say? You look like someone with stories to tell."

Jenson swirled the whiskey in his glass. "Stories, huh? You looking for a bedtime story or the kind that keeps you up all night?"

Louis laughed softly, and the sound was easy and genuine. "I don't think you're much of a bedtime story guy."

"You're right," Jenson admitted, looking at Louis again. "My stories aren't exactly family-friendly."

Louis leaned in slightly, resting his elbow on the bar. "Skeletons in the closet?"

Jenson tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Hm, don't we all?" he leaned in.

Louis didn't miss the subtle tension that crept into Jenson's voice. "Done something bad?"

Jenson huffed out a laugh, though it lacked humour. "You don't want to know, kid."

Louis' lips parted. "I thought we were past ' kid' ," he said, feigning offence.

Jenson grinned. "Fair enough. Fine, no ' kid '."

Louis leaned back slightly, watching Jenson carefully. "Let me guess," he said, his tone teasing. "You've spent some time in a little box."

Jenson froze for a moment before he raised a brow at Louis. "What makes you say that?"

Louis shrugged. "You've got the look," he replied "And maybe I'm realising I have a type."

"A type, huh?" Jenson's smile grew, his eyes glancing over Louis again. "What? Pretty boy like you hanging round with criminals?" he asked. "Nah, that doesn't sound right."

"They liked to plead their innocence," Louis replied. "What about you?" he checked. "You guilty?"

Jenson laughed, the sound low and rough. "You don't pull punches, do you?" his lips twitched, into a smirk. "Depends who you ask."

"I'm asking you," Louis quipped.

Jenson laughed again, leaning back. "You've got nerve. I like that." Before Louis could respond, Jenson gestured to the bartender, who placed another drink in front of him. "You sure you're just passing through?" Jenson asked.

Louis hesitated, but only for a moment. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I've got a feeling you're not the kind of guy who likes to stay in one place either," Jenson said, his gaze sharp but amused. He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping lower. "You ever think about getting out of here? Somewhere quieter?"

Louis blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. "You offering to take me?" he asked, his tone teasing but measured.

Jenson smirked, tilting his head. "Maybe I am."

"Robin," Harry's voice was sharp in his ear, cutting through the moment like a blade. "Enough."

Louis ignored him, his focus still on Jenson. "I don't even know your last name," he said, his tone light but challenging.

"Marks," Jenson said smoothly. "And now you know."

Harry's voice crackled again, louder this time. "Robin. Leave. Now."

Louis exhaled softly, reaching up to adjust his earpiece. Instead, he turned it off, leaning closer to Jenson. "So, where are you planning on going next?"

Jenson chuckled, shaking his head. "Nice try, Luke. You're not getting my life story tonight."

Louis smirked, sitting back. "Guess I'll have to stick around longer then."

Before Jenson could respond, his phone buzzed on the counter. He glanced at the screen, his smirk fading slightly. "Looks like I've got somewhere to be."

Louis nodded, slipping off the stool. "Maybe next time."

Jenson's eyes lingered on him for a moment. "I'll be around for a while before I have to leave for good," he said. "Come find me," he told Louis with a genuine smile. "Don't keep me waiting too long."

As Jenson disappeared into the crowd. Louis watched him curiously for a moment before standing, pulling his jacket tighter around him and exiting the bar.

Before he could even leave the alleyway, Harry's hand shot out from the shadows, grabbing him by the collar and slamming him against the cold brick wall.

"What the hell was that?" Harry hissed, his face inches from Louis'. His eyes were intense, narrowed with frustration.

Louis blinked, caught off guard by the sudden aggression. "What are you talking about?" he asked, searching Harry's eyes for answers.

"Don't play stupid, Robin," Harry scolded. "You were supposed to be getting information, not drooling after him like some lovesick puppy."

Louis shook his head, confused. "What? I was doing what you told me!" he protested, trying to free himself from Harry's hold. "You told me to charm him!" 

Harry scoffed, his lips curling into a sneer. "Charming him?" he mocked. "Is that what you want to call it?" he asked. "Looked a lot like you begging for attention."

Louis' eyes widened. "Begging for attention?" he repeated, incredulously. "You're insane."

Harry leaned in closer, his voice low and dripping with sarcasm. "You don't need to go begging for attention, sweetheart," he said, his words sharp. "I can give you all the attention you want."

Louis' mouth dropped open in disbelief and he scoffed. "Jealous much?" he shot back, raising an eyebrow. "Is that what this is? You getting possessive over me?"

"Cute, but no," Harry leaned closer, his words a whisper against Louis' cheek. "You're playing by my rules now, remember," he said. "Turning off your earpiece? Bad move, sweetheart,"

Louis stiffened as Harry got closer. "You were distracting me," he croaked. His gaze flickered briefly to Harry's lips before he snapped himself back into the conversation.

Harry's eyes darkened, his lips twitching into a wicked, knowing grin. He hummed softly, leaning even closer. "You don't need to go to some dirty bar to get a kiss, you know. I could give you one right now if that's what you're really after."

Louis swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. "Already made plans, sorry. You missed it with the comms being off."

Harry's expression tightened, but the defiance in Louis' eyes only fueled the fire. He grabbed Louis by the collar again, his grip firm as he pulled him just a little closer. "Don't push it, Robin," he warned, his voice a low growl. "You're off the job," he said, pulling back again to look at Louis.

Louis held his gaze, but there was a flicker of confusion in his eyes. His voice was quieter now. "You hate when you're not the only one having fun, don't you?" he asked, his brows furrowed as his eyes scanned Harry's. "What's with that?"

Harry raised an eyebrow, leaning in closer. "You think that was fun?" his voice was sharp, a quiet challenge hanging in the air.

Louis shook his head. "No, I didn't," he said. "But you'd hate if I did, wouldn't you?"

For a long, tense moment, Harry just stared at him and neither of them moved. There was a flash of something unreadable in Harry's eyes that Louis couldn't quite name as The Joker studied him, fingers still tight around Louis' collar. Louis didn't break his gaze either, his defiance shining through, but there was something in Harry's expression that made his pulse race.

Finally, Harry's lips curled into something darker, an almost approving smirk. "You've got fire, Robin," he murmured, his voice soft but carrying a weight behind it. "Be careful who you burn."

Louis swallowed as Harry finally released him, shoulder dropping as he leaned back against the wall. Louis stood still for a beat longer than he meant to, catching his breath.

Harry turned, making his way down the alleyway. "Come, we've got work to do," he muttered, his voice back to its usual coldness as he walked away, not waiting for Louis to follow.

Louis only hesitated for a moment before following after Harry.

Chapter Text

The next name on the list was one that Louis recognised immediately. A name that he hadn't seen in months.

Louis sat on the edge of the couch, a hand resting on the back of his neck, his mind far away; he looked over the list with a frown before placing it back on the table.

Harry, leaning against the counter with a drink in his hand, was rambling on about the next target.

"Victor Hale," Harry started, his tone smooth and casual. "He's not your average smuggler. Architect by trade, but somewhere along the way, he realised designing blueprints for buildings wasn't nearly as lucrative as drawing up plans for heists. Smart guy, too. Always has an exit strategy. The kind of guy who's slippery enough to make the cops look like fools."

Louis didn't react, but his shoulders tensed ever so slightly.

"After the blackout," Harry continued, "he's back in business. He's been lying low, keeping his operations quiet, but there's whispers all over Gotham. He's hard to track, even harder to catch."

Harry's eyes flickered toward Louis, but Louis didn't answer. His expression was distant, almost calculating. He hadn't moved for a while, but his mind was working fast.

Harry furrowed his brows. "What's got you so deep in thought, Robin?" he asked, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice. "You seem awfully quiet for someone who's supposed to be helping with this."

Louis blinked but didn't look up. He rubbed his thumb over his lower lip, still lost in thought.

Harry's gaze narrowed. He watched Louis, his eyes sharp, studying every little movement. After a beat, Harry let out a soft chuckle. "You already knew all that, didn't you?" he said, his voice more pointed now, a knowing grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

Louis looked up, caught off guard by Harry's sudden insight. His face softened, and he let out a sigh, rubbing a hand through his hair. "Yeah," he muttered. "I know more than you think."

Harry tilted his head, intrigued. "What do you mean?" he raised his glass to his lips.

Louis' gaze shifted to the far wall, his mind replaying the events from the past. "I know where his warehouse is."

Harry paused mid-sip, his green eyes narrowing as he set his glass down. "Do you, now?"

Louis nodded. "He's got a place near the docks. Old industrial warehouse he used to run operations out of before I shut him down."

Harry's grin faltered for a moment, replaced by a flicker of curiosity. "You shut him down?"

"Yeah," Louis said, leaning back against the couch, his tone clipped. "I'm the one who put him away last time."

Harry stepped closer, his curiosity piqued. "You? You put Hale away?" he tilted his head, studying Louis. "How'd you manage that?"

Louis shrugged, his expression unreadable. "It wasn't easy. He's clever, and he knows how to cover his tracks. But he's also predictable. Every operation he's ever run has been meticulously planned" he explained. "He likes structure, and he's not the type to improvise. If he's back, he'll be using the same place—it's familiar and it works."

Harry's gaze lingered on Louis, sharp and calculating. "Interesting. And you didn't think to mention this sooner because...?"

Louis raised an eyebrow. "You didn't ask."

Harry laughed, the sound low and amused. "Right," he leaned forward, resting his hands on the back of the chair opposite Louis. "So, let me guess...you think we should start there?"

"It's the best lead we've got," Louis said firmly. "If he's not there, there'll be something that points us to where he is. Hale's good, but he's not invincible."

Harry straightened. "Alright, sweetheart. Let's go see if your instincts are right. But just so we're clear—if we walk into a trap, you're the one explaining it to the nice men with guns."

Louis rolled his eyes but didn't bother responding to the jab.

As Louis headed for the door, Harry followed close behind, a faint smirk still playing on his lips. "You're awfully eager, Robin. What's the rush?"

"Call it unfinished business," Louis muttered, not looking back.

Harry's laughter echoed through the apartment as the two stepped out into the cold Gotham night.

***

The warehouse was vast and dark, its corners hidden in shadow as Louis moved cautiously through the space. The faint creak of metal and the distant water drip echoed in the silence. His boots crunched softly on the dusty floor as his eyes scanned the surroundings.

"Robin," Harry's voice cut through the quiet, sharp and impatient from somewhere behind him. "What have I told you about wandering off?"

Louis ignored him, his focus caught by odd markings on the floor. They were faint but deliberate, a mix of scratches and stains that seemed to form a pattern leading farther into the room.

"Hey!" Harry barked again, his tone clipped as he appeared at the edge of Louis' vision, his green eyes narrowing. "Stay behind me. That's not a suggestion."

"Relax," Louis shot back, brushing past him as he stepped toward the markings. "I'm just checking it out."

Harry let out an exasperated sigh, raking a hand through his messy hair. "You're impossible, you know that? Do you ever take a break from being so stubborn, or do you just—"

Before Louis could respond, iron spikes shot up around him, forming a crude cage. A metal clamp caught his foot, holding it in place.

He stumbled back, his boot catching on another pressure plate. A smaller spike snapped up from the ground, catching the edge of his thigh.

Louis bit back a cry, gripping his leg as blood seeped through his suit. "Shit," he hissed, trying to steady himself against the bars.

Harry's expression shifted immediately, irritation replaced by sharp focus as he strode toward the trap. "Of course," he muttered under his breath, circling Louis to inspect the contraption. "Couldn't just listen, could you?"

Louis' pride flared, even as he tried to suppress a grimace from the pain. "I've got this," he said stiffly, tugging at his leg in an attempt to free it from the clamp.

Harry shot him a look, his lips curving into a faint, sardonic smile. "Oh, sure. You're doing a fantastic job so far." He reached through the bars, his gloved hand brushing Louis' shoulder. "Don't move. You'll make it worse."

Louis stiffened at the contact but held his ground. "I don't need your help."

Harry arched an eyebrow, his voice dropping to a low drawl. "Sweetheart, you're trapped. Let's skip the tough act, yeah?"

The spikes groaned as they shifted closer, the faint grind of metal filling Louis' ears. He bit down on a curse, his breathing shallow as his fingers clenched around the bars.

"Relax," Harry said, reaching through the cage to rub Louis' arm. "You're fine."

"I don't feel fine," Louis snapped. "Just... get me out."

Harry's grin widened faintly. "See? That wasn't so hard."

Louis glanced at the spikes and then back to Harry, his pride wearing thin. "Help me."

"Gladly," Harry said with a smirk, though his focus remained on the mechanism. He knelt beside the cage, his fingers tracing the edges of the spikes as he examined the setup.

"It's primitive," he muttered, his green eyes narrowing as he followed the lines of the machinery. He crouched beside the base of the cage, his fingers tracing the grooves of the metal. "Pressure-triggered, rudimentary...for an architect, he has the creativity of a brick," he muttered.

"Can we save the critique for later?" Louis snapped, wincing as the clamp shifted against his leg.

Harry's eyes flickered briefly to the blood soaking into Louis' suit. "Don't be so impatient," he chided, his voice almost teasing as he tilted his head, inspecting the area where the spike had grazed Louis' thigh. His gloved fingers hovered over the torn fabric, brushing lightly against Louis' skin as he checked the wound.

Louis flinched. "What are you doing?"

"Making sure you're not bleeding out," Harry said flatly, his tone devoid of its usual sarcasm.

Louis swallowed. "I'm fine," he lied. "Just get me out."

"Don't lie to me," Harry countered, his gaze not lifting from the mechanism. "Where does it hurt?"

Louis hesitated, then gestured vaguely to his thigh. "It's not that bad."

The Joker sighed. "Always have to make things harder for yourself, don't you?"

"You're one to talk," Louis bit back, his voice weaker now.

Harry returned to the mechanism. "Let's see what else this thing has in store."

He worked quickly, his fingers deftly manoeuvring the panels and wires. The grinding of metal began again, but this time it slowed, the cage creaking as the spikes retracted inch by inch.

"Almost there," Harry said, glancing up briefly to meet Louis' gaze.

"You sure?" Louis asked, trying to mask the edge of nervousness in his voice.

"Would you rather I leave you here?" Harry shot back with a grin, though there was an edge of something softer in his tone.

With a final click, the cage shuddered, the clamp released with a sharp hiss and the spikes began to retract. Harry stood, moving quickly to Louis' side as he stumbled forward, his leg buckling slightly.

"Steady, darling," Harry murmured, catching Louis before he hit the ground. His grip was firm but clinical.

Louis swallowed, using Harry's arms to steady himself, his finger curling around The Joker's biceps before he found his footing and pulled away.

"There," Harry said, his smirk returning. "Safe and sound. You're welcome, by the way."

Louis straightened, brushing himself off. "Took you long enough."

Harry chuckled, stepping back and letting his hands fall to his sides. "Next time, stay behind me. I don't enjoy cleaning up your messes."

Louis glared at him but didn't reply, his leg still aching as he followed Harry toward the exit.

Harry arched an eyebrow as he saw the scowl on Louis' face. "Remind me to leave you next time."

"Please do," Louis muttered, trying to keep up. His leg gave way slightly, the sharp sting in his thigh pulling a hiss from his lips.

Harry's hand shot out, steadying him again. His grin faltered as his gaze flicked downward, catching sight of the blood seeping through Louis' suit. "Hold still."

"I'm fine—" Louis started, but Harry cut him off with a sharp look.

"Don't move," Harry said sharply, his voice cutting through Louis' weak protests. "Let me see it."

"I said I'm fine—" he started, but when he took a step forward, his leg buckled.

Harry's caught him again, hands firmly on Louis' waist. His touch lingered for longer than necessary, holding Louis tight in his grip.

"Shut up and hold still," Harry snapped, his tone brooking no argument this time. "You're bleeding and I'm not in the mood for heroics."

Louis hesitated, his pride warring with the throbbing pain in his thigh. "It's nothing," he muttered, avoiding Harry's gaze. He held still nonetheless, not pulling away from Harry.

"Your definition of 'nothing' is bleeding out all over my boots," Harry snapped, crouching down before Louis could argue further.

"Hey!" Louis protested weakly as Harry's gloved fingers ghosted over the torn fabric of his suit. "You don't need to—"

"Stop squirming," Harry ordered, pulling a small blade from his pocket. "This'll be quicker if you don't fight me."

Louis clenched his jaw, holding still as Harry carefully slit the fabric along his thigh to reveal the shallow gash running across his skin. The wound wasn't deep, but blood trickled steadily from it, staining the edge of his suit.

Harry clicked his tongue, inspecting the injury with a critical eye. "Amateur," he muttered under his breath. "All this effort to trap you and this is the best he can do? A glorified scratch?"

"It doesn't feel like a scratch," Louis muttered, trying to pull his leg back.

Harry's hand pressed against the inside of his thigh, keeping him in place. "I didn't say you could move," he said, his voice low but sharp. "Stay still."

Louis froze, his breath hitching as Harry's fingers moved with surprising precision. Harry tore a strip of fabric from the hem of his own shirt, wrapping it tightly around the wound.

Louis winced, hands going to Harry's shoulders to steady himself. "Does it have to be that tight?" Louis asked through gritted teeth.

"Yes," Harry replied, his tone flat. "Unless you'd prefer to bleed out and prove me right about you being useless."

Louis glared down at him, biting back a retort as Harry tied off the makeshift bandage. "You're enjoying this," he muttered.

Harry glanced up at Louis and their eyes met for a second.

"Not as much as you think," Harry shot back quietly. Louis removed his hands from The Joker's shoulders and Harry rose to his feet. "You owe me, sweetheart."

"For what? Saving your own skin?"

Harry smirked, brushing off his hands. "If I were saving my own skin, I'd have let you rot in that trap. But lucky for you, I like keeping my toys intact."

Louis bristled, his face flushing as he took a tentative step forward. The bandage held; the pain lingered.

"Let's go," he said shortly, brushing past Harry toward the exit.

Harry fell into step beside him, his grin widening as he watched Louis limp slightly. "Careful, sweetheart," he teased. "You're no good to me if you can't keep up."

Louis huffed, his pride stung more than his leg. "I can keep up."

Harry chuckled. "Good," he said. "Because if you can't, I'll have to carry you out of here myself. Over my shoulder."

Louis glared, forcing himself to walk quickly despite the ache in his thigh. "You wouldn't dare."

"Careful, sweetheart," Harry said, offering him a lazy grin. "I just might."

Louis didn't reply, his jaw tightening as they left the warehouse behind.

***

The apartment was unusually quiet, save for the faint hum of the city below. Louis sat at the small table near the window, leaning forward with a focused intensity. The notepad in front of him was covered in scattered sketches, half-drawn ideas, and faintly smudged lines. His pencil scratched against the paper in quick, purposeful strokes.

Harry lounged on the couch nearby, a glass of whiskey balanced in one hand, his green eyes fixed on Louis. There was something about the younger man's concentration that caught Harry's attention. It wasn't often Louis allowed himself to get lost in thought like this. Harry's gaze lingered on him, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

After a while, Harry broke the silence. "You gonna fill me in, or is this some secret art project you've got going on?"

Louis didn't look up, his focus on the sketch. "Just give me a minute."

"Oh, please," Harry replied. "Carry on sketching, Picasso," he said. "Seems like you've got a secret talent," his words were teasing but he looked impressed as he eyed Louis' drawing. "You looking for a career change?"

Louis rolled his eyes. "Shut up, I'm thinking."

Harry tilted his head, watching him with a mix of amusement and fascination. "You've been at this all night. How's the leg?"

Louis glanced at him briefly, his lips twitching in irritation. "Fine."

"Really? Because last time I checked, you were bleeding all over my boots."

"I said I'm fine." Louis' voice had an edge, but his focus didn't waver.

Harry leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "You're not seriously still hung up on that warehouse?" he asked. "We checked. It's empty. Hale's gone. He's probably halfway to the next city by now."

Louis tilted his head as he looked over the sketch, his pencil frozen in his hand. "It's not empty," he muttered.

"What do you mean?" Harry leaned forward, his grin fading as his eyes scanned the sketch. "We've just been there, it was a dead end."

"These are blueprints," Louis replied, pushing the paper across the table so Harry could get a better look. "I saw these patterns on the floor before I got trapped."

Harry raised an eyebrow, setting his drink aside as he leaned forward to take the notepad. His expression shifted from amused to intrigued as he studied the page. The markings were a mix of overlapping shapes and detailed symbols, arranged in a deliberate pattern.

"Blueprints of what?" Harry asked, his eyes still on the drawing.

Louis scoffed. "Don't you see it?" he mumbled, leaning forward to point out the lines of the sketch. "It's a map."

Harry chuckled, leaning back on the couch. "A map to what? His secret treasure chest? A villain lair?"

Louis shot him a look. "A hidden room," he tapped the notepad, pointing to a section of the sketch. "Look here—this part of the building doesn't line up. It's too big to be empty space."

Harry's smirk faltered, his interest piqued. "You think he's stashing something there?"

"I think he's there," Louis corrected.

Harry huffed out a laugh, looking up at Louis. "What? In a cupboard?"

Louis pulled a face. "No, in a concealed room, genius. It's built into the structure—it's right there," he tapped the notepad again, more insistent this time. "This is like a map for people who are invited so they know where to go."

"A hidden room," Harry murmured, his smirk softening into something more thoughtful. He glanced at Louis. "And you figured this out all on your own? Smart boy."

Louis took back his sketchbook and stood. "We need to go back."

Harry chuckled, standing and stretching lazily. "We? No, no, sweetheart. I'll go. You can sit this one out."

Louis tensed. "What?"

"You're still limping," Harry said, his tone too casual. He stepped around the table and moved toward Louis, towering over him. "You're not tagging along to slow me down."

Louis shot him a glare. "I'm fine."

Harry snorted. "Yeah?" he pushed Louis gently back into the chair. Louis winced as he landed, glaring up at Harry. "See? You're still hurt." Harry said smugly, holding his hand out to pull Louis back up.

"It doesn't hurt," Louis snapped, brushing Harry's hand away and rising to his feet.

Harry blocked his path with an easy grin. "Sure it doesn't. Come on, Robin. Be smart. Let me handle this one."

Louis glared at him, stepping around the blockade. "I'm going. But by all means, you can sit this one out."

The sharpness in his tone wiped the grin off Harry's face. For a moment, the two stood facing each other, tension crackling in the air. Then Harry exhaled, a low laugh slipping past his lips.

"Fine," Harry said, his voice laced with reluctant amusement. "But if you get stuck in another trap, I'm leaving you there."

"Sure you will," Louis muttered, already heading to the door.

***

Back at the warehouse, Louis and Harry moved in silence. The building was even darker than before, the air thick with dust and the faint smell of Louis' lingering blood. Louis led the way, looking for any signs of movement.

"Careful," Harry murmured, his voice low. "Wouldn't want you stepping into another trap."

Louis didn't dignify that with a response, his attention on the markings etched into the floor. They followed a faint trail toward the back of the warehouse, leading to a section of wall that seemed ordinary at first glance.

"Here," Louis said, crouching to inspect the base of the wall. His fingers brushed over a seam in the metal, faint but deliberate.

Harry knelt beside him, watching with curiosity. "A secret door? How cliché."

"It's practical," Louis replied, finding a concealed panel and prying it open. Inside was a keypad, its buttons faintly glowing.

Harry grinned. "Let me guess—you know the code?"

Louis shook his head. "No. But I know Hale. He's predictable, the code will be tied to something personal."

He pressed a few buttons experimentally—dates, initials, combinations—and the keypad let out a soft beep before the wall slid open with a hiss. Inside was a fortified vault room, lined with shelves of weapon crates and stolen tech.

Louis let out a low breath. "Bingo."

Harry whistled softly, stepping inside and tapping one of the crates with his gloved hand. "Well, well. Looks like Victor's been busy."

Louis scanned the room, his eyes narrowing. "This isn't just for selling. He's stocking up for something. These are all from the armoury."

Harry's grin widened. "An architect with ambition. I like him already."

"Stay focused," Louis snapped. "We need to find him before he moves this stuff."

As if on cue, the sound of footsteps echoed from behind them. Both men turned, and there stood Victor Hale. Hale's sharp eyes flicked over the scene, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Well, well," Hale said, his voice smooth. "Look who's come to visit. The prodigal son and his clown sidekick."

Harry chuckled, stepping forward with his hands in his pockets. "Flattering, really, but I'm nobody's sidekick."

"Victor," Louis said, his voice steady. "You're done. Come willingly or we'll make this messy."

"Didn't expect visitors tonight," Hale drawled, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the two intruders. "But I guess you're not just here for a chat."

Harry chuckled softly, leaning against the wall. "Oh, sweetheart, you really don't see it, do you? You're cornered. Outgunned. Outnumbered," he gestured between himself and Louis. "And frankly, outclassed."

Louis stepped forward, his hands raised slightly. "It's over, Hale. You've got nowhere to run."

Hale laughed, low and bitter. "Run? Why would I run? I've got everything I need right here." he motioned with his hand and two burly men stepped out from around the corner. "You think you're in a position to make demands? Boys, show them out."

The henchmen raised their weapons, but Harry moved first, a blade flashing in his hand as he disarmed one with a fluid motion. Louis took the opportunity to leap into action, tackling the second man with precision. Within moments, the two henchmen were unconscious on the floor.

Hale took a step back, his confidence faltering. "Wait—"

Harry was on him in an instant, pinning him against the wall with a manic grin. "Go on, sweetheart. Beg. I love it when they beg."

"Hey," Louis warned, his voice sharp. "We're not killing him."

Harry didn't look back, his grin widening as he leaned closer to Victor. "Why not? He's been a very bad boy. Look at all these toys he stole," he tutted. "Someone has to teach him a lesson."

Louis crossed his arms, his tone firm. "We're leaving him for the cops."

Harry finally turned his gaze to Louis, his expression somewhere between amused and exasperated. "Oh, come on, Robin. Where's the fun in that? One little bullet and he's out of everyone's hair."

Louis' glare hardened. "No."

Harry's grin didn't falter. "Spoilsport," he drawled, turning his attention back to Victor. "You hear that, genius? Pretty boy here wants to play nice. Lucky you."

Victor swallowed hard, his bravado slipping. "Look, I—I can make a deal. You don't have to—"

Harry cut him off with a laugh, stepping back slightly but keeping Victor pinned with his stare. "A deal? Cute. You're not in a position to negotiate, darling."

"Joker," Louis said, his voice taking on an edge. "Back off."

Harry glanced back, his grin fading into a smirk. "Fine. We'll do it your way, Robin. But shooting him would be so much more fun."

Louis rolled his eyes, pulling a pair of handcuffs from his belt and securing Hale's wrists. "You're lucky I don't let him decide."

Hale glared at Louis but said nothing, his jaw tight.

Harry stepped back, watching with amusement as Louis secured the scene. "You know," he drawled, "you're no fun when you play by the rules."

"And you're no help when you don't," Louis shot back, dragging Hale toward the exit.

As they stepped outside, the sound of approaching sirens filled the air. Harry leaned against the wall, watching Louis with a lazy grin.

"You really are predictable," Harry teased. "Leaving him for the cops? How boring."

Louis didn't respond; his focus was on the task at hand. Harry retreated into the shadows watching as Louis handed Victor over to the authorities. The police thanked Louis, gathered the two henchmen from the building and left.

"Letting him walk away like this? Where's your sense of justice?"

Louis turned to face Harry. "This is justice," he shot back. "Letting the system handle him."

Harry laughed, low and amused. "The system? Oh, Robin, you're adorable."

Louis rolled his eyes. "Shut up."

"Well," Harry began, his green eyes glinting with amusement. "I hope this makes you sleep better at night, Robin. But don't get used to it."

Louis shot him a glare. "Get in the car."

Harry pushed off the wall, his smirk widening. "As you wish, Robin."

But as they climbed into the car and pulled away from the warehouse, Harry's voice broke the silence again.

"You know," he said, his tone light but with a hint of something darker, "we make a damn good team."

Louis didn't respond, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. But as the city lights blurred past, he couldn't shake the weight of Harry's words—or the faint smile that lingered on Harry's lips.

Chapter Text

21: Tactics of a Tyrant

-----

Louis stood at the kitchen counter, his shoulders hunched as he leaned over the list of names spread out in front of him. He ran a hand through his hair, frustration etched into his face as he traced the lines of notes and scribbles.

Behind him, the soft creak of floorboards signalled Harry's arrival. Louis didn't turn around. He could feel Harry's presence before he heard his voice.

"Roman Havelock," Harry said, his tone light, teasing. "The doctor with all the dirty little secrets. What do you know about him?"

Louis stiffened slightly but didn't look up. "What's it to you?" he replied, his voice clipped. He hated the way Harry's presence seemed to fill the room.

"It's my list, remember?" Harry said, stepping closer. "I like to know who I'm dealing with," Harry's lips curved into a smirk as he moved behind Louis, leaning over him just enough to make the younger man bristle.

Louis sighed. "You already know who he is."

Harry chuckled softly, hands settling on the counter either side of Louis, pressing him in. His presence felt overpowering.  "I want to hear it from you, sweetheart. You've got the floor."

Louis focused on the list in front of him, trying to ignore the way Harry's presence loomed over him. "He's a black market doctor. He changes people's appearances entirely. Faces, fingerprints, you name it."

Harry leaned in even closer, his lips just a breath away from Louis' ear. "And he does this for... fun?" Harry's voice was low, tinged with curiosity, but still light, like he was enjoying making Louis uncomfortable.

Louis' breath hitched. "He does it for money. People pay him to give them new lives, new faces—usually after some crime. And sometimes, when he's feeling generous, he'll sell them new organs, too."

"That's one way to make a living," Harry kept himself pressed against Louis. "So why can't we just track him down then? If he's selling organs, he's got clients. He's got a network."

"He doesn't just mess with the appearance of his clients. He-"

Then, without warning, Harry's hands settled on Louis' shoulders.

Louis flinched at the contact, his head snapping up. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

Harry's grip didn't loosen. Instead, his fingers pressed lightly into the tense muscles of Louis' shoulders, kneading softly. "Helping you relax," he said. "Anyone ever tell you you're real tight?"

Louis shifted uncomfortably under Harry's touch, his ears burning. "I don't need your help," he muttered, his voice unsteady.

Harry leaned closer, his breath brushing against Louis' ear. "Oh, but you do," he murmured, his fingers trailing up to the base of Louis' neck. "This," he pressed gently, "is stress. And this," his hands moved back to Louis' shoulders, pressing softly, "is me being helpful."

Louis swallowed hard, trying to focus on anything other than the warmth of Harry's hands or the way his voice sent a shiver down his spine.

"Tell me more about Havelock," Harry muttered casually.

"Get off," Louis huffed, but the words came out weaker than he intended.

Harry chuckled, the sound low and amused. "Make up your mind, sweetheart. You want me to stop, or is this working?"

"It's not working," Louis snapped, finally twisting out of Harry's grasp.

He turned to face him, his cheeks flushed with irritation. Harry still kept him caged against the counter, looking down at him with an amused smile.

Eventually, Harry raised his hands in mock surrender, his smirk firmly in place. "Fine," he drawled. "Have it your way. Back to brooding at the counter it is," he took a step back.

Louis exhaled sharply, turning back to the list. "That's all I know about him," he said reluctantly. "When he's not swapping livers, he's changing people's faces, erasing their identities."

Harry arched an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "A surgeon who doubles as a magician. Neat trick."

Louis scoffed, shaking his head. "It's not a trick. It's a business. He makes killers disappear, gives them new lives."

"Efficient," Harry mused. "So why hasn't anyone put him down for good?"

Louis hesitated, his fingers tightening around the paper. "Someone did. Once."

Harry tilted his head. "Batman?"

Louis stiffened again. "Yeah."

Harry's grin widened, his tone turning almost taunting. "Should I grab you a Bat-phone, sweetheart? Call in the cavalry?"

Louis scowled, glancing over his shoulder. "If only I had Batman's number," he bit out sarcastically. "We might actually get something done."

Harry laughed, stepping closer again. "Don't get pouty, Robin. We don't need him. Just you and me, right?" he tilted his head again, his eyes glinting. "Besides, doesn't it feel better doing it yourself?"

"It's not about how it feels," Louis muttered, his voice tight. "It's about getting it done."

Harry's amusement only deepened. "And yet, here you are, wishing for a hero in a cape to swoop in and save the day."

Louis whipped around, his glare sharp. "You think this is funny?"

"I think you're funny," Harry replied easily. "All that anger bottled up inside you... it's hot."

Louis pushed away from the counter. "I'm not doing this with you."

Harry blocked his path, his tone softening but his eyes still glinting with mischief. "Come on, Robin. Don't run away just when we're making progress."

Louis crossed his arms, his voice sharp. "What progress? You think we're going to waltz into Havelock's clinic and find him sitting there with a scalpel in one hand and a face mask in the other?"

"Maybe not," Harry admitted with a shrug. "But it's a start."

Louis stared him down for a moment, his frustration warring with Harry's unnerving calmness. Finally, he let out a sharp breath, brushing past him toward the door.

"Fine," Louis said curtly. "Let's go."

Harry's grin widened as he followed. "See? That wasn't so hard."

***

Louis moved with purpose, his eyes scanning the shadows ahead.

"Remind me again why we're traipsing through this sewer?" Harry drawled, his voice light but tinged with his usual sardonic edge. "Roman's got a head start. We don't have time for sightseeing."

"It's not a sewer," Louis shot back, his tone clipped. "And it's this way."

Harry fell in step behind him, adjusting the collar of his jacket against the relentless rain. "You sure you don't need a map, Robin?" he teased.

Before Louis could retort, a scream cut through the storm—a sharp, desperate sound that sent a jolt through his chest. He froze, listening as another scream followed moments later, faint but clear.

"Oh, no," Harry said flatly from behind him. "Don't even think about it."

Louis' head whipped toward the direction of the sound.

Harry scoffed. "No way," he warned. His hair was slicked back from the rain and his eyes gleamed in the dim light. "Havelock's out there, probably two steps ahead, and you want to play good Samaritan?"

Louis didn't wait. He darted toward the scream, boots splashing through puddles

"Unbelievable," Harry muttered, trailing after him at a leisurely pace.

The scene in the alley was bleak. A woman was backed against a graffiti-stained wall, her purse clutched to her chest as two men closed in.

"Come on, doll, hand it over nice and easy," one of the men growled. A glint of metal in his hand caught the faint light—a knife, worn but deadly.

The other was rifling through her pockets, pulling out coins and scraps of paper with an impatient sneer.

"Help!" she gasped, her voice breaking with fear.

The man with the knife turned as Louis approached, his expression twisting into a scowl. "Turn around, kid," he growled, taking a step forward. "This ain't your business."

Louis didn't hesitate. His fist shot out, landing squarely against the man's jaw. The knife clattered to the ground as the man stumbled back, clutching his face with a curse.

The second man lunged, swinging a broken bottle. Louis ducked, his movements sharp and fluid. He grabbed the man's wrist, twisting it until the bottle dropped. A swift kick to the knee sent the mugger sprawling.

"Nice moves," Harry commented from the mouth of the alley, leaning casually against the wall. "Very heroic."

Louis ignored him, turning to face the first man, who was back on his feet and charging with a roar. Louis sidestepped the attack, slamming his elbow into the man's ribs before sweeping his legs out from under him. The man hit the ground with a grunt, rolling onto his side and clutching his stomach.

The woman trembled, her back still pressed to the wall. Louis approached her cautiously, keeping his voice low and steady. "It's okay," he said gently. "You're safe now."

Her wide eyes flitted between Louis and the crumpled men on the ground. "Th-thank you," she whispered, clutching her purse tighter.

Louis gave a small nod. "Go home. Be careful."

She hesitated but darted off as soon as he stepped aside.

Harry watched her leave, his smirk fading for a brief moment. He looked back at Louis, his expression unreadable. "Safe?" he echoed, his tone quieter now. "She's not safe. Not in this city. Never will be."

Louis turned to face him, his shoulders tense. "She's alive, isn't she?"

Harry's lips twitched into a cold smile. "For now. But Gotham doesn't let anyone walk away clean. You saved her tonight, but tomorrow?" he shrugged, the gesture careless. "Someone else will take what she's got. Or worse."

Louis stepped closer, his eyes flashing. "So what? I should've just let them hurt her? Done nothing?"

Harry tilted his head, his smirk widening. "You keep throwing yourself at this city like it's worth saving. Like the people in it are worth saving. Tell me, Robin," he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping, "what's so special about her? Or any of them?"

"She's innocent," Louis said firmly.

Harry laughed, the sound low and almost bitter. "Innocent? You think anyone in this city is innocent?" he gestured around them, at the graffiti, the trash, the darkness that swallowed every corner. "This place chews people up, makes them into something ugly. Even her."

Louis squared his shoulders, his voice unwavering. "That doesn't mean I get to stop trying. Doesn't mean I just get to give up."

For a moment, Harry said nothing, his gaze locked on Louis. The rain dripped from his hair, trailing down his face as his smirk faded. "You're exhausting, you know that?" he said finally.

"Good," Louis shot back. He turned and started down the alley, his footsteps splashing through the puddles. "Let's go."

Harry lingered for a moment, his green eyes narrowing as he watched Louis disappear into the rain.

Then he chuckled softly, shaking his head as he followed. "You'll see it one day," he murmured, his voice almost lost to the rain.

***

The docks were eerily quiet, the scent of saltwater and oil thick in the air. Louis and Harry moved silently, their footsteps muffled against the damp ground. The abandoned clinic stood ahead, its broken windows casting jagged shadows across the ground.

"This the place?" Harry murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Louis nodded, his gaze scanning the building. "It was. Let's move."

Inside, the clinic was a mess of overturned furniture and scattered medical supplies. Louis' stomach turned at the sight of bloodstained bandages and broken syringes littering the floor.

"Looks like we missed the party," Harry remarked, kicking a toppled chair aside. "Shame. I was hoping to meet our good doctor."

Louis moved to a desk in the corner, sifting through the papers left behind.

"What're we hoping to find, Robin?" Harry's tone was casual, but there was a curious edge to it. "A signed confession? Maybe a handy map with a big red X?"

Louis ignored him, focusing on a clipboard wedged under a stack of old files. The pages were smeared, but there was enough left to piece together.

"Havelock wasn't here long," Louis said quietly. "He packed up. Took what he needed and left."

Most of the papers were useless—prescriptions, supply lists—but one caught his eye. A list of names and addresses, most of them crossed out.

Harry wandered over to a metal cabinet, yanking it open with a sharp tug. It was empty except for a pile of medical gloves and some stained rags. "Efficient, I'll give him that. Almost like he doesn't want to be found."

"Havelock's patients," Louis muttered, his fingers tracing the page. "These are criminals he's been treating."

Harry looked over his shoulder, peering at the paper. "Anyone we know?"

Louis shook his head. "He's taken everything useful," he muttered. "He's gone."

Harry leaned against the desk, watching Louis with lazy interest. "Well maybe if you didn't go off playing hero," he teased. "Didn't Batman bag this guy once? How'd he catch him?"

Louis stiffened but didn't look up. "I don't want to talk about it."

Harry smirked, sensing the tension. He stepped closer, his fingers brushing a discarded vial on the table. "Oh, come on, Robin. Don't tell me you're too proud to share war stories."

Louis ignored him, continuing to shuffle through old tatters of paper, notes, and receipts. He paused, reading one receipt in particular.

Harry played with some of the equipment on the tables. "The trail's cold, then? Guess it's time to move on."

Louis hesitated, eyes still scanning the receipt. "This is for a butcher's shop in the Narrows."

Harry took the receipt, his eyes scanning it. "A butcher's shop," he said, raising an eyebrow. "Havelock's buying meat now?"

"No, he's selling meat," Louis corrected.

Harry laughed. "Guess he's downgraded his business. What's next? Vegetables?" he handed the receipt back to Louis.

"You don't get it. It's brilliant," Louis replied, his voice edged with reluctant admiration. "Nobody questions a butcher shop. Blood, bodies, strange deliveries—it's all part of the image. Perfect disguise."

"You think he's selling... human meat?" Harry asked, head tilted as he looked at Louis.

Louis nodded. "That's exactly what I think."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Harry asked, his smirk sharp. "Let's go meat shopping."

Louis was already leading the way.

***

The rain had slowed to a fine mist by the time Louis turned down the dimly lit street. Gotham's grime clung to every surface—the wet asphalt glistening under flickering streetlights, the faint hum of the city rising and falling in the distance. It was quieter here, the sound of his footsteps muffled by the haze.

Harry was perched somewhere above, watching from the rooftops. "Smells like a place that sells crime by the pound," his voice came through Louis' earpiece.

Louis ignored him, glancing at the butcher's faded sign just barely visible a block ahead. His eyes scanned the street, the boarded-up windows, the shadows shifting in alleys.

"Come on, are you scared?"

Louis bit back the frustration, sticking to the shadows as he made his way to the right street. "Shut up."

As he approached the alleyway, he caught sight of someone familiar—someone who shouldn't have been there.

Jenson Marks.

The last time Louis had seen him, they'd exchanged flirtatious words at a bar. A quick escape from the chaos of Gotham, a game between two people who weren't supposed to be looking for anything serious. Yet now, here he was, walking with purpose, his eyes scanning the street.

Louis moved forward, staying hidden in the shadows as he stepped closer to Jenson.

"Wrong way, Robin," Harry scolded through his earpiece "Where are you off to? Don't leave me hanging. It's so boring up here.".

Louis didn't know why he was following Jenson—maybe it was the lingering curiosity, maybe something else. Either way, he couldn't ignore it. He had to see what he was doing here.

As he rounded the corner, Jenson turned around and spotted him instantly. He stopped in his tracks, his lips curling into a half-smile. "Luke?"

Harry's voice cut in sharply, catching Louis off guard. "Oh," he chuckled. "What's this, then? Found your little friend again?"

Louis swallowed, blinking back at him. "Hi."

Jenson smiled at Louis, stepping closer. "So you finally found me, huh?"

"I thought you'd be gone by now," Louis replied, smiling back as he closed the distance.

"Come on, Robin. Focus. You're supposed to be tracking Roman, not chatting up criminals. Your boyfriend can wait." The words dripped with sarcasm, though there was an edge to them that was hard to ignore.

Jenson nodded. "This place has its pull," he muttered. "I'm leaving tonight," he added. "Chicago."

"Chicago?" Louis repeated.

"You been before?" Jenson asked and Louis shook his head. "Got some friends down there who can help me with a fresh start."

"Skeletons?" Louis asked and Jenson huffed out a laugh.

"Skeletons," he repeated. "Told you I don't do bedtime stories, didn't I?"

Louis felt flustered when Jenson smiled at him again. "So you're really leaving, huh?"

"Now or never," Jenson replied. "Glad I bumped into you first, though."

Louis tilted his head. "Why's that?" There was something in the way Jenson looked at him, something teasing, something raw, but Louis could barely keep his thoughts straight.

Before Jenson could respond, Harry's voice came through Louis' earpiece, this time louder and more mocking. "Oh, look at you two, playing 'civilians.' Getting all cosy, are we? Cute."

Jenson's smile deepened. "Because, if it's the last time we're seeing each other, might as well make it count."

Louis let out a sharp breath as Jenson reached out to touch his face, his fingers cupping Louis' cheek. It felt strange, this moment. The chemistry, the pull, but also the sense that something was slipping through his fingers.

Louis closed his eyes but just as they leaned in, the air shifted.

"Didn't Batman teach you any better?"

Louis' eyes snapped open and he pulled away from Jenson abruptly. His stomach twisted and his body stiffened at Harry's words.

Harry stood a few feet away in the alley, eyes blazing with a dangerous rage.

"What are you doing here?" Louis muttered under his breath, but his voice carried.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Harry continued, his voice dripping with mock sweetness as he sauntered closer. "Did I interrupt something?" the words were followed by a soft laugh, one that made Louis' jaw tighten in frustration. "You're seriously letting him go? Just like that? Aren't you supposed to catch the bad guys?"

Jenson took a step back at the sight of Harry, his eyes going wary. "You with him?" he asked, voice tinged with confusion as he glanced at Louis.

Louis' chest tightened and he shook his head. "No! This isn't what you think."

Harry grinned. "I own him," he corrected, eyes on Jenson. "Your little boyfriend and I made a deal."

Jenson took another step back, clearly recognising the danger in Harry's presence. He raised his hands, a half-smile still on his lips. "I'm not looking for trouble, mate. I'm just trying to get out of here."

Louis' eyes flickered to Jenson, then to Harry. The tension in the air thickened, something dark and heavy hanging between them. Louis stepped between them.

"Leave," he told Harry firmly.

"What's worth saving, Louis?" Harry continued, his voice suddenly quiet, taunting. "Do you think he's worth saving? For one night of fun? You really think this guy deserves another shot?"

Louis didn't have time to answer before Harry was moving past him, pushing Jenson against the wall with a sudden and brutal force. His hand grabbed Jenson's collar, and Louis felt the air crackle with violence.

"You think you can just waltz around here? You think we don't know who you are?" Harry's voice dropped to a low, lethal growl. "You're not leaving Gotham. Not tonight."

Louis felt a rush of panic, instinctively stepping forward, his hand reaching out to stop Harry. "No, don't—" Louis grabbed Harry's shoulder but he was shoved away. "Stop it!"

Harry's gaze flicked to Louis, his expression suddenly hard. "You want to stop me?" he leaned closer to Jenson, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he kept his gaze fixed on Louis. "I'm sorry, did you want to be the hero? Because that's not how this works. You don't get to play nice, sweetheart."

Jenson's eyes went wide, confusion and panic mixing. "What the hell, man? I'm done. I'm leaving. I'm done with Gotham!" his voice cracked. "I don't want any trouble!"

"You should've thought of that sooner," Harry sneered, tightening his grip on Jenson's collar. "This city doesn't forget."

Louis' heart pounded in his chest. "Don't—"

"Shut up, Robin," Harry cut him off. "You had your chance to stop him, but you couldn't resist. Couldn't resist letting him go."

Jenson gritted his teeth, trying to twist away from Harry. "I'm leaving," he insisted. "Let me go, I'm done causing trouble. I swear!"

Louis went to lunge at Harry but Harry pulled a gun and pressed it to Jenson's throat.

"No!" Louis exclaimed. "Don't do this," he pleaded, eyes wide. "Don't- not like this."

Harry just grinned at him. "Begging for your boyfriend, sweetheart? That's cute," he said. "Bet you wish you'd kissed him now."

Louis swallowed, shaking his head wildly. "Let him go," he stepped closer and Harry pressed the gun tighter against Jenson's throat. "Harry, please."

Harry softened, just for a moment as he looked at Louis, his head tilting as he eyed him. Then Louis' eyes flickered to glance at Jenson, still struggling in Harry's grip and The Joker's face hardened again, his eyes going cold.

"Sorry, sweetheart," Harry said. "But I told you, I'm not playing by your rules."

The sound of the gun ringing out reverberated through Louis' chest. Jenson's body went limp, blood beginning to seep from the wound.

"No!" Louis choked out, lunging forward.

Harry was already stepping away, letting Jenson's body drop to the floor in a limp heap. Louis' hands went to the wound on his neck, pressing firmly. The blood poured through his fingers, warm and sticky as it oozed from the wound.

"Bit late for that," Harry commented nonchalantly.

Louis shook his head, fingers trembling. "No no no," he muttered, eyes welling up with tears.

Harry leaned against the wall, watching Louis with a raised brow. "Shame about Chicago," he tutted. "I heard the flights are expensive."

Louis looked up at Harry, eyes wild with fury. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he strained, voice tight. "Why would you-" he could hardly manage the words.

Blood soaked the pavement beneath him, spreading like a dark stain across the alleyway. Louis' hands trembled as he let go of Jenson. Blood trickled down his wrists as he stood up, eyes still on Jenson's lifeless body.

Harry was watching him, cool and collected. "I did you a favour, Robin. You shouldn't have let him walk free in the first place."

Louis' eyes burned with anger, but it wasn't just anger—it was betrayal. Betrayal by someone he thought he could trust if only a little.

"You killed him. You didn't even give him a chance!" Louis was shouting now, voice cracking.

"Oh, come on, sweetheart," Harry mocked, stepping closer. "Don't tell me you're upset about him. You think someone like that was worth your time? Worth saving? He was a criminal. A liar, a thief. What exactly were you trying to save? Your broken little heart?"

"Fuck you!" Louis spat.

"Don't pout, sweetheart," Harry teased.

Louis shook his head, suddenly backing away from Harry. "You're sick."

Harry watched him curiously, stepping closer when Louis stepped away. "Oh, come on," he replied. "You want a criminal to play hero with? You have me."

"Get away from me," Louis hissed, moving away when Harry came closer.

The Joker's expression changed, brows furrowing as Louis increased the distance between them. "Come here, Robin."

Louis swallowed, taking another step back. "No."

"No?" Harry mused, lips twitching for a moment before Louis took another step backwards and Harry's eyes narrowed. "And where do you think you're going?"

Louis scowled at him. "You're mistaken if you think I'm going anywhere with you," he spat.

"Robin," Harry warned.

Louis turned suddenly, making a sprint down the alleyway and bolting away from Harry as fast as he could. He turned a corner, racing through the dark streets of Gotham.

Harry's footsteps sounded after him, quick and heavy as his boots hit the wet concrete.

"Robin!" Harry roared as Louis stole away "Don't make me chase you, sweetheart," he shouted after Louis. "You know that I'll catch you."

Louis didn't stop. His legs burned with effort, but he pushed himself harder, faster, trying to outrun the chaos in his chest. He was mad—at Harry, at himself, at Gotham—but mostly, he was mad at the way this was all spinning out of control.

As he rounded a corner, his breath coming in ragged gasps, Louis felt a familiar presence behind him, closing the distance. Harry's laughter followed him, cutting through the night air, an all-too-familiar sound.

Louis didn't look back, but he could feel Harry's eyes on him as he bolted again. He didn't want to know what Harry would do if he caught him. He forced himself to keep a punishing pace, sprinting into the distance.

Harry's footsteps faded behind him as Louis entered a familiar part of town. He looked around, finally slowing down as he crossed a road he knew all too well.

He was going home.

Chapter Text

22: Laws of a Lunatic

-----

The apartment door clicked shut behind Louis, the soft sound almost deafening in the silence. He stood there for a moment, motionless, his chest rising and falling with shaky breaths. The light overhead seemed too harsh, glaring against the blood that smeared his trembling hands and stained the edges of his sleeves.

He noticed movement from the corner of his view, but he was too focused on the blood on his hands, dark red against his golden skin.

Liam's voice broke through the haze. "Louis?" his footsteps came quickly, the worry in his tone sharp and clear. "What the hell happened?"

Louis didn't respond. His eyes were unfocused, fixed somewhere on the floor, as though staring at the blood clinging to his hands. His lips parted slightly, but no sound came.

Liam approached carefully, his face etched with concern. "Are you hurt?" he asked softly, glancing quickly over Louis' body for signs of injury. "Did he hurt you?" his hands were cradling Louis' face, his fingers pressing against soft skin.

Louis opened his mouth to speak but stopped himself, his throat tightening. Without thinking, he fell into Liam's arms, his forehead resting on Liam's shoulder as he clung to him for support. He didn't want to explain. Didn't want to relive the scene from outside. Didn't want to think about the life that had ended so abruptly in front of him.

Liam didn't push him. He just stood there, his arms gently enveloping Louis, letting him take what comfort he could from the moment. Liam rubbed Louis' back in slow, soothing circles. "Did he hurt you?"

Louis swallowed, his throat burning. He shook his head slightly but couldn't find the strength to speak again. He wanted to get the words out, wanted to explain how everything had unfolded, but it felt impossible. He gripped Liam tighter. 

"No..." he felt suffocated by everything he'd seen.

Liam squeezed him for a moment before pulling back, looking at him with a searching expression before his gaze flickered back to the blood. "Then what? Louis?"

Finally, Louis stepped back, shaking his head as his hands trembled. "There's... there's a body. A man," his voice cracked, and it made him flinch. He wiped a hand down his face, swallowing. "Near the Narrow. He... he killed him."

"Killed who?" Liam asked, but there was no urgency. He was giving Louis space, but the concern in his eyes was obvious.

"I—" Louis shook his head. "I don't know," his voice hitched, and his shoulders drooped as though he couldn't physically hold himself upright.

Liam wasn't convinced. "Who was it?" he asked again, this time his tone firm but still careful.

Louis' hand reached out, using the wall to steady himself. "I can't," he said hoarsely. "It's my fault I- I wasn't good enough."

Liam softened. "You're in shock. Sit down."

Louis slumped to the floor, sliding down the wall and staring into space. His chest was tight, every inch of him burned with tension, and the images of the alley flashed in his mind. The rain. The fear. The blood. The cold look on Harry's face.

Liam pulled his phone from his pocket, his voice steady as he dialled. "There's a body near the Narrow," he said into the receiver. "Send someone. An alley I assume. No, I don't know who yet. Just go." He hung up quickly. "The police are on their way," Liam said gently. "They'll handle it."

"I don't want to talk about it," Louis muttered. His voice was barely audible, as though the words were an effort to speak.

Liam gently sat down beside him, not trying to rush him or press for more answers. He simply sat, his hand resting on Louis' knee. "Okay."

They sat in silence, just the sound of the storm outside filling the space. The minutes stretched on; Liam disappeared just long enough to bring back a steaming mug of tea. He handed it to Louis and for a long moment neither of them spoke. Louis stared at the hot drink, the warmth rising against his cold fingers.

Liam watched him closely, his expression soft. "Whatever happened... it's not your fault," he said softly, trying to break through the numbness that surrounded Louis. "None of it."

Louis' eyes flicked up to Liam, something like gratitude lingering beneath his exhaustion. He didn't speak at first, just sipping the tea slowly, letting the warmth fill him—comforting, for now, but not enough to erase the weight of what he had just witnessed.

"Maybe it is," Louis finally murmured, his voice faint. "Maybe if I'd done something different..."

"No," Liam's voice was firmer this time. "Whatever he did is not on you."

Louis took another sip, nodding once, though his mind was elsewhere—far away from the safety of the apartment, the quiet understanding of Liam beside him. In his head, the moment played over and over again—the sound of a life ending, and the cold indifference in Harry's eyes.

He let out a shaky breath, still gripping the mug between his hands as if holding it might ground him.

"You know the worst part?" Louis murmured, his words coming in a ragged breath. "I have to go back," he blinked up at Liam. "I made a deal."

Liam didn't reply immediately, his brow furrowing as he processed what Louis had said. After a beat, he simply reached out, resting a hand on Louis' shoulder.

"We'll figure this out," Liam said quietly, his voice steady. "But you don't have to do anything tonight. Just stay here, alright? We'll deal with this in the morning."

Louis didn't respond, his eyes staring ahead, the weight of everything still pressing down on him. For now, though, he was here with Liam—alive, with someone who cared. The rest could wait.

For tonight, it had to.

***

The morning sunlight broke through the curtains, harsh and invasive against the quiet apartment. Louis sat on the edge of the couch, his shoulders hunched. Liam stood at the counter, arms crossed, his face tight with worry but free of judgment.

"You gonna tell me what happened?" Liam asked gently, though the tension in his voice was unmistakable.

Louis didn't respond at first. His gaze remained fixed on the cup of coffee in his hands, his fingers trembling slightly around the large mug. "It was bad, Liam," he muttered after a long silence. His voice was rough like it hurt to speak the words aloud.

Liam moved closer, kneeling to be at his brother's eye level. His presence was steady, a silent reassurance that he was here, that Louis wasn't alone.

"You can tell me," Liam said gently. "You don't have to but you can, alright? No matter what's going on."

Louis' throat tightened, and he exhaled sharply, fighting back the emotion that threatened to rise. "You're not mad?"

"Mad?" Liam's voice softened. "Never at you. I just need to know you're okay," he promised. "You said he didn't hurt you, but..?"

Louis shook his head quickly, his fingers tightening around the mug. "No, not... not me. He killed someone. Cold. Calculated. It didn't matter who it was, just..."

Liam's face darkened, but he held steady. "You saw it?"

"I couldn't stop him," Louis admitted, his voice breaking. "It was nothing to him. One second he was fine, and the next, he—" he stopped, the words catching in his throat.

"It wasn't your fault," Liam said firmly, placing a hand on Louis' shoulder.

Louis finally looked up at him, guilt and fear swimming in his red-rimmed eyes. "I think he did it to prove a point. Like, he did it to teach me a lesson," he swallowed. "I-I don't want to go back, Liam. I don't want to go back. "

Liam's grip on his shoulder tightened briefly, his jaw clenching. "Then don't," he said simply.

"You don't understand." Louis shook his head. "I made a deal. If I run, if I don't go back, he'll..."

Liam didn't need the words to finish the thought. "He won't get to you. I won't let him."

Louis swallowed hard, setting the mug down and pressing his hands together. He wasn't sure if he believed that, but just hearing it made his chest feel a little lighter.

After a moment, he leaned back, running a hand down his face. "He's got me tracking down some criminals that escaped the prison. We're taking care of a list of them. We were tracking Roman Havelock when it happened."

Liam frowned. "Havelock? The black-market surgeon?"

"Yeah. He wants him locked up again," Louis admitted. "And honestly, so do I."

Liam tilted his head. "Then let's get to him first."

"What?"

"Louis, you said it yourself. You don't want to go back there. Let's figure out where Havelock is, take him down- and the rest of the criminals. Then you're done. No Joker, no debt, no deal. You've done what he's asked of you."

"It's not that simple," Louis muttered.

"It can be," Liam countered. "Just you and me. We've done harder things together, haven't we?"

Louis met his brother's determined gaze, torn between the fear of failure and the possibility of escaping his nightmare. After a long pause, he nodded. "Alright," he said quietly. "Havelock had a clinic downtown. It's abandoned now, but I think he's still running shipments out of the industrial district, using a butcher's shop as a cover-up. Organs, faces, IDs—whatever makes him money."

"Good," Liam said, standing and grabbing his coat. "That's where we'll start."

"You make it sound easy," Louis muttered, rising to follow him. "Last time..."

"We're not scared of him," Liam said firmly, glancing back with a small smile. "And he should've stayed locked up the first time."

For the first time in hours, Louis' lips twitched upward, though it was faint and fleeting. "Let's go."

***

The stench hit Louis like a wall as they slipped into the darkened backroom of the butcher shop. The smell of blood—old and new—mixed with damp concrete and sour disinfectant. It made Louis' stomach churn but he pressed on, his sharp eyes scanning the cluttered space.

 Liam whispered, his voice low but still carrying an edge of disbelief. "Of course, it smells like a graveyard."

Louis didn't respond. His focus was on the strange setup before them—tables lined with surgical instruments, bloodied aprons tossed over the backs of chairs, and coolers humming faintly along the walls.

"He's still running his operation," Louis murmured, pointing to a rusted autoclave in the corner.

"So much for lying low," Liam muttered, pulling his cape tighter to avoid brushing against the grime-coated counters. His voice shifted into something colder. "Let's hope he's arrogant enough to still be here."

"He's here," Louis muttered, his breath catching in his throat. He could feel it—Roman was close, hidden in the darkness. "Stay alert," Louis murmured, stepping toward the room.

"You're preaching to the choir," Liam replied.

When Louis reached the next door, he peered inside carefully. The space was cramped and haphazardly arranged—a sterile operation crammed into chaos. A steel table dominated the centre of the room, with neatly arranged surgical tools glinting under a single overhead light. Bloodstained gloves were discarded in a corner, next to what looked like a makeshift storage freezer humming softly.

Liam stepped closer, his jaw tightening as he scanned the scene. "Same as last time," he muttered, his eyes narrowing.

Louis tensed as his gaze swept the room. "He's been here recently. Look at that—" He gestured to a scalpel sitting on a blood-spattered tray, the blade still shining as if freshly cleaned.

Liam gave a sharp nod, his voice calm and steady. "Stay close. Don't let him get the drop on you."

As if summoned by those very words, a figure lunged from the shadows. The glint of steel flashed in the faint light, a blade slashing toward Louis faster than he could process.

Louis stumbled back just in time to avoid being sliced, but Roman Havelock didn't miss a beat. He whirled on Liam, who blocked the attack with a sharp, practised motion. Havelock didn't stop, he crashed a chair into Liam who stumbled backwards. Louis barely had time to react before Havelock lunged at him, the glint of silver still in his hand.

Louis ducked the syringe by inches, the sharp hiss of the needle punctuating the tense air. Roman struck again, his speed uncanny as he drove Louis back toward the wall.

Louis twisted away from the wall, his fist connecting with Roman's ribs in a clean, hard strike. Roman grunted but held his ground, his free hand grappling at Louis' arm. The syringe flicked dangerously in his grasp, narrowly missing Louis' side.

Liam surged forward, his cape flaring as he shoved Roman off Louis with brutal force. Roman staggered but recovered quickly, ducking under Liam's sweeping punch and moving with the calculated precision of a surgeon.

"Well, if it isn't Gotham's golden boys," Roman sneered. "You just couldn't let me be, could you?"

Liam advanced again, swiping at Havelock who twisted out of the way. Roman turned on Louis, the syringe back in hand and aimed for his neck.

"You came back," Roman hissed. "Didn't think you'd want to meet me twice, kid. What? One needle wasn't enough?"

Liam intercepted him with a brutal strike to the jaw, sending the syringe flying. Roman stumbled, disoriented, and Louis followed up with a sharp kick that sent him crashing into the overturned table.

"Same tricks as last time," Roman taunted, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth as he rose to his feet. "Didn't work then, won't work now."

He launched himself at Louis who grabbed Roman by the collar, slamming him against the wall hard enough to make the shelves rattle.

Roman laughed, but the sound was strained now. "You're all bark, no bite, golden boy. Just like last time."

"Shut up," Louis snapped, yanking him forward before slamming him against the wall again.

Roman's hand flicked up, catching Louis' forearm with a shard of glass that he hadn't realised Havelock was wielding. Louis hissed, his grip slipping. Havelock used the moment to twist from Louis' grip, slipping past him with surprising speed and slamming an elbow into Liam's chest. The blow sent Liam stumbling into a tray of surgical tools, the clatter ringing out like gunfire.

Louis recovered fast, diving at Havelock before he could land another hit. With a sharp shove, he drove his fist into Roman's side, sending him crashing to the floor.

For a moment, the room was silent except for the ragged breaths of the three men. Roman groaned trying to pull himself up, but Liam was on him in seconds, twisting his arm behind his back and forcing him to the ground.

"Stay down," Liam growled, his voice dangerous.

Roman chuckled, his gaze shifting between the brothers. "You're both so predictable. Do-gooders to the core. Do you really think this ends with me? How many faces have I changed? How many of Gotham's criminals are walking around, laughing at how easily they vanished while you fools chase ghosts?"

Batman shoved his face to the floor. "Shut up."

Louis crouched next to the syringe Roman had dropped, his chest heaving as he stared at it with a mix of anger and unease. The memory of its contents flooding his bloodstream the last time they met sent a cold shiver through him.

Roman turned his head, his gaze flicking to Louis. "You think Joker's gonna be happy you went off-script, kid?" he said. "He doesn't like it when his toys make moves without him."

Louis stiffened but kept his expression neutral. He didn't dare glance at Liam.

Roman smirked, clearly sensing he'd struck a nerve. "When he finds you—oh, he will find you, Robin. You better pray you're still useful. You think the blood on your hands tonight is bad?" his voice dropped to a whisper. "Wait until it's your own."

"Not today," Liam said sharply. He secured Roman's wrists with a set of heavy cuffs before glancing up at Louis. "Call it in."

Louis nodded, fishing the comm link from his pocket with shaking fingers. He dialled quickly, the calm voice of the dispatcher grounding him. "This is Batman," he said, his voice steadier than he expected. "Roman Havelock is at a Butchers in the Narrow. He's restrained. Send backup."

Roman winced but kept talking, his gaze darting to Louis. "You really are a lapdog, aren't you?" he spat. "Following orders as usual. Does the Joker keep you on a tighter leash than Batman?"

Louis flinched at the words, but Liam didn't hesitate. He yanked Roman off the floor and slammed him into the wall.

"You talk too much," Liam said coldly. 

Roman's sneer didn't waver. "Go ahead. Lock me up. It didn't stick the first time, remember?"

Louis stepped forward, his jaw tight. "It'll stick this time," he said firmly. "The police are on their way."

Roman chuckled darkly, despite the blood dripping down his chin. "You'll have to run back to Daddy soon, Robin. That leash? Only gets tighter the harder you pull."

Louis stiffened, his jaw clenching.

"Does he enjoy making you his pet," Roman sneered.

Louis turned sharply, stepping toward Roman with a fire in his chest. "I'm not-" He stopped, catching himself, realising Roman was baiting him. He stepped back, jaw tight.

Roman sneered. "Yeah, keep telling yourself that."

Liam shoved Roman against the wall hard enough to make a crack. "Shut up," he snapped, his voice like a whip.

Havelock's eyes were still on Louis. "I mean, look at you—what's he got planned for you next? Got a mask picked out yet? Maybe you can play house-"

Liam pulled him off the wall, cutting Roman off with a quick strike to the side of the head. Roman slumped to the floor.

Louis' breath hitched as he looked at Liam. "You didn't—"

"He's fine," Liam said curtly, crouching and checking to make sure Roman was still alive. "Don't let him get to you."

"I know," Louis replied softly. But Roman's words lingered, coiling tight in his mind. "How does he know?"

Liam stood with a sigh, eyes still on Roman's unconscious body.  "Word must've spread," he muttered.

Sirens sounded out in the street and Liam hauled Roman's body up.

"Wait here," Liam instructed, carrying Havelock out of the room.

Louis nodded, mostly to himself. His eyes landed on the syringe still on the floor. He swallowed, looking away.

***

The night had settled uneasily over Liam's apartment. The faint hum of Gotham's chaos outside crept through the thick windows as Louis perched by the table, aimlessly stirring the cold remains of a mug of tea. His mind was racing, but Liam had stepped into the hallway for a phone call, leaving him alone with his restless thoughts.

Liam's voice drifted back into the room, sharp but hushed, just enough for Louis to catch snippets. He heard words like "Narrow," "Havelock," and "priority suspect." The uneasy tone didn't sit well with Louis, but what sent a shiver down his spine was the unmistakable mention of Joker's name.

Frowning, Louis strained to hear more, his chest tightening. Liam sounded almost... defensive.

"I already told you everything," Liam said, his words curt. "No, I haven't seen him since then. You know I'd say something if I did."

Louis' frown deepened as his gaze flicked toward the half-open door. He leaned back in his chair, waiting for Liam to return. A minute later, the door creaked open, and Liam stepped inside, his expression guarded.

"Who was that?" Louis asked casually, though his tone betrayed the tension in his chest.

"No one important," Liam replied quickly, brushing past him toward the sink.

Louis straightened, watching him carefully. "Liar," he said, his voice cutting through the air.

Liam paused, his shoulders stiffening as he placed a hand on the counter. Slowly, he turned to face Louis.

"It's nothing you need to worry about," he said carefully.

Louis stood. "If it's about Joker, I definitely need to worry about it. What's going on?"

Liam hesitated, his hand gripping the counter. "Louis... the police are looking for you."

The words hit like a gut punch. Louis's mind reeled, his throat tightening as if the air had suddenly become too thick. "What?" he managed, though his voice felt far away.

"They've got nothing solid yet," Liam rushed to add. "Just—your name came up. Someone ID'd you in the Narrow yesterday. Connected you to..." he hesitated.

"To Joker," Louis finished for him, his voice bitter. His stomach churned as he tried to process.

Liam nodded regretfully. "And then apparently Havelock's been talking," he explained. "Fuelling the fire as usual."

Louis swallowed. "You told them you hadn't seen me?"

"I had to," Liam replied, guilt flickering in his eyes. "I'm sure they'd hear you out but..." he trailed off. "They see you as—"

"As one of his now," Louis interrupted. "They think I'm working with him."

Liam swallowed hard, his silence saying more than words could.

Louis ran a hand through his hair, pacing the room. His pulse was racing. "This is bad," he muttered, half to himself. "If they're looking for me, it's not gonna stop. They'll keep digging."

"We'll figure it out," Liam said quickly, stepping forward. "We can fix this."

"Fix what?" Louis shot back, his voice rising. "I have been working with him. Do you have any idea what they'd do to me if they knew? They'd lock me up and throw away the key!"

"We'll fix it," Liam's tone was firm, his hands gripping Louis by the shoulders. His steady gaze met Louis's panicked one. "But we have to be smart. Keep your head down. We can figure out a way to clear your name."

"Clear my name?" Louis let out a humourless laugh, pulling away from Liam's grip. "You don't 'clear' a name once The Joker's on it." 

He glanced toward the window, the paranoia creeping in as he imagined Gotham's watchful eyes hunting him down.

Liam followed his gaze, his expression softening. "They haven't got anything concrete," he said. "It's just whispers right now. You have time."

"I haven't done anything," Louis said quickly, his voice rising in disbelief. His hands clenched into fists as panic set in. "You know that, Liam. I haven't—I wouldn't—"

"I know," Liam interrupted, his voice sharper than he intended. He softened immediately. "I know you haven't. I know. But it doesn't matter what I know."

Louis looked away, his heart racing as his mind spiralled. "So what, they just believe whatever he says? Roman's a liar—a criminal."

"They haven't gone public," Liam said quickly. "Not yet. It's just whispers right now. Behind closed doors. But..."

Louis filled it in himself, his voice brittle. "But it won't stay that way. The cops will come for me."

Liam straightened, his posture rigid as his expression darkened. "They're not laying a finger on you."

Louis stared at him, feeling like the floor had been ripped out from under him. "You can't stop them," he said quietly.

"The hell I can't," Liam shot back, his voice full of conviction. "I'll stop them. I'll bury this if I have to. I saved Gotham—we both have. They owe me. They'll listen."

Louis shook his head, his throat tightening. "And if they don't?"

"Then they'll regret it," Batman's eyes were blazing with protectiveness.

The thought gave Louis no comfort. Louis buried his face in his hands. "I don't even know why they'd believe it," he muttered. "What evidence do they have?"

Liam hesitated, shifting uneasily. "It's more than that," he admitted.

Louis froze, his head snapping up. "What?"

Liam looked pained, but he didn't falter. "Roman's not the only one talking. Other criminals have been... spreading rumours. They know you've been with him, Louis. That's why you're not just dealing with the cops anymore. The underworld sees you as a target, too."

Louis stared at him, his blood running cold. "A target?"

"They think you're Joker's new... partner," Liam said carefully, hating the way the words sounded aloud.

Louis let out a bitter laugh, the sound strained and humourless. "So I've got cops and killers after me. Great. Fantastic," he pressed his hands to his face, his thoughts swirling uncontrollably. "How bad is it?"

"It's fixable," Liam said quickly.

"I'm stuck, Liam. I can't stay here, and I can't go back to him," Louis mumbled, his voice muffled by his hands. "I'm in no man's land."

"You're not going back," Liam said firmly, his voice cutting through the despair like a blade.

Louis' hands dropped, his gaze hollow as he looked up at his brother. "I made a deal."

"And it doesn't mean anything," Liam snapped. "Not to me, not to anyone. Whatever he promised you, whatever you think will happen if you break it—it's not worth staying in his orbit."

"You don't know him," Louis said quietly.

"Then help me understand," Liam urged, crouching again to meet his brother's eyes. "Help me figure out how to stop him. Let me protect you."

Louis exhaled shakily, his shoulders sagging as the fight drained out of him. "You can't. He... he always wins."

"Not this time," Batman said coldly. "I don't care how dangerous he is. If he's coming after you, he's got to get through me first."

The words felt like a lifeline, but Louis couldn't bring himself to believe them. He glanced toward the window, his thoughts far away.

"What do I do now?" he asked finally, his voice small.

Liam's expression softened, placing a hand on Louis' shoulder. "You let me handle this," he said gently. "Just stay here."

Louis hesitated, his gaze flickering between Liam's determined expression and the floor. Finally, he nodded. The weight in his chest didn't ease.

"Alright," he said quietly.

Liam sighed.  "Try to get some rest, okay?"

Louis looked back at the window. He knew sleep wouldn't come easy. Not tonight.

Chapter Text

23: Echoes of an Elitist

-----

The muffled thrum of helicopter blades overhead stirred Louis awake, but the rough hand over his mouth snapped him into full consciousness. His initial, instinctive cry for help was stifled as he felt something cover his mouth, his struggles only earning a low, mocking laugh.

"Morning, sweetheart," Harry's voice cooed darkly, his green eyes glinting like a predator's in the faint moonlight. "Miss me?"

Louis froze for half a second, his mind catching up with the situation, and then he thrashed violently—kicking, squirming, anything to break free. His efforts only earned him tighter bonds as Harry secured his wrists together, the tight pull of rope sealing his fate.

"Careful," Harry chided as he effortlessly hoisted Louis over his shoulder. "You'll wear yourself out before the fun even begins."

The cold night air slapped Louis' face when they emerged through the open window. The helicopter's blades whirred above them, and Louis' heart sank. He hadn't even heard it land. His limbs froze as Harry tossed him onto the cabin floor and slammed the door shut behind them.

Louis glared up at Harry, muttering something unintelligible through the fabric covering his mouth. Harry chuckled. "What was that? Didn't quite catch it," he teased, leaning closer. "Come on, sweetheart. Don't be shy."

Louis exhaled sharply, his eyes narrowing at the constant taunting.

Harry smirked as he reached out to trace a finger along the edge of the cloth tied around Louis' mouth. "Go on, sweetheart," he coaxed. "Speak for me. Don't you want me to take this off?"

"Lemme go," Louis managed, muffled but unmistakable.

Harry tilted his head, amused. With deliberate slowness, he removed the fabric, letting Louis gasp for air. "Come again?" he smirked.

Louis' gaze flickered with rage. "Go to hell."

Harry's grin widened. "Oh, we're well past that, darling."

The helicopter began to soar higher, the lights of the city fading beneath them and Louis twisted against the ropes binding his wrists, his panic rising. Harry, meanwhile, lounged across from him, his gaze lazy but sharp.

"You ran from me," Harry's voice sharpened. "This is just the beginning of your punishment, sweetheart. The fun is yet to come," he leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "I told you I'd catch you."

Louis glared at him, his chest tight, heart racing. Harry seemed to enjoy the sight, his smile cold and smug.

"You don't know what you're in for," Harry continued. "I don't take kindly to being abandoned, Robin. You think before was bad? Just wait until you see what I've got planned for you."

Louis' breath caught as fear washed over him, his pulse pounding in his ears. "No," he muttered, shaking his head.

"No?" Harry repeated, with amused curiosity. His grin stretched wider. "Oh, but I've got ideas, sweetheart. So many ideas."

The chill running down Louis' spine deepened. His stomach churned, the desperation in his veins only intensifying as he glanced toward the helicopter door. He shuffled backwards, his feet dragging awkwardly.

In a burst of reckless panic, Louis used his elbow to activate the door lock. Before Harry could react, it sprang open, and Louis made a move for it, his mind screaming for an escape.

"Don't move!" Harry shouted.

"Come any closer, and I'll fall," Louis threatened, his voice edged with defiance and a flicker of terror.

"Don't you dare!" Harry barked, fury flashing in his eyes as he closed the distance.

Louis' words were shaky, but they were steady with intent. "You're going to hurt me. I'd rather fall."

Harry froze for a second. Louis could feel the air shift as Harry's anger bloomed, but he didn't take another step toward Louis. His face remained hard, his expression betraying no sign of mercy or regret.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Robin."

The coldness was there, but Harry's tone softened ever so slightly.

Louis swallowed as he looked at Harry, eyes wide in uncertainty. "But you just said—"

"I said I won't," Harry interrupted firmly.

"You promise?" Louis challenged, looking at Harry with wide, vulnerable eyes.

"I pro—" The helicopter made an uneasy jerk, forcing Louis backwards and letting him fall from the edge.

For one terrifying second, Louis was free-falling, gravity winning, but Harry's quick reflexes kicked in. He lunged forward, grabbing Louis' calf and yanking him back inside with a jerk.

Louis gasped, his heart hammering as Harry hauled him safely back into the helicopter, slamming the door shut with a force that rattled the interior. Harry ripped the emergency handle off, ensuring the door wouldn't open again.

Breathing heavily, Louis was held there, disoriented and reeling.

Harry brushed himself down calmly before walking to the front of the helicopter where he proceeded to shoot the pilot. Louis gasped loudly at this, breathing heavily when Harry walked back towards him with blood speckled across his suit

"Thank God for the co-pilot, huh?" Harry said with a chuckle, taking off his suit jacket.

"Oh my God," Louis choked out. "It was an accident, you didn't have to kill him!"

Harry's sharp laugh rang out. "An accident that almost cost my life," he said simply, without remorse.

"You didn't have to save me!" Louis cried.

"I did." Harry's voice dropped flatly, a finality in his words.

Louis shook his head, bottom lip wobbling. "You didn't have to kill him," he repeated.

"I did," Harry said again. The silence that followed felt suffocating, as if Harry's chilling words hung between them like the deadly air surrounding them.

"That wasn't fair," Louis' voice cracked, his chest tight with confusion and grief. His emotions were raw, and his anger grew like a storm cloud inside him. "It wasn't his fault."

"Life isn't fair, Robin."

"Only because you make it that way," Louis said weakly, looking up at him with a mix of hurt and anger. "You don't play a fair game."

"I've played fair with you," Harry countered.

"Then why am I tied up?" Louis shot back.

Harry tilted his head, watching Louis for a moment before he moved toward him slowly, kneeling to his level. He took the ropes off Louis' wrists with unnerving gentleness, watching him closely.

"Better?" Harry asked after the last rope fell to the floor. Louis tenderly rubbed his wrists as if to reassure himself that he wasn't still bound.

"Yes," Louis answered. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," Harry said as he straightened up, though his eyes never left Louis.

Harry studied Louis for a long moment, his expression softening just a fraction as he watched the younger man. Something about Louis' fear reminded him of the first time he saw that look, the first time they'd ever met, back when Louis hadn't completely settled into who he was.

Louis noticed it, that touch of gentleness that he sometimes caught in Harry's eyes. It was one of the reasons that seeing him kill so easily, so carelessly, caught Louis off guard. That made him feel so betrayed.

Louis was tense, still shaken from the previous events. His hands trembled slightly as he rubbed his wrists. Harry seemed to read the subtle shifts in his body, and after a moment of silence, he finally broke it.

"Why'd you run?" Harry's voice was low.

Louis let out a bitter laugh, the remnants of his disbelief hanging on every word. "Are you serious?"

Harry tilted his head, the faintest smirk playing on his lips. "Enlighten me."

Louis' jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing, but he didn't answer immediately. The raw emotion roiled inside him, frustration mixing with disbelief. "Are you that deranged?" he asked, his voice dripping with disdain.

Harry's smirk only deepened, enjoying the emotion Louis was showing, the rawness in his voice. "Oh, don't tell me you're throwing tantrums over a man you met twice," he teased, the air around him almost palpable with arrogance. "He wasn't all that, sweetheart."

Louis' fist bawled involuntarily. The last remnants of his patience snapped, and he finally looked Harry dead in the eye.

"You're just sick," Louis muttered, his voice rough, thick with the words that had been building up.

Harry exaggerated a wounded gasp, pressing a hand to his chest dramatically. "Ouch," he teased. "I'm wounded, Robin. Really, that stings."

Louis clenched his jaw, the words crawling up his throat. "Let me go," he whispered. There was no force behind the words, just that dull, empty ache of wanting something different but knowing he couldn't have it.

Harry didn't react immediately, just standing there for a beat, as if to gauge Louis' desperation. And then, with a cold, almost absent gaze, he answered with finality.

"You made a deal, sweetheart. And we have work to do."

The words hung in the air between them, a painful reminder of Louis' powerlessness. They didn't speak for a moment as the helicopter continued its flight.

Louis kept his gaze on the floor, and Harry lingered near him, his eyes still on Louis as if he was waiting for something—waiting for Louis to speak, to challenge him, to break. But Louis was just silent, his mind spinning, a haze of emotions that threatened to suffocate him. The reality of what had happened... what was to come, weighed on him like a physical burden.

Finally, Harry's voice broke the quiet. He leaned in slightly, his words light but carrying weight.

"I've scared you, haven't I?"

Louis didn't reply. He just looked out at the city passing by below them, his shoulders rigid, the tension in his muscles a clear sign that even Harry's probing couldn't unravel him this time.

Another few minutes passed in silence before the helicopter began to slow, signalling their descent. Harry stayed back, leaving Louis to process whatever he was feeling before the landing.

The aircraft touched down with a slight jolt, the city noises now more pronounced as they reached Harry's building. The familiar hum of the helicopter's engines stopped with a swift click.

"Here we are," Harry said, his voice strangely quiet now, a cold calm settling over him.

Louis stood as the door was opened for them. He glanced at the cockpit, seeing the slumped body of the pilot. Blood stained his shirt, pooling beneath his unmoving form; Louis swallowed as he stepped outside.

"Don't look so gloomy, sweetheart," Harry's voice broke through, sharp and cruel. He was walking a few paces behind, his footsteps unnervingly silent on the damp concrete.

"You're fucking twisted," Louis muttered under his breath.

The two walked across the concrete towards the familiar sight of Harry's apartment. Once they stepped inside the apartment, Louis felt his skin crawl. He made a beeline for the bedroom, his footsteps quick but deliberate.

But before his hand could even reach the doorknob, a voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Not so fast, darling."

Louis' heart pounded as he turned, barely holding in his annoyance. "What now?"

Harry stepped closer, his eyes never leaving Louis'. "You didn't think I'd just let you run off, did you?" there was a coldness in his voice that made Louis weaken at the knees.

Louis swallowed, looking down at his feet and avoiding The Joker's heavy gaze.

"Look at me," Harry commanded softly, his voice low, almost lazy in its power. Harry moved to stand directly in front of him, hand reaching out. "I said, look at me."

Louis felt like he couldn't breathe. Harry's hand cupped his chin, lifting his face, forcing their eyes to meet.

Louis took a shaky breath, standing his ground even though every part of him screamed to get away. He was terrified, he realised. Genuinely scared for the first time in so long.

Harry watched him intently, as though feeding off the fear building up in the room between them. Finally, Harry softened, a thin smirk curling at his lips.

"You're not the one I want to hurt," Harry's voice took on an almost surprisingly gentle tone. His thumb brushed lightly along Louis' cheek. "Stop acting so scared."

Louis inhaled sharply, biting back the fear bubbling up in his throat. The anger from before warred with the paralysis inside him, and he barely whispered, "I'm not acting."

Harry faltered for a split second, his expression twitching, but it passed just as quickly. His grin grew even sharper, bloodthirsty in its teasing.

"Oh, don't go making it too easy for me," he drawled. "I don't enjoy it when you act like this. Makes it boring."

Louis couldn't suppress the shiver that ran through him. "You're disgusting," he said, the words pushed out harshly, his voice barely staying steady.

Harry's smile only widened at that, his eyes flashing dangerously as he leaned in just slightly. "I'll take that as a compliment, sweetheart."

He stepped back, dropping his hand from Louis' face and straightening himself up. Louis looked away and Harry's nose twitched as he sighed in frustration.

"Get some rest," he waved at Louis dismissively. "We start early."

Louis walked into the bedroom and didn't look back.

***

The early morning air in the Batcave was heavy, the faint hum of computers and the flicker of the massive screens casting the room in a cold blue glow. Liam paced near the main console, his jaw clenched as he tried to focus on the task at hand, though the weight in his chest made it hard to breathe.

"Any sign?" he asked, his voice tight as he glanced over his shoulder at Niall, who was hunched over a secondary console, furiously typing.

"No alarms," Niall muttered, his voice tinged with disbelief. He tapped frantically at the adjacent console, trying to recover more of the footage. "They shut down the sensors, overrode the internal security... This wasn't some amateur job, mate."

Liam gritted his teeth, his fist clenching at his side. "That doesn't make sense. Nobody but us can access those codes."

Liam's frown deepened, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. His eyes darted to the feed they had managed to recover—a series of stills from before the cameras went offline. 

"You think he just... walked out?" Niall asked cautiously, sparing Liam a glance.

Liam shook his head. "No way. Not without a reason. And certainly not without saying something to me."

Niall tapped at the keyboard again, pulling up a log of system activity. "I don't know, mate. If someone took him, we'd see some kind of struggle, wouldn't we?"

"He wouldn't just leave," Liam snapped, his frustration bleeding through his voice.

Niall paused, leaning back in his chair and running a hand through his hair. He studied Liam carefully, choosing his next words deliberately. "Are you sure about that?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Liam asked, his tone sharper than he intended.

"Louis has been... distant," Niall replied carefully. "And with everything that's been going on, you can't exactly blame him, can you? He's under a hell of a lot of pressure."

Liam's jaw tightened. He didn't respond immediately, his gaze fixed on the still image of Louis frozen on the screen; the last picture of them entering the apartment together last night.

"I promised him," Liam said quietly after a moment, his voice rough. "I promised him he'd be safe here. I told him I'd protect him. And if someone took him right under our noses, that's on me."

Niall sighed. "It's not your fault," he was running another scan of Louis' picture through the public security cameras in the area. "I'll keep looking if you're sure he didn't leave on his own," he said quietly.

"He wouldn't," Liam said finally, shaking his head as if to banish the thought entirely. "Not without telling me. Not without saying goodbye."

"And what if..." Niall hesitated again as if weighing whether to push further. "What if he didn't want to say goodbye?"

There was silence for a moment. Liam looked away.

"Run another trace on his comm frequency," Liam ordered stiffly, deflecting. "We'll cross-check known locations for Joker activity in the last 48 hours."

Liam inhaled sharply, forcing himself to straighten, to push the growing despair to the back of his mind. The screen flickered as the tracer software attempted another sweep for Louis' comm frequency. He barely registered the sound.

Instead, all he could hear was the promise he'd made, repeating in his head like a taunt. And now, all he could do was hope he hadn't failed.

***

Louis' hands trembled as he pressed himself against the door, his weight holding it shut. His breathing was shallow, his chest tight, as if the walls themselves were closing in. Every creak in the floorboards, every distant sound, made his stomach twist in panic.

In his pocket, he gripped the slim communicator he'd tucked away before going to sleep. Just in case. He didn't even think when he grabbed it—an instinct, a silent refusal to completely give up his connection to home.

His other hand shakily brought the device to his lips. "Liam," he whispered, his voice a breath of sound. "Are you there?"

The response was almost immediate."Louis?" Liam's voice came in sharp, urgent, but barely above a whisper. "Where are you?"

Louis tightened his grip on the comm, swallowing the knot in his throat. "I don't have much time. He might—" He stopped, biting the words off as his heart slammed against his ribs.

"What the hell happened?" Liam pressed, urgency breaking through. Louis could hear faint background noise—a monitor beeping, the murmur of Niall saying something quickly—and then Liam's voice again, hard, clipped. "Did he take you? Are you hurt?"

"No." Louis hesitated, his grip on the comms tightening. "I mean, yes, he he took me. He came in the middle of the night. There was no alarm.  The cameras—"

"All out," Liam cut him off. "Damn it, Louis, why didn't you call sooner?" he snapped, anger and fear bleeding into his voice. "I thought—" he composed himself. "Are you safe?"

"I'm fine," Louis promised. "But you can't do anything. Don't come looking for me. Don't... don't make a move," he pulled away from the door but kept his eyes fixed on it nervously. 

 "What are you talking about? I can—"

"No!" Louis said sharply, his voice hitching. He took a deep breath, glancing nervously at the door as though expecting it to swing open at any second. "Listen to me. I can't leave yet. I'll gain his trust. Then I'll figure out how to take him down."

"Louis, this is insane," Liam's voice dropped to a desperate whisper. "He's dangerous. Whatever you're planning—"

"I don't have a plan!" Louis snapped, too loud. He froze, sucking in a sharp breath, eyes darting toward the door. "I don't have a plan," he repeated, quieter this time, his voice breaking slightly. "But I'll figure it out. I just need you to trust me."

"Louis..." Liam's voice softened, but there was pain beneath it. "You don't have to do this alone-"

"I do, Liam," Louis said, his voice frayed at the edges. "I'll reach out when I can, I promise. I just need to build his trust. Then I'll come to find you. We can work together."

Liam's silence felt like a weight pressing against Louis' chest. Finally, he spoke, his voice rough. "We'll take him down," he promised. "For good."

Louis heard movement from outside the door. "I have to go," he whispered. The comm beeped as the connection ended. Louis shoved it back into his pocket, his breathing unsteady.

A sound outside the room made his entire body lock up. His pulse roared in his ears as the door opened.

Harry walked in, leaning against the doorframe with raised eyebrows. "Well, don't keep me waiting, sweetheart."

Louis glared at him. "What, no privacy in this place?"

Harry smiled faintly. "Would you like me to knock next time?"

"I'd like you to stay as far away from me as possible," Louis retorted. "But knocking will do."

Harry chuckled, looking Louis over. "Come on, we have a list to finish," he held Louis' gaze for a moment, firm and pressing. 

Louis swallowed, nodding. He pushed past Harry, walking straight by him and out of the room.

Chapter Text

24: Journals of a Jester
——-

The table was a mess—papers everywhere, Gotham's underbelly spread out in fine print and photographs under the sharp glow of a single overhead lamp. Harry hadn't moved for hours, sleeves rolled to his elbows, the lines of his face lit in sharp relief. His pencil scratched lazily against the margin of an open file, but his words came first—calm and casual, breaking the silence the moment Louis walked in.

"Get me a drink."

Louis froze mid-step, brows shooting up. "Are you kidding me?"

Harry didn't even glance up, flipping a page between long, deliberate fingers. "Did it sound like I was kidding?"

Louis scoffed, an incredulous look on his face. "Is that why you brought me here? To wait on you?"

Harry was still fixated on the litter of files. "Am I hearing complaints, sweetheart?"

Louis tilted his head, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, sorry. I didn't realise I'd been promoted to personal servant."

At that, Harry finally lifted his gaze. "Well," he said, his green eyes gleamed as they met Louis', half-lazy and half-lethal. "I could think of a hundred other ways to put you to work. Not sure you'd like them though."

Louis shifted, his chin raised stubbornly. "Try me."

Harry tilted his head like he was considering it. A beat passed—long enough for Louis to feel unsettled—and then Harry's eyes glinted. "You couldn't handle it."

Louis frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Harry just smirked at him, eyes trailing up and down, taking in every detail of Louis.

Louis recoiled, catching on. "Ew," his heart skipped a beat. "Pass."

"Shame," Harry hummed, dropping his attention back to the files in front of him. "You'd like it eventually. Might just need some adjusting."

Louis exhaled sharply, more exasperated than he cared to admit. "Unbelievable." He turned on his heel toward the kitchen. "I'll just stick to waiting on you."

"That's the spirit, sweetheart," Harry called after him. "What would I do without you?"

When Louis returned a moment later with a cold glass. "Here. Don't say I never did anything for you," he held it out to Harry.

Harry didn't take the drink. Instead, with disarming ease, he reached up and caught Louis' wrist in his hand.  Before Louis could process it, he was tugged gently but insistently to stand between Harry's legs, uncomfortably close.

"Hey—"

"Calm down," Harry murmured. 

Louis could feel every nerve in his body scream at the proximity, his pulse stuttering as he tried not to focus on how close Harry's face was to his. "What, you expect me to feed it to you as well?" he bit out.

Harry smirked, thumb brushing just once against Louis' pulse as if he could feel its frantic beat. "Not a bad idea, darling."

Harry used his free hand to take the drink from Louis, bringing the glass to his lips and drinking in long sips. Louis tore his eyes away from Harry's lips, from his throat, looking down at his feet instead. Louis swallowed, the space between them thick and unbearable.

Harry placed the glass on the table, his attention going back to Louis. For one drawn-out moment, Harry just looked up at him—studied him, like he was piecing together the puzzle that was Louis' rapidly unravelling composure.

"What do you think?"

Louis blinked, finally looking back at Harry. "About what?"

Harry's grip didn't loosen, not immediately. His thumb brushed absently over Louis' wrist as if anchoring him there. "Ray Holt. The last man on our list, remember? Or were you too busy sulking to pay attention?"

Louis frowned faintly, trying and failing not to feel unsettled by the proximity. "I wasn't sulking."

"You're sulking now," Harry replied, but there was no malice in it.

Louis stiffened. "You really want my thoughts?" he asked finally.

"Always." Harry dropped his hand and gestured for him to sit opposite the chaos of files. "You're supposed to be the brains of the operation, darling."

There was something about the way he said it that sent heat prickling up Louis' neck—a demand but also an acknowledgement. He pulled out the chair across from Harry with exaggerated effort, dropping into it heavily.

Louis frowned, flipping through one of the folders—Holt's photo clipped to the top. A man who, on the surface, seemed decent, clean-shaven with a weary edge in his smile. Louis turned the picture toward Harry. "I don't get it," he admitted quietly.

Harry gave him a passing glance before his focus drifted back to the image. "Don't get what?"

Louis pressed his lips together, his gaze locked on the file in front of him. How does someone like him... just flip? One day, he's protecting people, and the next he's... working with criminals."

Harry shifted in his seat. "Maybe he figured it out. That Gotham was always going to be this way." Harry leaned forward slightly, now fully engaging with Louis. "Maybe he realised that this city isn't worth saving."

Louis shook his head. "It doesn't make any sense. He was a cop," Louis stated. "And what, he just turns his back on everything? Just like that. "

Harry's lips parted in a low, self-assured laugh. "You're still clinging to hope that everyone wants to do the right thing? Please." He nudged a few of the photos aside, turning to look at Louis directly. "Gotham's lost. And maybe he's smart for realising it sooner than most."

Louis scoffed. "What so he adds to the destruction?" he questioned. "To the suffering? To the danger?" he ranted. "That doesn't make him smart, it makes him cruel."

"Destruction is what the city deserves," Harry shot back. "It's what it's been built upon."

Louis huffed. "If he hates it so much- if you hate it so much," he bit out, "then why are you still here?"

Something in Harry's gaze flickered before his lips curved into a sharp grin. "Because it's mine."

The statement settled cold in Louis' chest. He swallowed down whatever emotion threatened to rise and pushed the file across the table toward Harry.

Louis sighed. "Here," he muttered, pointing to one of the transactions on the file. "That's the name of a storage unit on Milford Street."

Harry reached for the glass of water then, finally. He lifted it in a mock toast. "There he is. My brains and beauty."

Louis glared. "Do you want me to work, or do you want me to leave?" he asked. "Because you're really testing me."

Harry's grin softened into something unsettlingly sincere. "Who said anything about leaving?"

Louis rolled his eyes and ducked his head, focusing on the files. But even as he worked, he could still feel Harry's gaze on him—lazy but steady, like he wasn't letting him out of his sight.

"Milford Street has an old warehouse," Harry continued. "One that used to be used by the Sullivans."

Louis frowned. "The Sullivans?" he repeated. "But Arne's still locked up and Norman hasn't been seen since-"

"Since he skipped town with a hefty amount of my money," Harry cut in.

Louis couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. "You? The Joker? He owes you money?" he asked.  "What did you do, run an extension on his lease?"

"How do you think he became big, bad boss of Kavanagh?" Harry replied. "That was all me, sweetheart," he said. "And that power? That's worth a lot."

Louis sat back, glaring at Harry, his mind caught on the mention of Kavanagh and everything it implied.

"So," Harry drawled, standing and stretching lazily before shrugging on his coat. The casual menace of his grin never faltered as he adjusted his cuffs. "Are you coming?"

Louis exhaled sharply, muttering as he stood. "Do I have a choice?"

"Nope." Harry tossed the words over his shoulder breezily as he moved toward the door. The corner of his mouth tugged up further as he added, "I need my eye candy."

Louis rolled his eyes, biting down on a retort as he followed. "What exactly are we hoping to find?"

"Answers. Or bodies." Harry pulled the door open with a theatrical swing, light from the hallway spilling into the dim room. His grin turned sharper. "I'm not picky."

***

The storage unit was silent, save for the faint creak of floorboards as Norman shifted uneasily. The hum of distant traffic barely broke through the thick air of tension that clung to the walls, the space claustrophobic despite its vast size. The two men huddled near a stack of crates, low voices muttering over something, too quiet to catch. More men were residing in the background, henchmen of sorts. 

The door to the unit creaked open, but Norman and Ray didn't look up—at least, not at first. A flicker of movement caught their eyes in the corner, but they remained oblivious.

Until a smooth, almost mocking voice broke the silence.

"Well, well. Rats and their plans, huh?"

Ray whipped around, his heart thundering in his chest as his eyes locked with Harry. The sharp grin of the man standing at the doorway made Norman's stomach lurch.

Norman blinked at him. "Joker," he muttered, trying to stay cool despite his shaking hands. "I've been meaning to catch you."

Harry's grin never wavered as he stalked into the room, his voice laced with amusement and a cold edge. "Before or after you skipped town with my money?" he asked, eyes narrowing as he scanned the space.

"I wasn't running," Norman stammered, trying to maintain some air of bravado. "I've got your money, all of it! You can have it!" His hand waved toward a few boxes filled with bundles of cash.

"We didn't come here for you," Harry replied, voice sliding into an unsettling calm, "but luck seems to be on our side." His eyes flickered to Ray then, a dark gleam to them.

Ray, who had been silently seething at the back, took a step forward, fists clenched. His tone was venomous. "What do you want?"

Louis stepped forward slightly. "You back behind bars," he said evenly, cutting in before Ray could say anything else. "Where you belong."

Ray scoffed, sneering. "Oh, really? You think you're any better than me? Some kind of hero?" His eyes went to Harry, then locked back on Louis with contempt. "When you're with him?"

"You don't know what you're talking about," Louis shot back, straightening his shoulders. 

"Oh, come on," Ray sneered, his lips curling into something cruel. "You're playing coy? So what's the story? You're not his little sidekick?"

Harry's sharp voice cut in, low and dangerous.  "Careful," he said, his smile evaporating. "People say I can get pretty nasty when I'm angry." He cocked his head at Ray, eyes gleaming with danger. "Unless that's what you're aiming for?"

Ray, on the other hand, scowled, eyes burning with anger as his hands clenched into fists. "You're nothing but a joke," he stepped forward, his voice rising. "It's time for a new king."

"New king?" Harry interrupted, barely breaking a smile. He tilted his head. "Did someone hand out the crown when I wasn't looking?" His laugh was cold, devoid of humour, and it made the tension in the room thicken.

Ray snarled and launched himself forward. "I'll take it myself—"

Harry didn't let him finish. A solid punch sent Ray staggering to the ground, and chaos exploded.

One of Ray's men moved in at the same moment, brandishing a knife. Harry twisted out of the way of the man's wild swing, retaliating with a vicious uppercut that sent him stumbling to the floor.

Louis found himself facing another of the men, who came at him with a metal pipe. Ducking the initial swing, Louis drove his shoulder into the man's chest, knocking him back into the wall. They grappled briefly before Louis swung his fist into the man's jaw, sending him sprawling across a stack of boxes.

Another of the henchmen lunged toward Harry with a crowbar, but Harry moved out of the way, countering with a well-placed elbow to the man's jaw. "Sloppy," he muttered.

Behind him, Louis was knee-deep in a grapple with another man.

"Looking good, sweetheart," Harry called over his shoulder as Louis knocked his second opponent clean across the room, sending him stumbling into a shelf full of jars and boxes.

Louis rolled his eyes but couldn't contain a smile at Harry's teasing tone. "I'm not here for compliments." He delivered a punch to another goon, taking him out of the fight completely. "But thanks."

One of the men lunged for Harry. A flash of steel sliced through the air. Harry dodged just enough to avoid being gutted, but the knife cut a shallow gash across his shoulder. His jaw clenched, a brief flicker of pain crossing his face before it vanished into a practised smirk.

Harry retaliated without missing a beat, slamming his elbow into the goon's gut before grabbing the knife out of his hand and driving the handle into the man's temple. The man crumpled, unconscious.

Ray had recovered and came at Harry again, rage fuelling every swing of his fists. Their fight turned brutal—punches exchanged with force, every impact reverberating through the confined space. But Harry was faster, deadlier, and with a swift movement, he brought Ray down, knocking him flat to the ground.

At the same time, Louis squared off against another goon. He ducked a punch and, with fluid movement, he landed a solid punch to the man's nose, the crunch echoing through the room. Harry watched him with a satisfied smirk. 

Harry's playfulness evaporated as soon as he saw Norman scrambling toward the back of the storage unit. In a flash, he grabbed Norman, who'd tried to take the opportunity to sneak past them, throwing him back to the floor with terrifying ease.

"Now where do you think you're going?" Harry asked, his voice low, dangerous, as he slid forward. There was no escape for Norman. "You didn't think I'd forget you, did you?"

"No, no! I—" Norman's breath hitched as he struggled, glancing frantically from Harry to the exit.

"I'm not done," Harry interrupted, a sharp edge cutting his voice. With a brutal twist, he grabbed Norman's collar, yanking him back to his feet and slamming him into a wall with an unsettling crash. The man slumped under the sudden force, gasping for air.

Louis blinked from across the unit where he was cuffing two of the henchmen. "You didn't?" he asked.

"Nope," Harry promised. "Not dead. I know how squirmy you get around blood."

Louis huffed out a laugh. "Whatever," he muttered, moving to Ray who was hardly conscious.

Ray moved his mouth to speak, gargling on the blood that covered his teeth.

Loius raised an eyebrow at him. "Really doesn't seem like you're up to a conversation right now."

"Bitch," Ray spat.

Harry's foot was on his throat before Louis could reply, his heel pressing down on Ray's neck. Harry smirked as he watched the man gag, blood tricking down his chin.

Louis looked up at Harry. "Enough."

Harry eased up but didn't remove his foot. "Why?" he asked. "He doesn't deserve to live."

"That's not for you to decide."

Harry looked down at Louis thoughtfully. "And it's up to you?"

Louis shook his head. "He'll get what's coming to him."

Harry let out a short laugh. "You sure do like keeping the cops in business don't you, sweetheart?"

Harry kept his foot on Ray's neck with firm pressure until the man's head lulled to the side, unconscious. He slowly removed his foot, kicking Ray onto his front.

Louis secured him in handcuffs and unhooked the police scanner from Ray's belt, standing and handing it to Harry as he went off to cuff Norman.

Harry grinned, turning the police scanner in his hand before holding it up to his mouth. "Officers, we have a code eight on Milford Street," he drawled, in a thick accent. "That's a code eight on Milford Street, we are requesting backup."

Louis stifled a laugh as he cuffed Norman, hauling him up and propping him against the wall. He stood, turning to face Harry. 

"Ready to go?" he asked, eyeing Harry.

The Joker just smiled at him. "After you, sweetheart."

Louis rolled his eyes, brushing past Harry as he exited the storage unit. Harry followed after him, nose twitching as he glanced down at the dark stain of blood forming on his jacket. 

***

The room was dim, only the flicker of the overhead lamp breaking the silence. The air was thick with the remnants of the night, the kind of quiet that always followed a dangerous mission. 

Harry stumbled in first, his movements slower than usual. His hand brushed against the doorframe as he entered, his eyes squinting against the dim light.

He made it as far as the couch before sitting down with a low hiss of pain, immediately wincing when his weight settled.

Louis followed closely behind, removing his gloves and mask, his eyes immediately tracking the way Harry shifted, trying to hide his discomfort. Harry didn't seem to notice the way Louis was watching him, or maybe he just didn't care.

There was something about Harry's posture that wasn't quite right—he was still too stiff, his usual cocky swagger replaced by something more strained.

"You alright?" Louis asked, voice low but sharp with concern.

Harry leaned back, a lazy smile stretching across his face, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Just a scratch," he muttered, brushing it off with a wave of his hand.

Louis narrowed his eyes, taking in the way Harry's jacket hung loose, the fabric darkened at the shoulder. He didn't buy it. "I don't believe you," he said firmly, taking a step closer. "Let me see."

"It's nothing," Harry insisted, shaking his head.

Louis rolled his eyes as he made his way over to Harry, his fingers working carefully to peel back the fabric of Harry's jacket. "Show me."

Harry raised a brow at him. "You really want to play doctor, huh?" he sounded almost amused as he let his jacket slide down his shoulders and pool around him on the sofa.

"Take your shirt off," Louis instructed.

Harry grinned. "The worried look suits you, sweetheart."

Louis grabbed Harry's collar, giving him a firm tug. "Take it off."

Harry faltered, caught off guard by Louis' forcefulness. "Fine," he grumbled, sitting up with a small wince. Slowly, he peeled off his shirt, revealing his chest, slick with sweat and blood.

Louis didn't let him linger, grabbing his shoulders and pushing him back against the couch. "Stay there," he ordered, his tone firm as he turned on his heel.

He moved quickly to the corner of the room, rummaging through a cabinet until he found what he was looking for—a small, slightly battered first aid kit. When he returned, Harry had slouched further into the couch, his eyes half-lidded as he watched Louis with that infuriatingly smug grin still etched across his face.

"Stop touching it," Louis snapped, swatting Harry's hand away from the wound when he saw him probing at it.

Harry chuckled softly. "You're cute when you're bossy, you know that?"

"Shut up," Louis muttered, setting the kit down on the coffee table with a decisive thud. 

He opened the kit and began pulling out the antiseptic, gauze, and a clean cloth. He knelt between Harry's legs, elbows resting on Harry's thighs as he poured antiseptic onto the cloth.

Harry tilted his head, clearly enjoying the view. "You look good down there, sweetheart," he said, his voice dropping into a lower, teasing register.

Louis glared up at him, his expression sharp enough to cut. "Do you ever stop talking?"

"Not when you're this fun to tease," Harry shot back, smirking.

Louis ignored him, focusing instead on the wound on Harry's shoulder. It wasn't as deep as he'd feared, but it was still messy. Blood had trickled down, drying in streaks across his skin, mingling with the intricate tattoos that sprawled across his chest and arms. Louis leant up on his knees, inching closer to Harry.

"This might sting," Louis warned, though he didn't wait for a response. He pressed the cloth, damp with antiseptic, to the wound. Harry hissed softly, his body tensing beneath Louis' touch. "Relax," he used his free hand to hold Harry's bicep, rubbing his thumb gently against the skin.

Harry let out a soft breath, leaning his head back against the couch. "You sure know how to make a guy feel special," he said. "Maybe you can kiss it better too."

"Keep talking and I'll make it worse," Louis muttered. His hands moved deftly, cleaning the wound with practised efficiency.

Harry's gaze never left him, his green eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and something softer, something Louis didn't want to name. "You've done this before."

Louis didn't look up. "I've had to," he replied shortly. "People get hurt around me. I fix what I can."

Harry hummed, the sound low and contemplative. "And here I thought you were just softening up for me."

"Shut up," Louis muttered again, but there was a faint flush creeping up his neck as he worked.

"Think you can fix me too?" Harry's voice was low, hardly audible.

Louis frowned, glancing up at Harry briefly before going back to the wound, dabbing at it gently. "I don't know," he whispered. "But I'm trying to."

Harry didn't reply, just kept his gaze fixed on Louis below him.

When the wound was finally clean, Louis began wrapping the gauze around Harry's shoulder, his movements careful and precise. As he leaned closer to secure the bandage, his face was just inches from Harry's chest, close enough to see every line and detail of the tattoos there. One in particular caught his eye—a set of birds just below his collarbones.

Without thinking, Louis reached out, his fingers tracing lightly over the ink. Harry stiffened slightly at the touch, his breath hitching.

"This why you wanted my shirt off?" Harry teased, his voice quieter now.

Louis pulled his hand back quickly, tying off the bandage. "Don't be ridiculous" he flushed red, sitting back on his heels and looking up at Harry. "You're done."

Harry didn't move. Instead, his hand reached out, curling lightly around Louis' wrist, holding him there. His green eyes searched Louis' face, unreadable but intense.

Louis swallowed, meeting Harry's eyes with an expectant look.

"Thank you," Harry said softly, the sincerity in his voice catching Louis off guard.

Louis blinked, unsure of how to respond. "It's nothing," he said, trying to pull his hand away, but Harry held on a moment longer.

"Careful," he whispered. "Might start to think that you care about me," he reached out to brush Louis' hair from his face.

Louis tensed at the contact but stayed put. "You wish," he muttered.

Harry smiled, finally letting him go. Louis stood immediately, pulling back from Harry. The Joker just watched him, amused.

"Goodnight, sweetheart."

Louis nodded softly, cheeks still pink. "Goodnight," he whispered back before practically running from the room.

Chapter Text

25: Vows of a Visionary

-----

Louis perched on the edge of the bed, his back to the door, keeping one ear trained on the hall. His fingers tightened around the slim communicator in his hand. 

"Liam," Louis whispered, his voice barely audible.

"Here," Liam replied almost immediately, his voice steady but quiet. "You good?"

"Yeah," Louis said quickly, his eyes darting to the door, fixating on the handle as if he expected it to turn at any moment. "For now."

"You haven't been caught using this, right?" Liam asked.

"Not yet," Louis exhaled slowly. "I'm careful. He doesn't know."

"Good," Liam said, his calm confidence a stark contrast to Louis' nerves. "What've you got for me?"

"The list is done," Louis murmured, glancing at the door again. "But I don't know what his next move is. I'm going to have to talk to him, see if I can figure it out."

"Smart," Liam said simply. "Once you know, we can make a plan."

 Louis sighed. "He's not gonna just sit still."

"No, he wouldn't," Liam agreed simply. "Do you think he's planning something bigger?"

Louis hesitated, the weight of it heavy on his chest. "Probably. I'm going to feel him out—see what I can learn."

"Good." There was a brief pause. "But don't push too hard. If he even sniffs that something's up-"

"I know," Louis interrupted softly. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'll be careful, I promise."

Another pause, shorter this time, before Liam said, "And after you find out?"

Louis leaned forward, lowering his voice. "I'll come home—"

"No," Liam cut him off firmly. "That's too risky. We'll meet somewhere else."

Louis glanced toward the window, his voice barely audible. "Where?"

"I'll send you a location before dark," Liam promised.

Louis nodded to himself, muttering, "Okay."

There was a pause, Liam's measured breathing the only sound through the line. Then his voice came, softer this time. "You're doing good, Louis."

Louis swallowed hard, his fingers curling tightly around the comm. "You sure? Sometimes it feels like I'm making it up as I go."

"You are," there was a faint smirk in Liam's voice. "But so far, it's working."

Louis let out a dry laugh, relaxing slightly.

"As long as you stay smart," Liam continued, "you'll be fine. And you'll get out when it's time."

"Yeah," Louis echoed, though the weight in his voice lingered.

"I'll see you tonight," Liam said simply, steady as ever.

Louis nodded, even though the words felt heavier than usual. "Tonight." He ended the call and tucked the communicator away, his heart still thudding in his chest as he glanced at the door one last time.

Taking a sharp breath, he stood and headed out to find Harry.

The kitchen was bright, slashes of morning light breaking through the blinds, illuminating the ever-present tension between them. Harry sat at the counter, effortlessly slicing into an apple with a sharp knife as if the weight of Gotham weren't lingering in the room like a spectre. Louis lingered by the doorway for a moment. 

Harry spoke first, his voice casual. "The brooding's a bit much, don't you think?"

Louis stiffened. "You'll survive," he muttered, stepping into the room.

Harry raised an eyebrow, biting into a piece of apple. "Barely," he shot back, licking the juice off his fingers. "Tell me—do you make all your teammates miserable, or is it just me?"

Louis glared at him, deadpan. "My other teammates don't kidnap me. I think that helps."

Harry smirked. "Touché." He took another bite. "I'm in a good mood this morning, sweetheart. Try not to ruin it."

Louis huffed, folding his arms. "Why? You find another person to add to the list?"

"Quite the opposite," Harry replied, leaning casually against the counter. "I hear you handled our dear Dr Havelock all on your own."

Louis looked up at him, startled by the sudden shift.

"Oh, yes," Harry said, almost lazily. "Thanks for that, sweetheart. Clean work. The dear doctor won't be bothering us anymore," he added, a faint gleam in his eye. "But next time, you wait for me." His voice dropped, low and deliberate. "Understand?"

Louis met his gaze, his jaw tightening. "The list is done. What now?"

Harry tilted his head, the corner of his mouth tugging up into an amused grin. "What now?" he repeated, chuckling softly. "Why the rush? Don't tell me you're not having fun."

Louis scoffed, his tone cutting. "I'm not—"

"Spare me," Harry cut him off. "You fight better than anyone I've seen. You think faster. You plan better. And I know you love the rush."

Louis bristled, he needed to shift the topic, fast. "The police are after me," he said sharply. "I'm officially Gotham's most wanted, thanks to you."

Harry seemed unbothered, shrugging lightly. "So?"

Louis' eyes widened. "So? That doesn't bother you at all?"

"Why would it?" Harry replied easily. "They can't touch you. Not while you're with me."

"It's not just the police," Louis pressed, exasperated. "It's the criminals too. Anyone who thinks getting to me is a way to get to you. You don't understand—"

"Oh, I understand perfectly," Harry interrupted, his tone flippant. "Let them come."

Louis threw his hands up. "You don't get it!" his voice cracked slightly before he caught himself, glaring at Harry. "I have a target on my back because of you."

Harry huffed out a laugh before his eyes became more serious. "I won't let anyone touch you," he said firmly. His green eyes locked on Louis, unwavering. "Stop worrying that pretty little head of yours. You're safe with me."

Louis exhaled sharply, his frustration rolling off him in waves. His gaze flicked down to the counter, avoiding Harry's eyes, a sulky pout tugging at his features.

Harry leaned closer, tilting his head to study Louis with faint amusement. "Come on," he teased, his voice dipping. "Admit it—you like the chaos. Just a little."

Louis stayed silent, refusing to look up.

Harry chuckled softly, the sound as infuriating as it was captivating. He turned back to his apple, taking another bite with exaggerated care.

"You've got nothing to worry about, sweetheart. Stick with me, and you'll be just fine."

Louis finally glanced up, his expression equal parts exasperated and guarded. "So what now?"

Harry leaned back against the counter, tossing the remnants of the fruit into the trash with a flick of his wrist. "Ah," he drawled. "Now, we solidify."

Louis frowned. "Solidify what?"

"Power," Harry said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He gestured vaguely toward the city skyline outside the window. "With the list handled, the last of the competition is out of the way. No distractions. Time to make sure everyone knows exactly who's in charge."

Louis crossed his arms, leaning slightly against the doorway. "Let me guess—you've got some big dramatic plan to 'send a message'?"

"You know me too well, sweetheart," The Joker said. "But this time, it's not about noise. It's about control. Influence. I have connections to renew, and strings to pull. A chessboard to set."

Louis stared at him, unimpressed. "So... more scheming."

"Scheming," Harry repeated with a mock gasp, placing a hand on his chest. "Such a crude word. Let's call it... restructuring."

Louis rolled his eyes. "Right. Sounds fun for you." He turned to leave the room, but Harry's voice stopped him cold.

"And for you," Harry called after him, his tone lilting, teasing.

Louis paused, shooting him a glare over his shoulder. "I can't wait for this to be over," he muttered before walking off.

Harry's smirk widened, his green eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "You'll come around, sweetheart."

***

The alley was cloaked in shadow, the dim yellow glow of a flickering streetlamp barely breaking through the thick darkness. Louis pulled his coat tighter around him, his breath clouding in the chilly air. The distant hum of the city felt unnervingly quiet here, enough so to emphasise the pounding of his heart. He couldn't help scanning his surroundings as he moved, hyper-aware of every sound and flicker of motion.

Batman was already there, waiting just as they'd planned. He emerged from the deeper shadows, his black gear blending into the night, though his posture was relaxed—at least on the surface.

"You made it," Liam said, his voice low but warm with relief.

"Don't sound so surprised," Louis muttered, stepping closer.

"I wouldn't put it past him to have eyes everywhere," Liam said cautiously, looking over Louis with a sharp, assessing gaze.

Louis offered a humourless laugh, shrugging lightly. "Oh, he does." He leaned against the wall, careful to keep himself half-concealed by the building's edge. His voice dropped. "He's got plans, Liam. Now that the list is done, he's consolidating power. Restructuring, as he puts it."

Liam's expression hardened. "Meaning?"

"Meaning he wants the whole city under his thumb." Louis crossed his arms, keeping his voice low and even. "No one left to challenge him, no loose ends. He's going after anyone who hasn't pledged loyalty or who dares to step out of line."

Liam exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening. "He's shoring up control. That makes him even more dangerous."

Louis nodded. "I know. He's moving pieces like it's all a game of chess, and I have to play along, pretend I'm in it. If we want to take him down, we have to wait until—"

A sharp glint caught his eye—a flicker of movement above. Louis' head snapped up, his gaze darting toward the rooftop across the street.

"What is it?" Liam asked quickly, following his line of sight.

"Nothing," Louis said automatically, though his voice betrayed his doubt. He squinted into the dark, scanning the edges of the building for another sign.

"Louis," Liam pressed.

"There's someone up there," Louis hissed under his breath.

Liam stiffened, stepping slightly in front of him protectively, his hand moving to the concealed weapon at his side. "Are you sure?"

Above them, a billboard flickered, the advert fostering a red font. Louis deflated. 

"I—" Louis hesitated. "I don't know." His eyes scanned the rooftop again, but there was nothing there except the glow of the billboard.

"You're jumpy," Liam said gently, his hand dropping back to his side.

"You would be too," Louis shot back, his tone clipped. He leaned heavily against the wall, running a hand over his face. "I feel like I've got a target on my back. From everyone. Joker, the cops, every thug he's made an enemy of. It's a miracle I'm even here right now."

Liam's expression softened, though the tension in his shoulders didn't leave. "Louis, you're doing good. I know it doesn't feel like it, but this? Getting in close like this? You were right. It's the best way to take him down."

Louis let out a shaky breath. "It's just... hard. Watching him plan it all, acting like I'm part of it."

"You'll hold on," Liam said firmly. "You've got this."

"Do I?" Louis asked, his voice low, almost questioning himself. He shifted, glancing back up at the rooftops, still half-expecting to see that flash of red again.

"You do." Liam's voice left no room for argument. He stepped closer, resting a hand on Louis' shoulder. "We'll get him. And when it's over, you'll have made sure it happens."

Louis stared at him for a moment, then nodded, his throat tight.

Behind him, the rooftops stayed silent, still, but as the two men parted ways, neither noticed the faint shadow that slipped further into the darkness.

***

Louis slipped through the front door, moving with painstaking care to close it without a sound. The faint click of the lock settling into place echoed louder in his mind than it actually was. His pulse quickened as he took a deep breath, his body taut like a drawn bowstring.

He stood still for a moment in the dim entryway, his ears straining to pick up any sound in the apartment. His shoes barely made a sound against the hardwood as he crept farther inside, his gaze scanning every shadow for any sign of movement. His chest tightened when the living room came into view—empty, the air thick with stillness.

Louis walked through the apartment, practically holding his breath. He turned a corner to the kitchen and practically collided with Harry's chest.

"Jesus Christ!" Louis hissed, his voice sharp with surprise. He tried to swallow down the instinctive panic bubbling up. "What are you doing?"

Harry cackled, hands on Louis' shoulders, steadying him. "What are you doing?" he shot back. "It's almost midnight."

Louis swallowed, shaking his head. "Nothing," he muttered. "Just wanted some water." He brushed past Harry to get a glass from the cupboard.

Harry watched him. "You've been avoiding me."

Louis stiffened but managed to hold his ground, tilting his chin slightly. "Not everything's about you, you know." He poured water into the glass. 

"Isn't it?" Harry's smile widened, his closeness disarming. His fingers skimmed the countertop, a casual inch away from Louis' wrist. "Tell me, sweetheart, what's got you wound so tight?"

Louis narrowed his eyes. "You," he said flatly.

Harry's green eyes glinted with playful malice that sent a chill up Louis' spine. "Tell me again that not everything is about me," he teased.

"Don't flatter yourself," Louis shot back, taking a sip of water. His grip on the glass was tight, knuckles white, but his face betrayed nothing.

Harry watched his mouth. "Oh, sweetheart, I don't have to. Not when you're practically radiating tension every time I'm near you," he said. "Now, I wonder why that is?"

"I don't know," Louis replied. "Could it be all of the crimes you've dragged me into? Or the fact that it's your fault the cops are after me. Or that I've got a target on my back for all of Gotham's underworld. You tell me."

Harry hummed thoughtfully, stepping closer, close enough that Louis felt the heat of him. "You handle yourself well, considering. It's almost endearing," he said softly, reaching out to pluck the glass from Louis' hand. 

Louis let him take it but crossed his arms tightly over his chest, watching as Harry downed the last of the water.

Louis went to walk past Harry, but The Joker's arm shot out, grabbing Louis' upper arm and pulling him back.

"What now?" Louis huffed, looking up at Harry with an annoyed expression.

Harry set down the glass. "Just enjoying the view for a second," he muttered. "Stay there."

Louis scoffed. "You've seen the view before," he huffed out.

"Mm, but it gets better every time," Harry hummed, looking Louis over.

Louis shivered under his touch. "You make me sick," he pulled away from Harry's grasp.

Harry turned to watch as Louis walked away. "Careful, sweetheart. You'll hurt my feelings."

"You don't have feelings." Louis turned to leave the kitchen, determined not to give Harry the last word.

Harry called after him, voice honey-slick and teasing, "if I didn't have feelings, why would I bother keeping you around?"

Louis froze for half a second at the doorway but didn't look back. "Beats me," he muttered, disappearing into the hallway before Harry could see the slight tension in his jaw.

Chapter Text

26: Inventories of a Idealist

-----

It had been three weeks since Gotham had come to the brink of crumbling. Three weeks since the blackout. Three weeks since Louis' deal with the Joker.

He'd kept his word, except for running away for a night. He'd followed Harry's every move, tracking down each criminal on the list and helping The Joker serve justice by returning them to prison.

He'd even helped Harry in his most reason plans, though he wasn't entirely sure of the 'bigger picture'. Most of the work just involved keeping tabs on different criminals, ensuring that everything and everyone in Gotham's underworld was moving smoothly, as they should be. Like game pieces on the chessboard where Harry was the only player with free will.

It wasn't without cost. Louis could feel himself fraying at the edges, caught between duty and survival. Harry seemed to enjoy testing his limits, pushing just far enough to make Louis squirm but never enough to make him snap. Not yet.

"You're quiet this morning, kitten."

Louis flinched at the nickname but didn't rise to the bait. "You make me work for three weeks straight, and then wonder why I'm not chatty? Maybe I need a vacation."

Harry, perched lazily at the table with a knife in hand, chuckled. "A vacation. That's adorable. You can take a break after you've outlived your usefulness."

Louis leaned back in his chair, arms folded. "Comforting."

Harry spun the knife between his fingers, watching it like a predator studying its prey. "Don't pout. You're doing good, sweetheart." He slid the knife into the table with a sharp thunk, meeting Louis' eyes with an unnervingly calm expression. "Tomorrow, we're going to the docks. There's a shipment I want my hands on—high-value stuff."

Louis frowned. "Weapons?"

Harry smirked. "Among other things. Your job is to make sure it all runs smoothly."

Louis leaned forward, his tone sharp. "Why me?"

"Because," Harry said simply, leaning back in his chair. "You've seen every part of my operation by now. You know how I work. And—" his grin widened, playful but pointed—"you wouldn't dare mess it up. You like living too much."

Louis' jaw tightened. "What time?"

"Midnight." Harry drummed his fingers on the table. "Get some sleep tonight, kitten. You'll need it."

"Stop calling me that," Louis muttered under his breath.

Harry laughed as he stood, brushing past Louis with a fleeting touch on his shoulder. "Not a chance."

"You know that when I leave I'll have all the names of your employees," Louis said. "All the names of the docks you ship from, all the names of the criminals you work with, where they drop off, where they live. Everything."

Harry glanced across the table to flash Louis a smile. "I'd hope so, sweetheart," he replied. "You wouldn't be doing a very good job for me if you didn't know your stuff."

Louis frowned right back. "That doesn't concern you?" he asked. "That I have all of the information on your operations."

Harry shrugged. "You wouldn't be able to stop them if you tried."

"But I know-"

"Everything," Harry confirmed. "Yes, you do," he continued. "You know where I live too," he gestured to the grand apartment. "But you didn't tell Batman when you ran back home to him, did you?"

Louis blinked. He hadn't. He hadn't even thought about it.

Harry's expression softened when he looked Louis over. "Why didn't you?"

Louis shook his head helplessly. "I don't know," he admitted finally.

Harry smiled at him, but it wasn't his usual vicious smile. This one was softer, kinder. "You don't want to take me down, sweetheart," he told Louis. "Not really," he said. "I make you feel something that no one else ever could."

Louis looked up at him. "And what's that?"

"Alive."

They held eye contact for a moment before Louis looked away.

"Don't get shy on me, sweetheart," Harry whispered. "You make me feel alive too."

***

The alley was dark, bathed in shadow, with the faint hum of the city as its backdrop. Louis' breath clouded in the cold air as he slipped into the narrow passage, his footsteps soft. Liam stood just inside the gloom, his silhouette tall and unwavering, arms crossed against his chest.

"Finally," Liam muttered, his voice low but edged with warmth. "I thought you weren't coming."

Louis shrugged, tucking his hands into his coat pockets. "Had to wait until he fell asleep. He's keeping me on a short leash."

"Good," Liam said, his voice firm. "That means he trusts you."

Louis leaned against the wall, letting the cold brick bite into his back. "He's got a shipment coming in tomorrow night. Docks. Midnight."

Liam's brows drew together sharply. "You sure?"

Louis nodded. "Yeah. He told me himself. High-value stuff—probably weapons. Said my job is to make sure it runs smoothly."

Liam exhaled slowly, processing. "Then that's our way in." He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing. "Can you get him there?"

"Of course."

Liam looked him over. "You're sure? No second thoughts?"

Louis straightened up, his expression hardening as he looked at Liam, confused. "Why would I have second thoughts?"

Liam studied him for a moment too long. "Because I know you," he said finally. "You see the best in people. You don't want to believe he's as bad as he is."

Louis scoffed, shaking his head. "I know who he is. I've been living with him, remember?"

"Do you?" Liam's voice softened, though the edge of his concern remained. "I know it's hard being in there, seeing it up close. It messes with your head. Makes you see things that aren't there—like a heart he doesn't have."

Louis' jaw tightened, but he didn't respond.

Liam stepped closer, his voice dropping into something gentler. "Remember, Louis: he's not like you. There's nothing to save. Don't let him get inside your head."

Louis' throat felt tight, the words slow to form. "I'm not. This is just a mission. I'll get him there."

"Good." Liam clapped him on the shoulder, his grip firm. "Once he's there, it's out of your hands. GCPD will be waiting, SWAT too. Once we've got him cornered, it's straight to Arkham."

Straight to Arkham.

Louis nodded stiffly, swallowing down the knot in his stomach. "I'll get him there."

Liam didn't smile but rested a hand on his brother's shoulder again, squeezing lightly. "You're doing the right thing."

"Right," Louis murmured. "The right thing."

***

The wind bit sharp and cold as Louis stepped onto the rooftop of The Joker's apartment, drawn by the faint sound of movement. Harry stood near the edge, his silhouette bathed in silver moonlight, arms loose at his sides.

"You're not usually the quiet type," Louis remarked, his voice carrying across the open air. "What is it? Admiring the city you want to burn to the ground?"

Harry didn't flinch, his head tilting slightly as if considering the comment. "I didn't always want to burn it."

Louis hesitated at the edge of the roof before moving closer, his steps deliberate. "What changed?"

Harry's lips twitched into a faint, humourless smile. "It burned me first."

Louis stopped a few feet away, crossing his arms. "You really believe that? Or is that just easier to tell yourself?"

Harry's gaze lingered on the skyline, his voice losing its sharp edge. "It's not about what I believe. It's about what Gotham taught me." His fingers flexed slightly, pressing against the cold concrete ledge. "You play by the rules here, and it chews you up. There's no safety net, no second chances. You fight, or you lose everything."

The wind bit harder as silence crept in again, stretching between them like a taut wire.

"I thought you thrived on the chaos," Louis said at last, his voice quieter now.

Harry let out a low chuckle, barely audible. "Thrived on it?" His lips quirked in amusement. "Maybe. But it wasn't my first choice." He turned slightly, green eyes darker, subdued. "You have this idea, sweetheart, that people choose to be monsters. But sometimes, it's all that's left."

Louis' brow furrowed. For a second, Harry looked smaller somehow—less like The Joker, more like a man.

"Don't tell me this is regret," Louis said, not unkindly.

Harry's grin returned, faint and barbed. "Regret? No. Just a reminder. Gotham eats everyone alive."

Louis' voice softened. "Not everyone."

Harry chuckled again, a little more alive this time. He turned fully toward Louis, resting his back against the ledge. "When I was a kid, Gotham wasn't kind. Not to me, not to anyone." He tapped the concrete with his fingers. "I learned pretty quickly no one's coming to save you. If you want to survive, you take control—of everything and everyone."

Louis didn't know what to say.

Harry's gaze shifted back to him, his smile was still there but it was softer now, almost fragile. "It's funny, isn't it? You're trying to save Gotham, and I'm just trying to make it kneel. We make quite the pair."

For a moment, Louis just watched Harry closely, the edges of his usually sharp expression softening just enough to unsettle him.

"Don't look so serious, kitten," Harry teased, though his voice lacked its usual venom. "You're ruining the moment."

The air between them felt heavy like neither was willing to break the moment.

"You don't have to keep doing this," Louis said finally, his voice quieter now.

Harry arched a brow. "You sound just like them."

"Them?"

Harry waved a hand vaguely. "The ones who think saving people like me will somehow save themselves." The sharpness of his grin returned like an armour. He stepped closer, his voice dipping. "Don't try to save me, sweetheart. You'll only disappoint yourself."

Louis bit the inside of his cheek, the words bubbling up before he could think better of them. He opened his mouth, but his voice caught on the cusp.

Harry straightened slightly, his eyes narrowing just a fraction, watching Louis intently.

"You want to tell me something," Harry said after a moment. His voice was soft, stripped of any mocking edge. His head tilted again, his gaze inquisitive. For a heartbeat, it was like he was inviting Louis to continue.

Louis hesitated, his throat tight, guilt clawing at him like a physical weight. His jaw shifted, tension visible in the slight clench of muscle.

Louis bit his lip, the words rushing up before he could stop them. "Tomorrow. There's something you—" he froze, swallowing thickly.

Harry's head tilted slightly, a flicker of curiosity in his expression. "Something...?"

Louis' chest ached. "What time are we heading to the docks?"

Harry studied him for a long moment, the silence stretching between them, thick and heavy. Then he smiled, his voice slipping back into its usual taunting lilt. "Midnight, sweetheart. "

Louis swallowed. "Does it have to be midnight?" he asked instead, forcing the words out as naturally as he could.

Harry didn't answer immediately. His eyes flicked over Louis, calculating, waiting for more. Louis held his ground, though he felt like he might crack under the weight of that unwavering stare.

A shadow of something unreadable flickered across Harry's face—disappointment, perhaps, or something close to it. But when he finally responded, his smile returned, soft but laced with quiet understanding.

"Midnight's when the fun starts," Harry said lightly, though his gaze lingered a fraction too long, searching for the words Louis didn't say.

Louis shifted, taking a step back. "I guess I'd better get some sleep, then."

Harry's smile didn't waver, but the silence that followed carried a weight neither of them acknowledged. "Goodnight, Louis," he said finally, his voice softer than usual, almost... thoughtful.

Louis didn't correct him, just nodded, turning slowly toward the door. The stillness pressed heavily on his back, Harry's presence palpable even as the distance grew. He stopped once, just briefly, before pushing through the door without looking back.

Behind him, Harry stayed rooted by the ledge, staring out over the city. A faint exhale escaped him, almost a sigh before he rested his elbows on the concrete, his face half-bathed in shadow.

Chapter Text

27: Paranoia of a Provocateur

-----

It was close to midnight when Harry veered off their usual path, his pace purposeful and unwavering.

Louis frowned as he trailed behind, glancing around the unfamiliar surroundings. The corridor was lit dimly, the hum of machinery audible beneath their footsteps.

"Where are we going now?" Louis asked, his voice subdued but edged with irritation.

Harry didn't slow down, tossing a casual answer over his shoulder. "A little stop at my warehouse," he replied nonchalantly. "I need to check on something. Won't take long."

Louis' pulse quickened as he followed The Joker through the darkened corridors of the warehouse. He could sense the shift in the air—Harry was acting differently today. The easy, playful tone was gone, replaced by something colder. Something more dangerous. Something was off—Harry's silence, the shift in his demeanour. It all felt wrong.

"Where are you taking me?" Louis asked, trying to keep his voice steady but couldn't hide the nervous edge creeping into it. Every step felt heavier than the last.

Harry didn't answer immediately. Instead, he kept walking, his long strides echoing through the hallways. The silence stretched out between them, thick and suffocating. Louis' mind raced, wondering what Harry was planning and if this was the moment he'd finally be pushed too far.

Harry stopped as they reached a door, turning to face Louis with a look that made his blood run cold. The Joker's smile was thin and too sharp, and his eyes gleamed with something unsettling. He seemed almost amused.

"You've been distracted, Robin," Harry said, his voice light, teasing, but there was an undercurrent of disappointment that sent a shiver down Louis' spine. "Sneaking around behind my back again?" he asked. "I thought we were past that."

Louis swallowed, his throat dry. His first instinct was to deny it, but Harry could see through him. He always could. "I—no. I wasn't—"

Harry raised a hand, cutting him off. "Don't lie. I know what you've been up to. You've been trying to sneak off to report to him, haven't you? To your precious Batman."

Louis' stomach twisted. Shit. He had been careful, but it wasn't enough. Harry must have caught him slipping away at some point. His heart hammered in his chest.

"I wasn't sneaking off," Louis said quickly, trying to cover his tracks, but the guilt was written all over him. "I was just—just thinking. About Gotham. About what you want."

Harry's grin widened, but it wasn't kind. "Oh, I know what you're thinking. But don't worry, sweetheart. I'm not mad, I'm just..." his grin vanished, "disappointed."

Louis' stomach dropped. He opened his mouth, his voice cracking as he tried to recover.  "I—I can do better. I will. Just tell me what you want, and I'll—"

Harry cut him off, his voice darkening. "I think you've forgotten what happens when you disappoint me, Robin," he muttered. "Maybe you need a reminder."

Louis' heart skipped a beat. The air around them seemed to thicken, and every instinct screamed that something bad was coming. He took a step back, trying to regain control of the situation. "What do you mean?"

Harry took a deliberate step toward him, his smile back. "Let me show you," he said, his voice almost playful again, but the tension was palpable. "I brought you a present, sweetheart."

He motioned to the men standing behind him, and Louis' eyes followed their movements as they opened the door and stepped aside.

Liam's unconscious form was limp, bound, and completely at the mercy of Harry's men.

"No!" Louis shouted, his voice raw with fear, but before he could move, two of Harry's henchmen grabbed him by the shoulder, holding him back.

Harry stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Do you like what I've brought you?" he said, his tone almost teasing. "It's a little reminder of how easily I can take away everything that you care about."

Louis struggled against the grip on his arm, his chest tight with panic. "You can't—don't—don't touch him," he pleaded, his voice breaking.

He couldn't breathe. The sight of Liam in this state was tearing him apart.

Harry's smirk widened as he looked at the two henchmen holding Liam still. One had a knife in hand, the blade glinting coldly in the low light. Louis' stomach turned at the sight of it, the threat was sharp and real.

"You thought you could play both sides, didn't you?" Harry murmured, his tone quiet but full of menace. "Thought you could help me and still cling to the idea that you're saving Gotham? It doesn't work that way, sweetheart."

Louis' heart hammered in his chest. "I—I've stayed. I haven't run since. I've—please, just let him go," he begged, but Harry wasn't listening.

"Oh, I'll let him go," Harry said softly, but his eyes were cold. "But only when you prove you're fully mine. When you stop pretending you can still be the hero."

Louis opened his mouth, but no words came out. The weight of what Harry was asking—what he was forcing him to decide—was too much. Harry held up a hand and the henchman pressed the blade closer to Liam's throat.

"No!" Louis exclaimed. "Call them off- just wait, please."

Louis could see the tension in Harry's men as they waited for the signal. Harry just grinned at him.

"I've kept my word!" Louis' voice cracked with frustration and fear.

Harry tilted his head, studying Louis. "Oh, Robin. You don't get it, do you?" his voice lowered, dripping with dark amusement. "You haven't given me everything," he said. "And I'm a man who wants it all."

Louis felt himself unravelling inside. He could hear Liam's breathing, shallow and ragged, but it wasn't enough. His brother's life was slipping away with every passing second.

The Joker stepped back, motioning to his men. "One word from me, Robin. One word... and he's gone. Just like that," he clicked his fingers.

Louis felt the walls close in on him. His mind screamed for him to fight, to refuse, but the weight of Liam's life pressing against his conscience was too much.

The world seemed to stop. He couldn't let Liam die. He couldn't—

"What do you want me to do?" Louis whispered, his voice breaking. His eyes on the knife pressed to Liam's throat.

Harry's grin stretched wider, satisfied. "Good boy, Robin. Now we're getting somewhere."

He motioned to his henchmen, who immediately released their hold on Liam, allowing him to slump to the floor in a heap. The knife, glinting under the harsh lighting, was withdrawn for now. Harry leaned back, surveying the scene with a look of twisted satisfaction.

"You've done well so far," Harry said, circling Louis like a predator sizing up its prey. "But this little game of ours? It's far from over."

Louis couldn't tear his eyes away from Liam's unconscious form. I'm doing this to save him, he told himself. Just this once. Just for him.

Harry's voice pulled him back to the present. "No, no. You're going to prove it. Prove that you belong to me, Robin. Completely," he continued, stepping closer. His voice dropped to a low whisper, almost coaxing.

Louis swallowed, his throat dry. "What does that mean?"

Harry chuckled, amused by Louis' confusion. "I'm starting to see the real potential in you. You've stuck around, you've helped me," he listed on his gloved fingers. "You're becoming a part of my world. Slowly."

Louis stood still, trying to suppress the unease crawling up his spine. Every part of him screamed that this wasn't over, that Harry wasn't done with him yet.

Harry's gaze never wavered. "But I'm a patient man, and right now? I don't think one month is enough," he leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice just enough for Louis to hear the twisted affection in it. "I want you, Robin. Fully. No more running. No more slipping away. I need you on my side, for the long haul."

Louis felt the words hit him like a punch to the gut. The long haul? He couldn't even begin to imagine what that meant. A month was one thing—he could see an end to it, a way out, but this?

"No more tricks," Harry continued, as if reading his thoughts. "No more pretending you're still some hero. You help me now, or... well, let's just say the consequences are far worse than keeping Gotham in the dark for a few hours."

Louis shook his head slightly, trying to keep the panic from rising. "What do you mean? I've done everything! I've stayed with you. I've helped you."

"I'm going to sweeten the deal," Harry said, his voice almost sweet too, but the promise of something darker hung in the air. "The rules are changing now. The terms are shifting and you're going to have to prove you're all in."

Louis' stomach turned. "What more can I do?"

Harry stopped pacing, turning slowly to face him. "I told you. No more games, Robin. No pretending you're still Gotham's hero. You're mine now. Fully."

Louis' heart was pounding in his chest. "But I've already—what do you mean by fully?" he tried to steady his voice, but the words felt like sand slipping through his fingers.

"You've got skills, Robin. Talent. And you've got a fire inside you," Harry said, his voice almost conspiratorial now. "I want you to help me with my next mission. A mission that'll test your loyalty, your commitment to me. I'll make sure Batman's little world stays nice and quiet but you'll need to stay with me. I'll need to know you're really mine."

Louis' mind was spinning. He couldn't think straight—his head was full of visions of Liam, of the knife, of Harry's men, of the pressure building in every corner of this twisted game he was trapped in.

"Stay with you?" Louis echoed, his voice hoarse. "For how long?"

Harry's grin was all teeth now. "For as long as it takes, Robin," his eyes flicked to Liam, still unconscious on the floor. "I keep my promises. You'll get him back, alive and breathing, but only if you prove you're in this. All in."

Louis could feel the bile rising in his throat. He was being cornered—again. Every word Harry spoke pulled him further into The Joker's world. His brother's life was hanging in the balance and every choice Louis made only seemed to tighten the ropes around his neck.

"I've been good," Louis murmured, almost as if pleading with Harry, though he knew it was futile. "This wasn't the deal," he choked out, eyes wide. "You tricked me."

Liam's words danced in his head. 'You actually believe him? You think he's going to let you walk away after that?'

Harry practically scoffed. "I tricked you?" he asked incredulously. "You're the one slipping through shadows, whispering secrets to him while pretending that you're mine."

He raised a hand to his henchmen and the knife was back at Liam's neck, pressing.

Louis darted forward, but hands were holding him back. "No!" he shrieked. "Wait! No, stop! Stop it!"

Harry watched him struggle. "Last chance, Robin," he said firmly. "All in."

Louis nodded immediately. "Anything," he rushed out. "I'll do it!" he promised. "Just stop!"

Harry waited a moment, watching him for a few seconds before lowering his hand. The man stopped immediately, moving the knife away from Liam. Louis was panting, desperately trying to claw himself from the grasp of the men holding him.

"Say it," The Joker pressed. "Tell me you're all in."

"I'm all in," the words burst out of him. "All yours."

Harry grinned, violent and sickening. "Yes," he whispered, taking Louis' hand. "Yes, you are."

The henchmen let go of him.

Louis tensed in Harry's touch but let the villain pull him closer. Louis was breathing hard and shaking, and he couldn't look Harry in the eyes.

The Joker raised his hand, removing his glove and reaching his bare fingers to stroke Louis' cheek. "Look at me," he whispered. His fingers went to Louis' chin, forcing their eyes to meet; Louis' teary blue watching Harry's stern green.

Louis' breath hitched, stiff in Harry's grip. He looked away but Harry held him tightly. "Please," Robin whispered.

Harry observed him, tilting his head. "Take him away," he commanded, his eyes not leaving Louis'. "Don't harm him, put him somewhere safe."

Louis swallowed, eyes glancing to the men who were now hoisting Liam up and carrying him out of the room. Louis struggled in Harry's grasp, trying to catch a glimpse of Liam as he was whisked away.

"Eyes on me," The Joker said firmly.

"I just-"

Harry cut him off. "You had your goodbyes three weeks ago," he said firmly. "Hope you made the most of it."

Louis squeezed his eyes shut, unable to stop a stray tear from trickling down his cheek. Harry cooed mockingly, wiping Louis' cheek.

"There there, little bird," he whispered. "You're okay," he muttered, pulling Louis close and wrapping his eyes around the boy. He rocked him gently, almost tauntingly. "You're safe with me."

Louis couldn't help the sob that tore from his throat, his whole body tense. He knew that he'd signed his life away, it was as good as gone now and, to Batman, he was as good as dead.

Harry rubbed his back. "You're safe," he repeated. "You're all mine."

Louis cried harder.

***

Louis stood outside Harry's office, his hand hovering over the door handle. He was reluctant and uncertain but he knew this conversation needed to happen.

The deal was made, but there were too many loose ends and unspoken promises between them. His mind raced as he considered everything—the cost of it all, the price of his silence, the uncertainty of what came next.

He knocked, the sound sharp and final in the silence.

"Come in."

The voice that came through the door was smooth, but there was something laced in it—expectation, authority. Louis turned the handle, stepping into the room.

Harry was sitting behind his desk, but he didn't look up. His fingers drummed rhythmically on the surface, the soft click of the nails against the wood like a warning. The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of a desk lamp. The air was thick with tension, the quiet of the night pressing in from all sides.

Louis hesitated for just a moment before walking in. "We need to talk," he said, his voice steady, though there was an edge of something else beneath it.

Harry finally looked up, his green eyes flashing in the dim light. His lips curled into a lazy smile that didn't reach his eyes. He studied Louis for a moment before he spoke, the words wrapped in something sharp. "About what?"

Louis stepped forward, his hands at his sides, his gaze never leaving Harry. "About the terms," he said, the words deliberate, measured. "What's the deal?"

Harry's smile widened just slightly, but his posture didn't shift. He leaned back in his chair, his fingers laced behind his head. "The deal's already been made," he said. "No room for add-ons," he stated. "And it's too late to back out."

Louis shook his head. "I'm not," he said quickly. "I'm not backing out."

Harry's tilted his head. "No?" he questioned and Louis shook his head again. Harry stood at this, walking to the front of his desk with slow, measured steps before beckoning Louis closer. "Then what do we need to talk about?"

Louis stepped closer, making his way over to Harry. "You let him go?" he asked gently. "Batman, he's safe?"

"Ah," Harry said, a grin gripping his lips. "That's what this is about."

Louis nodded. "Is he?"

Harry took in Louis, every inch of him, savouring the look of worry in his eyes. "For now," he answered finally. "Tucked up in bed with nothing more than a headache and bruised ego, I imagine."

"And how do I keep it that way?" Louis asked immediately.

Harry's hand shot out, grabbing Louis' arm and tugging him forward. Louis stumbled into Harry's chest.

"Hey—" Louis started, but the words caught in his throat as Harry's hand went to his hip. "What are you-"

The Joker held him steady, his fingers dipping into the side of Louis' trousers. Louis' breath hitched and his hand curled around Harry's shoulder for support.

The contact felt uncomfortably intimate.

Harry pulled out the slim communicator that had been tucked against Louis' hip, holding it up between them. The small device caught the dim light.

"Careless," Harry drawled. He turned the device in his fingers. "We wouldn't want you... calling anyone important, now would we?"

Louis stared at him, eyes wide. He wanted to protest, to explain—but any words felt futile under the weight of Harry's piercing gaze. Harry tucked the device into his desk drawer and locked it away before placing the key in his pocket. Louis swallowed.

The Joker raised an eyebrow. "Now," he began. "What are you asking of me?"

Louis' eyes were desperate. "You need to leave him alone," he replied. "Stop going after him, don't hurt him-"

"You're asking an awful lot, sweetheart," Harry replied

Louis' reply was sharp. "So are you!"

Harry looked amused. "Say I stop," he muttered, eyeing Louis. "Say I don't go after him," he continued. "What will you give me in return?"

"Anything," Louis rushed out. "I'll never try to run from you," his voice was firm but strained. 

Harry's gaze flickered, sharp and calculating. His eyes gleamed, his lips curling ever so slightly as he leaned closer. "You'll never run?" he asked, the challenge lingering in his tone, testing.

"I promise," Louis said, his voice quiet, almost pleading.

Harry's brow furrowed as he leaned in a little, almost as if he was inspecting Louis for any trace of a lie. His gaze was intense, unwavering.

"You'll leave him alone?" Harry pressed, his voice lower now. "You'll never speak about him? Never try to find him? Never even think about him?"

Louis swallowed, his chest tight. "Harry, I promise!" There was desperation in Louis' voice; he was begging.

Harry softened, just a fraction, tilting his head as he studied Louis. He seemed to think on it, eyeing Robin for any glimmer of insincerity.

"Is that a deal?" Louis asked, his voice tentative but hopeful.

"Seal it with a kiss?"

Louis looked at him, scanning Harry's face for any hint of mockery, any indication that his words were a joke, but there was no humour in his eyes.

Louis only hesitated for a moment before he leant into Harry, pressing their lips together almost desperately. There was a promise in that kiss, they both could feel it.

Harry's fingers held Louis' chin; firm hands pressing gentle skin, keeping him there as their lips pressed together.

For a moment, everything was blurred—the pain, the tension, the world outside. There was only this kiss, this exchange of promises that neither of them could put into words.

Finally, Harry pulled back, but his fingers didn't leave Louis' chin. He held him there, just a little longer, his thumb tracing over Louis' bottom lip, his gaze never leaving Louis.

"Deal."

Louis breathed out a sigh, still looking at Harry, tracing his eyes for a lie. There was no lie; Harry held eye contact with him, soft and sincere until Louis looked away. Harry let go of his chin and Louis pulled back.

"Thank you," Louis' eyes were downcast, almost ashamed. His lips were red and his cheeks a soft pink.

Harry smiled "No, thank you."

Chapter Text

28: Fortunes of a Fool

-----

The cool air of the Gotham docks clung to Liam as he moved in the shadows. His cape brushed silently against the crates stacked along the perimeter, his footsteps purposeful. The meeting with Commissioner Gordon, head of the SWAT team and Detective Mallory had ended minutes earlier and everyone was in their designated places to bring down The Joker for good. The clock ticked toward 11:30 pm and every instinct screamed for vigilance.

Batman pressed a gloved hand against the comm at his ear. "Still nothing," he murmured.

Niall's calm voice swiftly responded, "Keep an eye on your surroundings. If Joker's planning something, it won't be obvious."

Liam's lips twitched faintly in agreement. But then, a sound—a faint scuff of boots—drew his attention.

He spun too late.

An impact hit him square in the chest—a sharp blast of gas dispersing as he instinctively held his breath. Grappling wires snared his wrists and yanked him backwards, toppling him to the ground.

Through the haze of smoke, figures loomed. Joker's henchmen, faces obscured by masks and grins that mirrored their master's madness.

Liam twisted against the bindings, his strength pulling him halfway upright before the second canister was thrown. This time, the gas seeped deeper into his lungs. The edges of his vision blurred and his movements grew sluggish.

He fell back.

"Lights out, Batman," one of them jeered before everything went dark.

***

The sharp smell of oil and concrete hit Liam like a slap when his senses began to return. Cold metal against his wrists, stiffness in his shoulders—he was bound to a chair.

"Rise and shine," came the voice, lilting and twisted with mockery.

Liam's eyes fluttered open, blurry images sharpening into Harry's painted smile. The Joker leaned forward, his green eyes glittering under the dim overhead bulb.

"Oh, Batsy, what took you so long?"

Liam's jaw tensed. "Joker." His voice was hoarse but steady. "What do you want?"

Joker's grin widened, his face mere inches away now. "Oh, not much," he drawled. "Just a fun little wager I'm cooking up. You'll love it, I promise—it's theatrical!" He gestured wildly before lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "What do you think your dear Robin would pick? Hmm?"

Liam's heart lurched.

Harry's smile sharpened. "Here's the game, Bats. His loyalty? Or his morality?" He leaned back lazily, tilting his head to study Liam. "Your life? Or his?"

"What are you talking about?" Liam demanded, pulling at the restraints.

Joker rolled his eyes. "Oh, don't pretend, Batman. We both know what this is. Your goodie-two-shoes protege? The one whispering in shadows about saving Gotham while pretending to work for me? He's split. Torn. And tonight... I fix that."

Liam surged forward, the chair dragging slightly, but the bonds held tight. "You won't break him," he snapped.

Joker's laughter echoed in the space, sharp and high-pitched. "Oh, I already have! But that's not the fun part. See, breaking someone? That's just foreplay. The real art is making them choose to stay broken," his voice dipped dangerously low. "And he will. For you."

Liam's fists clenched, the ropes biting into his skin. "If you touch him—"

"I don't need to touch him, Batsy," Joker cooed, delight oozing from every word. "All I need is the idea of you... dangling between life and death."

Harry checked his watch and smiled. He motioned with his hands and one of his men stepped forward, holding a syringe.

"No—" Liam thrashed, but the needle slid into his arm. The drugs acted fast, pulling him down into darkness.

"Night-night, old friend," Harry sang, crouching to meet Liam's fading gaze. "By the time you wake up... well," he smiled, his teeth gleaming. "Your little bird will already belong to me."

***

The familiar hum of the Batmobile's engine greeted Liam before his consciousness fully returned. His body slumped in the driver's seat, muscles stiff, his mind foggy.

The dashboard blinked softly, the glow of the internal computer lighting up the vehicle.

Then there was tapping on the window of the car, desperate and insistent.

"Liam!" It was Niall's voice; strained, yet composed. "Are you alright?"

Batman groaned, rubbing at his temple. "How did I—?" he fumbled for the door, opening it up.

Niall knelt outside the car, levelling with Liam. "The Batmobile returned to the cave on autopilot," he explained. "Seems like Joker's men intended for you to be... delivered back."

Delivered. The word rang in Liam's mind like an alarm.

He bolted upright. Memories returned in flashes—the docks, the ambush, Joker's taunts in the warehouse. And then...

"Louis." His voice dropped into a growl.

Niall hesitated. "What about him?"

Liam's mind raced. Joker's sick words reverberated—What do you think your dear Robin would pick? Your life? Or his? The implication landed like a punch.

"Louis," he whispered, his stomach twisting. He shoved the steering wheel, the force rocking the seat. "Damn it!"

"Hey," Niall interjected. "I need you to focus. What happened?"

Liam's voice shook with suppressed anger. "It's Louis. Joker's forced his hand. Whatever happened while I was out—Louis... he made a deal."

Niall's voice softened. "Another deal?" he asked. "What kind?"

Liam's fist curled, slamming against the dashboard. "This wasn't the plan. It wasn't—" His voice faltered as reality sank in. "I keep losing him."

Niall hesitated for a moment before shutting the door, walking around to the other side and climbing into the car.

"What are you-?"

"We're going to go get him back," Niall said firmly.

Liam nodded slowly, starting up the car and shooting off into the inky darkness. Liam's mind worked furiously, building up a plan in his mind, starting at the docks. There was one inescapable truth that clawed at his brain:

Joker had Louis. And this time, it wasn't just Gotham at stake, it was Louis' soul.

***

The apartment had been unusually quiet for days. After the chaos of recent events, Harry unexpectedly declared that Louis deserved some 'downtime'.

"Relax, sweetheart," he'd said with a faint smirk, gesturing toward Louis' room. "I'm not a complete monster. You should rest."

Louis wasn't sure he believed him but, true to his word, The Joker hadn't dragged him into any schemes or put him in any life-threatening situations all week. It almost felt normal—if normal meant stewing in a hideout with the most dangerous man in Gotham.

Louis lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. The solitude did little to calm his racing thoughts. The words from their last confrontation—Harry's demands, the weight of his brother's life hanging in the balance, their kiss—lingered like a ghost he couldn't shake.

When the door creaked open, Louis sat up instantly, his body tense. Harry leaned casually against the doorframe, his green eyes brighter than they had been in days.

"Rest time's over, sweetheart," Harry said with a faint smile. "Thought I'd come deliver the bad news personally."

Louis swung his legs over the side of the bed, his posture tense. "You have the worst bedside manners."

"Can't be good at everything," Harry quipped. His grin faded as he glanced around. "Come on, Robin. Up you get. Stretch those legs. I don't like having serious conversations in cramped spaces."

Louis hesitated before standing, his muscles coiled like springs. He followed Harry out into the kitchen, his steps slow and wary.

The room was dimly lit, and the faint hum of Gotham's streets buzzed outside the window. Harry sauntered over to the counter, trailing a hand along its surface. He gestured for Louis to sit at the stools, but Louis stayed where he was, standing stiffly near the edge of the room.

Harry sighed dramatically, pushing himself off the counter. His eyes narrowed slightly as he tilted his head, studying Louis like a puzzle. "Loosen up, sweetheart. Life with me isn't all bad."

Louis crossed his arms, his gaze steady. "What do you want?"

Harry's grinned again, predatory and playful all at once. He closed the distance between them in two strides, stopping just short of crowding Louis.

"You've had your rest," he said. "Now it's back to business."

Louis looked unimpressed. "What now?" he asked. "Let me guess? Killing pilots? Terrorising the city? Oh, I know! Splitting up orphans from the only family they have left." His glare was so relentless that Harry was almost impressed.

"How about helping orphans reach their full potential?" The Joker offered.

Louis scoffed. "How about get on with it before I leave," he shot back, taking a step towards the door almost threateningly.

Harry tutted at him, stepping closer. "Oh no, sweetheart," he said. "No running, remember?" he added. "That's our deal. That was your promise."

Louis' nose twitched, but his face remained neutral.

Harry's hand reached out for his wrist, always his wrist. Louis pulled away at first but The Joker's grip was firm and insistent. Something in his gaze said no running. Louis stilled and Harry ran his thumb over Louis' pulse point, a strange intimacy in the gesture.

"I'm curious," Harry started. "What was the plan, anyway, sweetheart?" he asked. His thumb rubbed circles into Louis' skin. "Lock me up in Arkham again? Toss away the key and hope for the best?"

Louis tensed under his touch, trying to yank his wrist again but Harry tightened his grip.

The Joker chuckled low, the sound rumbling in his chest. "Hope I wouldn't tear through those walls to get back to you?" he questioned. "You think I wouldn't go through every guard in there? All the king's horses and all the king's men, just to reach you."

Louis finally wrenched his arm free, glaring up at Harry with a mix of anger and confusion. "Why?" he demanded, his voice raw. "Why me? What is it with me?"

Harry tilted his head, the humour slipping from his expression. His gaze turned contemplative, almost tender, in a way that set Louis' teeth on edge.

"I've told you before," Harry said, stepping back but not breaking eye contact. "Breaking you would be my masterpiece. All that fire inside you? Watching it go out would be beautiful."

Louis' stomach churned, but Harry wasn't done.

"But keeping you all to myself?" Harry's voice dipped lower, taking on an almost reverent tone. "Having all that fire burning just for me? Well, that's something else entirely."

Louis stared at him, his jaw tight. When he finally spoke, his voice was steady, sharp with defiance. "Let's get one thing straight," he said, taking a step closer.

Harry raised a brow, clearly intrigued.

Louis' hands clenched at his sides. "I'll work for you. I'll follow orders if it means keeping the people I care about safe. But don't get this twisted—it'll never make me yours."

Harry's grin widened, but this time, it wasn't mocking. It was something else, something darker, quieter like he was savouring Louis' anger.

"That fire?" Louis continued. "That burns in spite of you."

"Careful, Robin," Harry said, his voice low and amused.

"I am not yours," Louis bit out, his voice firm. "And I never will be."

Harry chuckled softly, leaning in just enough to make the air between them heavy. "Oh, sweetheart," he murmured, his breath warm against Louis' cheek. "Keep telling yourself that."

Louis turned his head to look away. His face prickled with heat as Harry pulled away from him. He was angry, furious at the suggestion, at the stupid deal he'd made, at the fact that Harry's lips were so close to his own. At the fact that they'd kissed and at the fact that he couldn't seem to shake that feeling of being owned by Harry's lips.

It was Harry who spoke up, tearing Louis from the war inside his mind.

"Your little bat intervention the other night had some... unintended consequences," he said cooly.

Louis frowned, still not looking at Harry. "What are you talking about?"

The Joker tilted his head. "The Brighton Syndicate got their grubby little hands on some of my best merchandise," he explained.

Robin looked up at this. "The Brighton Syndicate?" he repeated, narrowing his eyes. "They're small-time. No way they pulled something like that on their own."

Harry's smirk widened, his gaze sparking with amusement. "Smart boy. They didn't. My guess? Someone tipped them off. Gave them just enough leverage to slip through while you and I were playing chess."

Louis' stomach sank. He exhaled slowly, trying to process. "What's in the shipment? You said weapons, what else?"

"Curious, are we?" Harry teased, but when Louis shot him a glare, his smirk faltered slightly. "Fine," he continued. "Some high-grade weapons, encrypted tech files—things the Brighton boys won't understand but will absolutely try to use."

"Encrypted files?" Louis frowned deeper.

Harry's grin widened again. "Oh, now you're interested."

"You want me to track them down, don't you?" Louis pressed.

Harry leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to something smoother, almost coaxing. "It's not just tracking them down, darling. It's tying up loose ends. You're good at that."

Louis hesitated, his chest tightening. "You mean neutralise them."

"Yes. I want those files and weapons back. Intact," The Joker replied. "Do what you do best, Robin. Get those weapons off the streets."

Louis let out a sharp breath, shaking his head. "You really want me to believe you care about keeping Gotham safe?"

Harry grinned. "Safe?" he repeated, voice low and playful. "No, sweetheart. You care about that. I care about order. This mess? It's just bad for business."

Louis stepped back, ready to leave.

"You're forgetting something," Harry interrupted, causing Louis to halt. "Or, rather, someone."

***

The darkened warehouse sat nestled on Gotham's outskirts, its towering walls smeared with graffiti and shadows. The Brighton Syndicate's symbol—an abstract scrawl vaguely resembling a lighthouse—was painted in fading red across the loading dock doors. Robin crouched low behind a stack of rusted crates on the opposite rooftop, his eyes scanning the activity below.

"Four on the door, three patrolling outside," Robin muttered, barely above a whisper. His earpiece crackled faintly with the quiet response.

"That's a lot of firepower for small-time amateurs," Harley quipped from the rooftop opposite. He perched on the edge with a surprising stillness, a lithe figure clad in black and red. His face glowed faintly in the dim moonlight as he grinned down at the chaos. "Looks like they've upgraded, huh?"

Robin lowered his binoculars, glancing toward Harley. His tone was clipped. "You think?"

"I mean, it's cute," Harley continued, tapping a black-gloved finger against his chin. "A bunch of nobodies playing mob boss with Joker's toys. Almost makes you feel bad for crashing their little playdate."

"We're not crashing anything," Robin replied, his voice firm. "Not yet. There are too many of them. Our job is to track them and figure out who they're working with. Not to start a war."

Harley tilted his head, the faintest hint of a pout on his lips. "Boring."

Robin ignored him, turning back to the scene below. The Brighton Syndicate was unloading crates from a black van parked at the warehouse entrance. Their movements were quick but methodical, their chatter faint but animated. The stolen shipment was there—no doubt about it.

"You think they know what's in those crates?" Harley mused, shifting slightly. "Or are they just happy to have something shiny and dangerous to play with?"

Robin didn't answer immediately, his eyes narrowing as one of the gang members motioned to someone deeper inside the warehouse. A second later, another figure emerged—taller, broader, and flanked by two armed men. Their boss, Robin guessed.

"I don't know, but they've got muscle," Robin muttered. "We can't take them head-on. Not without backup."

Harley chuckled softly, the sound barely audible over the faint hum of the warehouse generators. "You say that like your bat-buddy's just a comms call away."

Robin stiffened, glancing toward Harley sharply. The other man's grin widened.

"What?" Harley said innocently, tilting his head. "Cat got your tongue, little bird?"

"How long have you known?" Robin asked, his voice low but laced with tension.

Harley's grin didn't falter. "About your secret little rendezvous? Long enough."

Robin's jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists. "It was you, wasn't it?" he snapped, more of a statement than a question. "You told him!"

Harley finally shifted, pushing up from his crouch and stretching lazily. "Of course I told him," he replied, his tone almost cheerful. "What kind of right-hand would I be if I kept something like that from him?"

Robin's glare could've burned holes through steel. "You followed me!" he accused. "You had no right—"

"No right?" Harley interrupted, arching an eyebrow. "Oh, birdie, you're adorable. Walking around like some double agent, playing nice with Joker while feeding crumbs to your bat-buddy. Did you really think no one would notice?"

"I was careful," Robin shot back.

Harley barked out a laugh. "Clearly not careful enough."

Robin exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. "Why do you even care?"

Harley leaned forward slightly, his grin softening into something almost curious. "Care? I don't. Not really. But Mister J? Oh, he cares," Harley's eyes glinted in the low light. "You should've just come clean, birdy. Would've saved yourself a lot of trouble."

Robin looked away, his stomach twisting. "You don't understand."

"No, you don't understand," Harley said, his voice suddenly sharper. "You don't mess with him. You don't play him, Robin. Not unless you're ready to lose."

They stared at each other for a long moment, the air thick with unspoken challenges. Below, the Brighton Syndicate continued their work, oblivious to the tension simmering above.

Robin finally broke the silence, his tone quieter but no less firm. "What's your deal, anyway? Why do you stick with him? What's he got on you?"

Harley chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, we go way back." He leaned back against the rooftop ledge. "The better question is: What's he got on you?"

Robin didn't respond, his gaze snapping back to the warehouse. One of the gang members was gesturing toward the van, motioning for the others to move the crates inside. They were getting ready to leave.

"We'll follow them," Robin muttered, forcing the tension to the back of his mind. "See where they're headed. No confrontation."

"Fine," Harley said, pushing off the ledge. "But if they pull out rocket launchers or something, don't come crying to me."

Robin didn't respond, his eyes fixed on the syndicate as the van doors slammed shut. As the vehicle rolled out of the warehouse, he felt Harley's gaze on him, sharp and searching.

"You should thank me, you know," Harley said suddenly, his tone almost playful.

"For what?" Robin asked without looking at him.

"For telling him about your little side hustle," Harley replied. "If I hadn't and he'd been taken back to Arkham?" Harley made a wincing sound. "Not pretty for you, baby bat."

Robin clenched his jaw but kept his focus on the van as it turned onto the main road. "Let's move," he said curtly.

Harley followed behind Robin, his laughter soft but lingering as they disappeared into the night.

***

The Joker's headquarters felt unnervingly quiet when Louis returned. Shadows formed in the corners of the grand apartment, the only sound the dull hum of the city outside. Louis hesitated at the entrance before pushing open the door.

Harry was lounging on the sofa, an arm draped lazily over the backrest, his other hand holding a tumbler of amber liquid that caught the dim light. He didn't look up immediately, but his voice cut through the silence like a blade.

"You took your time."

Louis closed the door behind him, his pulse quickening. "We tracked them to a safehouse," he said, keeping his tone even.

Harry turned his head, his green eyes pinning Louis in place. The edge of his lips twitched, a ghost of a smile. "Safehouse, huh?"

Louis stopped just shy of the sofa. "Brighton's gang has the shipment. They're armed, organised—there were too many of them for a direct hit tonight. We figured it's better to track them and—"

"Sit with me," Harry interrupted softly, his voice calm but insistent, cutting through Louis' report.

Louis froze at the words, his hesitation apparent. Harry's gaze was locked on him, steady and unmoving, leaving no room for argument. There was something in the way Harry leaned back, his arm still stretched out along the backrest, that made the silence feel heavier.

Reluctantly, Louis sat down, keeping a careful distance. But the Joker shifted slightly, closing some of the space between them, his arm falling casually closer to Louis' shoulder.

Harry tilted his head slightly, the tumbler resting against his knee. "And?"

Louis cleared his throat, his fingers pressing into his knees as he refocused.  "I didn't recognise any of them," he said. "Their boss didn't look familiar," he admitted. "They're probably using the weapons to make a play for more territory."

For a moment, Harry was silent, his gaze unrelenting. Then, he leaned back, his laughter soft and low, curling through the room like smoke.

"Of course they are," Harry said, his tone light. "Can't leave the kids alone for a second without them raiding the cookie jar, can we?"

Louis felt a flicker of relief—Harry didn't seem angry. Not yet.

"So," Harry continued. "What's our next move, Robin?"

Louis blinked, caught off guard. "You're asking me?"

"Why not?" The Joker downed his drink. "You tracked them down. What do we do next?"

Louis straightened, his mind racing. "We wait," he said finally. "Follow them, see where they take the rest of the shipment. Find out who's pulling the strings and question them. If we hit now, we risk losing everything."

Harry watched him closely, his expression unreadable. Then, to Louis' surprise, he nodded slowly.

"Smart," he said, his voice low. "Calculated. Waiting means seeing the bigger picture." He leaned forward to a side table, picked up another glass, and poured Louis a drink before topping up his own glass. He handed it over, his fingers brushing Louis' in the exchange. "Drink."

Louis eyed the tumbler warily but didn't refuse. He took a small sip, the burn of the alcohol sharp on his throat.

"You handled yourself well out there tonight," Harry remarked after a beat. "Tracking them down. Thinking on your feet. Makes me wonder what else you can handle."

Louis glanced at him, bristling slightly at the edge of condescension in Harry's tone. "I'm not your lackey if that's what you're suggesting."

"No," Harry said lightly, though his smirk didn't waver. "You're something much more useful."

Louis started to push himself to the edge of his seat, his unease clear.

But Harry leaned forward, his arm brushing Louis' as he reached out to pluck the empty tumbler from his hands. "Relax, Robin," he murmured, his voice slipping into something more coaxing. "Tonight's over. You've earned your rest."

The touch was fleeting, gone almost before Louis could process it, but it left an indelible heat curling in the pit of his stomach.

Harry leaned back again, his own glass still in hand as his other arm fell along the backrest, his fingers grazing the nape of Louis' neck with unsettling familiarity.

Louis swallowed hard, the tension crackling like static electricity between them.

"Tomorrow," Harry drawled, his tone low and smooth. "We remind Brighton's boys who runs this city," he said lightly, then smirked. "Spoiler: it's not them."

Louis rolled his eyes, leaning back slightly. "Wow, dramatic. You should write speeches for politicians."

Harry chuckled, tipping his glass toward Louis. "Stick around, sweetheart. I might make you my campaign manager."

Chapter Text

29: Discourse of a Delinquent

-----

The air in Joker's lavish apartment was tense with anticipation. Louis stood by the table, arms crossed, watching Harry toy with the dagger in his hand, twirling it absentmindedly and letting it dance between his fingers. His other hand was occupied with his phone pressed to his ear; the sound of a man's voice crackled over the line. 

"Got it," Harry murmured. "You know what to do."

Louis raised an eyebrow at The Joker, watching him end the phone call and giving him an expectant look.

"We've got a name," Harry finally said, his voice languid. He tilted his head, green eyes gleaming with mischief. "Brighton's boss is one Frankie Salvano. Real old-school wannabe—an arms dealer turned mobster. Thinks he can take what's mine."

Louis frowned. "Never heard of him. Didn't recognise him last night either."

"Not surprising. He's no one special," Harry replied nonchalantly. "Just a loud guy in a suit who's been lucky enough to surround himself with worse."

Louis crossed his arms tightly. "He was big, though. Two other guys with him last night—didn't leave his side."

"Well," Harry drawled. "Lucky for us, he's all alone. No muscle, no backup," he said. "My guess?  His little friends got bored of him."

"So you want me to go after him?" Louis asked. "Now?"

Harry grinned. "Not alone," he replied.

"Me and Harley?" Louis guessed.

Harry let out a soft laugh. "No, sweetheart," he answered. "Me and you."

Louis nodded slowly. "Oh," he muttered. "You think he'll talk?

Harry's smile stretched. "Guys like Salvano don't put up much of a fight. They'll fold the minute they realize they're outmatched."

"And if he doesn't?" Louis asked. 

"Oh, he'll talk," Harry promised, voice low and silky. "Especially once we give him a little...push."

Louis tried his best to not look disgusted. "Right."

Louis felt an uncomfortable, twisted chill as Harry's grin deepened. Despite his unease, Louis was drawn in by Harry's unwavering confidence, the predator within him clearly enjoying the hunt.

With a slow, deliberate flick, Harry tossed the knife onto the counter and nodded toward the door. "Ready to grab our friend?"

Louis nodded wordlessly and let Harry lead the way.

***

The alley was quiet, save for the sound of The Joker's boots clicking against the pavement. Gotham loomed around them and they closed in on their victim. Louis was ahead, silent but focused as they headed towards the area where Salvano was seen.

Harry stayed behind him, his movements relaxed, unnervingly calm. As he walked, he twirled his dagger, its steel catching the dim light in flashes. Then, without warning, he stopped. 

He caught sight of movement in his peripheral vision. His smile faded.

The Joker eyed Louis. "Go on," he said casually, waving Louis forward.

Louis frowned, glancing over his shoulder. "What? Why?"

"I'm right behind you, sweetheart," Harry drawled, flashing a too-wide grin. "Scout ahead like the star you are, I'll follow."

Louis hesitated, narrowing his eyes but deciding against arguing. He jogged forward and rounded a corner.

The moment Louis was out of sight, Harry's grin vanished. He pivoted on his heel, slipping silently into the shadows, and paused to listen. The subtle creak of leather reached his ears—there was someone here. Someone who didn't belong.

The glint of steel caught his eye before the figure moved. Batman, silent and still, watching from the shadows.

Harry stepped into view, his voice cold. "Following us, Bats?" he purred. "You really need to learn boundaries."

A gloved hand reached out to seize The Joker's coat, grabbing a fistful and slamming him back against the wall. The air crackled with the sharp impact. Harry grinned, pushing himself from the wall, through the sudden sting of the pain, shaking it off in a breath.

"Well, well," Joker chuckled, eyes flashing with wild humour. "You're still as dramatic as ever, aren't you?"

Before Batman could answer, Harry lunged, grabbing a fistful of his cape and slamming him back into the cold, damp brick wall. The force rattled through the city.

Batman sprang back immediately, closing in on Harry. "Stay away from him," he growled, his voice low and resonant.

The Joker chuckled, his head dipping as if savouring a private joke. "Aw, protective as ever. But tell me," he purred, looking up with a glint in his eye. "What makes you think he needs your saving?"

Batman surged forward, and the two grappled, Harry twisting from Liam's strong grip. Batman threw punches that Harry dodged with a manic glee. Batman swung again, this time more furious than ever, landing one fist just shy of Joker's jaw.

Liam's hand shot out, snapping his fingers around the collar of The Joker's coat and ploughing him hard against the brick wall. The thud reverberated through the narrow alleyway.

"I said—stay away from him," Batman growled, his voice echoing in the narrow alley.

"Stay away?" Harry mused. "Now why would I do that?"

He grabbed Liam's arm and sent a sharp hit to his elbow, forcing his grip to loosen. Harry twisted free with ease, his boots skidding across the wet pavement.

"Poor, broody Bat. All worked up because someone else has your precious little bird's attention," The Joker taunted

Batman pounced forward again but Harry was quick to swerve him. "I'm not playing this game," Liam snapped, turning to face The Joker again, eyes wild with fury.

He lunged at Harry but The Joker was quick and artful, dodging each blow until one landed, brushing past Harry's shoulder and knocking him off balance. Harry was quick, though, hurling a punch in Batman's direction and knocking him back a few paces.

Liam recovered, grabbing The Joker by his coat and slamming him into the wall with a thud.

Joker's grin didn't falter, even as he shifted against the weight of Batman's grip. He leaned in, eyes bright with mischief. "Oh, Bats," he murmured, feigning intrigue. "Is that jealousy I hear? Didn't think I was your type."

Batman tightened his grip, pulling The Joker forward before hurling him back into the wall. Joker let out a sharp laugh, twisting in his grasp to regain some footing.

The Joker leaned forward into his space, glancing down at Liam's lips. "Oh, I'm flattered, really," he said lightly, his eyes flickering back up to meet Liam's heavy gaze. "But you're not as pretty as your brother."

Batman went to punch him but Harry turned out of the way; Liam's fist crashed into the wall and Harry cackled manically. Brick dust puffed into the damp air.

Liam spun, throwing a series of punches in Harry's direction that he danced away from. The Joker sent a fist to Batman's side and Liam growled, hitting Harry back with a punch just as forceful. They fought like twin hurricanes, exchanging savage blows and circling each other like predators in the wild.

Batman gritted his teeth. "All this to go after him?" he bit out. "And for what? He's just a kid."

Harry stopped moving for half a second, his smirk transforming into a look of bemusement. "A kid?" he repeated, his tone dangerously soft.

Liam glared at him, fists curled in a way that showed he was ready to attack. "Leave him alone."

Harry shook his head, scoffing. "That's what you see, isn't it? A child to follow your lead, to wear his little mask and trail after you in silence."

Batman blinked. "What?" he snapped.

"Oh, don't play dumb, Batsy," Joker purred, leaning in mockingly close. "Me? I see him. Not some sidekick, not some obedient little bird." He leaned closer, his breath brushing Liam's face.

Liam snarled, grabbing Harry by the neck and pinning him against the brick wall. "Shut up."

Harry swallowed. "He's fire. Brilliant, blazing, beautiful fire," he whispered. "And do you know what I do with fire?" he mused. "I let it burn."

"You're insane," Liam hissed "You're using him for whatever sick game-"

Joker barked out a sharp laugh. "Oh, you're precious," he said. "Is that what you tell yourself? That I'm the big bad wolf who's stealing your poor little lamb? Guess again."

"He doesn't want this," Liam hissed, jaw tight. "Stay away from him." Batman leaned forward, his presence threatening. Joker didn't flinch; instead, he reached up, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from Batman's shoulder with casual ease.

"No can do," Harry replied casually. "We made a deal, my dear Dark Knight," he reminded. "A lovely, lovely deal. Even sealed it with a kiss."

Batman pressed his arm to Harry's neck firmly. "If you've hurt him—"

Harry tilted his head up, catching Liam's gaze with a defiant smirk. "Why would I hurt what's mine?" he mused.

Liam growled, pinning Harry closer to the wall. "I'll tear you apart."

"Really," Joker wheezed, though his smirk didn't waver. "You're sending such mixed signals." He leaned forward slightly, letting the pressure from Batman's arm strain against him. 

Batman slammed Joker harder against the wall, the force rattling the bricks. "Enough!"

In an instant, Harry flipped the dynamic, wrenching out of Batman's hold with surprising strength and slamming him against the opposite wall.

"You've had your turn," The Joker hissed. "Now it's time for my fun," he murmured, pressing Liam into the bricks. "When I'm done with him, he's not going to want to come back to you," he promised as Batman struggled against his grip. "I'll make him love it. Make him crave it. Make it so that he's begging for the chaos. For the madness. For me." He held Liam tightly against the wall. "I'm going to make him insatiable for it."

Harry pulled back suddenly. Batman lunged after him but The Joker was already slipping into the shadows. 

"Sorry, Batsy," his voice came from somewhere in the fog. "I have a date with a little bird. Can't be late."

***

Capturing Frankie had been almost disappointingly simple. From the moment one of Joker's men spotted him nursing a drink alone, he was fair game. By the time Frankie realised the danger, it was too late; The Joker and his gang, including Robin, had closed in like a pack of wolves. A quiet back alley. A blacked-out van. Now, they were here.

The cold warehouse air was heavy with tension. After being subdued, the captured leader was left kneeling in front of Joker. Blood seeped from his lip, and his trembling hands were bound behind him.

Joker circled him slowly, like a predator stalking wounded prey, while Louis stood to the side, arms folded tightly across his chest. His heart pounded. Joker was a whole different creature tonight, his usual theatrics distilled into something cold.

"Frankie, Frankie, Frankie," Joker began, his voice low and melodic. "What am I going to do with you?"

Frankie didn't dare raise his head. His rapid breaths echoed in the stillness of the room, the only sound apart from the knife twisting in Harry's gloved hand.

"You know," Joker began, his tone almost conversational, "I was really looking forward to a quiet evening." He twirled the knife with a flourish, leaning down just enough for the blade's tip to trace the air near Frankie's throat. "And then you had to go and ruin it."

Frankie flinched; the smell of sweat and fear thickened around him.

"Cat got your tongue?" Joker asked, tilting his head. His grin widened. "Or do you need me to sharpen your memory?"

"N-no," Frankie stammered, finally looking up, his wide eyes darting between Joker and Louis. "I—I'll talk, alright? Just—please don't—"

"Just, just?" Joker echoed mockingly, straightening to his full height with an exaggerated sigh. "Where's the fun in just talking? Humour me, Frankie. Let's make this a game."

He flicked the blade, the flat edge grazing Frankie's cheek. The mobster tensed, a whimper escaping his throat.

"Joker," Louis said softly, stepping forward, his voice edged with discomfort. "Maybe-"

Joker's head snapped in Louis' direction, his green eyes burning with intensity. "Ah, ah," he admonished with a playful wag of the knife. "Not now, sweetheart. The grown-ups are talking."

Louis hesitated but backed off, his lips pressing into a tight line. The hard look from Joker sent a chill up his spine.

"Wait! Wait!" Frankie choked out, his entire body convulsing with fear. "I didn't—I didn't have a choice! Falcone's boy—he's got people everywhere—"

"Falcone's boy," Joker interrupted, his head tilting sharply, almost birdlike. His grin widened, and for a moment, his entire frame stilled, the only sound the clinking of his blade against Frankie's cheek. "Well, Frankie, darling, don't keep me waiting. What do I care about some washed-up mob daddy's heir?"

Louis' breath caught. Carmine Falcone was a name every Gothamite knew, and one Batman had taken down years ago. But Falcone's son? This was worse than he'd imagined.

Frankie hesitated, looking wildly toward Louis again, as though the younger man would somehow intervene. Louis stayed rooted, his stomach twisting.

"The Falcone name carries weight, even after his old man went down. His son's got Gotham eating outta his hand," he spilt. "He's pulling crews together. Said the city needs order—that you're unpredictable, dangerous."

"Aw, someone noticed," Joker drawled sarcastically, raising the blade from Frankie's chin only to trail it mockingly along his cheek.

Frankie stumbled over his words. "He's... he's saying the city's up for grabs! That someone needs to take control—y-you've been quieter since—since—"

"Since I let you live?" Joker finished, his tone suddenly icy.

Frankie's breath hitched. "P-please, Joker. I didn't—I didn't want—"

"Didn't want what?" Harry quizzed. "What do they have on you?" Frankie hesitated for a moment, fumbling. "Speak!" Harry barked.

Frankie's defiance crumbled in an instant. His gaze darted nervously toward Louis as if searching for mercy. "He's got crews from all over," he stammered. "They don't..."

Harry tilted his head, mockingly intrigued. "Go on."

Frankie stammered, his breath coming in shallow gasps. "T-they just—they just don't like not knowing—"

"Not knowing what I'm going to do next?" Joker finished, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "Oh, Frankie, that's the whole point."

"They're saying..." Frankie choked out. "That you're distracted. With him." His eyes flicked to Louis again.

Joker's silence was palpable. Louis straightened, every instinct telling him not to move or breathe under Joker's intense focus. Slowly, deliberately, Harry leaned in closer to Frankie.

"Go on, Frankie boy," The Joker urged, his voice light and teasing. "Tell me what Junior Falcone's been whispering to all the little crooks in my city."

Frankie gulped, his voice trembling. "That you're not the same since the blackout," he continued. "Falcone's pulling in everyone—Maroni's leftovers, Dent's old crew—"

"And he thinks a bunch of small timers is going to scare me?" The Joker mused. 

"No—please—I didn't mean—" Frankie stuttered out as Harry brought his blade to the mobster's neck.

Louis stepped forward. "Joker-" his interjection was cut short.

"Quiet!" Harry barked suddenly, his tone like a whip crack. His glare pinned Louis in place. Then, as swiftly as the rage appeared, it melted into a thin, amused smile. He turned back to Frankie, gesturing with the blade. "He's still learning," he offered in explanation, his voice almost fond.

"Please..." Frankie's words trailed into a cry as Joker grabbed him by the collar, yanking him up slightly to meet his venomous gaze.

"He thinks the city's up for grabs, does he?" Joker sneered, his voice low and dripping with venom. "Let me tell you a secret, Frankie. I am Gotham. I'm the chaos that runs through this city's veins, the ghost stories they whisper about in the dark. I'm the shadow that lurks at every corner. I'm every twisted grin, every flicker of madness, every nightmare this city can't wake up from."

Frankie trembled violently, barely able to nod.

Harry's lips twitched into a dangerous smirk. "They don't think I'm the same since the blackout?" He leaned in closer, his whisper carrying an electric charge of menace. "They're right. I'm worse."

Joker dragged his hand across Frankie's collar like petting a weak animal, and then, with one sharp motion, he shoved him down, sending him sprawling to the ground like a broken marionette.

Straightening his coat with unnerving precision, he turned to his men. "Get a list of every name that's spat on my city," he commanded, flicking his blade closed. "Crews. Safehouses. Hidey-holes. All of it. I want it by dawn."

The gang scrambled to obey as Joker glanced at Louis, his expression still frighteningly calm. "Let's go, sweetheart." He turned on his heel, not bothering to look back.

Louis swallowed hard before falling into step behind him, unsure if he would ever shake the image of Joker like this—utterly untethered.

***

Louis lingered in the corner of the apartment, his hands stuffed in his pockets as Joker went on about.. well, something. Something connected to Falcone's son or his old empire, or maybe Gotham's latest new players.

Louis didn't care anymore. His mind was preoccupied, swirling with the weight of guilt. The earlier revelation that a gang was forming, that they were planning to group together to attack, gnawed at Louis' conscience. If they'd gotten to the shipment, if he hadn't been sneaking around, then none of this would have happened.

"-still, I'll give the kid credit," Harry continued with a mockingly sweet tone, "he does have ambition. It's cute when they think they can clean up something as dirty as Gotham. But I'm here to tell him: That's not how this city works. She doesn't get fixed. She doesn't see order," he rambled. "Order," he repeated bitterly, looking over to glance at Louis. "As if she's some well-behaved housewife, just waiting for a husband to come home."

The Joker trailed off, sensing the shift in Louis. He let the words hang for a moment before leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees.

"But you're not listening, are you, sweetheart?" He studied Louis for a moment, the grin on his face fading into something more serious. "You're distracted. Not focused. I can see it on you. Why don't you tell me what's going on in that little head of yours?"

Louis froze, his stomach sinking. The weight of his guilt was suffocating. Without thinking, the words tumbled out of his mouth.

"It's my fault," he muttered, barely audible.

Harry watched him carefully. "Come again?"

Louis sighed, looking up to meet Harry's eyes. "It's my fault," he repeated. "If I hadn't..." he swallowed, shaking his head. "We should've got the shipment that night."

Joker studied him closely, his eyes half-lidded, his lips pressing into something like a small smirk. He didn't seem angry. He looked... interested. Maybe even amused.

"Well," Harry started easily. "Your little double agent shift did mess with my plans, sweetheart."

It was more teasing than harsh but Louis still winced.

"I'm sorry," he muttered softly, looking up at Harry with wide eyes.

Joker tilted his head, leaning further forward. His voice softened in an almost disarming way. "You really mean that, don't you?"

Louis nodded, looking back down to avoid Harry's steady gaze. 

Joker studied him for a long moment, his lips curving into a faint smile. "It's okay, sweetheart," he said lightly, surprising Louis. "I like being kept on my toes."

Louis blinked, looking back up. "You're not angry?"

"Oh, I'm furious," Harry said with a chuckle. "But not at you. No, no. This is delightful. A little intrigue, a little betrayal—it keeps things exciting," he added. "It's all fixable. I'm going to show little Falcone why it's a very bad idea to steal from me."

Louis frowned, confused. "But I-"

Harry shook his head, cutting him off. "Oh, sweetheart," he drawled, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "That's adorable. You think this is all your fault?"

Louis started. "I-"

"You're not to blame for some junior mob royalty snatching up my toys," Harry told him. "Nope, that's just Gotham."

Louis didn't look convinced but slowly nodded, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. 

Harry laughed softly, more fond than dangerous. "You're really sorry, huh?" he mused quietly, eyeing Louis with a rare kindness. "Now—here's how you make it up to me," he said. "We hit Junior's operation. Hard." He held Louis' gaze and the boy held onto his every word. "No survivors unless they pledge their undying allegiance to me."

Louis hesitated for a moment, the gravity of Joker's words sinking in. He knew what this meant, and he knew he had no choice but to follow.

"Alright," Louis said, his voice quiet but steady, a sense of resolve building inside him. "Let's do it."

Joker's smile spread wider. "That's my boy."

Chapter Text

30: Manifesto of a Mastermind

-----

The industrial lot was eerily quiet now, save for the sound of creaking metal and the distant wail of sirens. Most of Junior Falcone's men were either dead or swearing new allegiances to The Joker, his henchmen going around to ensure each of them would fall in line.

The rest of The Joker's posse was gathered around, their eyes darted between The Joker and the boy in his shadow—Robin, silent and tense, his posture tight with unease.

Junior was sprawled on his knees before them, bloodied but breathing, his head lolling forward. The Joker crouched in front of him, tilting his head like he was admiring a particularly disappointing painting.

"You really thought you could steal from me?" The Joker's voice was almost playful, light enough to be disarming, but tinged with venom. "Cute. Really. But you see, Junior, we have rules in this city. My city. Rule number one..." He grabbed Junior's chin, forcing him to look up. "Nobody steals from me. Not shipments, not turf, not air. All this?" He dropped Junior's chin and waved a hand lazily around the wreckage. "It's mine."

Junior spat blood but didn't speak. The Joker let out a delighted laugh as if entertained by his defiance.

"Well, aren't you brave," Harry said.

Junior flinched but refused to lower his gaze. "I'm not scared of you," he ground out, every word bitten off like it cost him.

The Joker chuckled darkly and motioned lazily over his shoulder. One of his men stepped forward, holding up a crowbar. Joker snatched it without a glance, spinning it idly in his hand before his face darkened.

"Let's test that theory, shall we?" With a sudden, brutal swing, the crowbar connected with Junior's ribs. The crack of bone sent shudders through the crowd of onlookers, Louis included. He flinched, his hands clenching at his sides as the metallic ring of the blow echoed into silence.

Junior let out a choked gasp, doubling over, his defiance dimming but not extinguished. He coughed, flecks of blood spattering the pavement. "D-doesn't matter how many of us you beat," he wheezed. "Someone will put you in the ground."

Harry crouched again, this time grabbing Junior's jaw in a gloved hand. "Oh, you poor, brain-dead child," he cooed mockingly, squeezing until Junior winced. "The only thing going in the ground... is you."

Blood trickled down Junior's chin. "It's business," he rasped. "Nothing personal."

"Oh." Joker tilted his head, his grin widening as though he'd heard the punchline to some private joke. "Nothing personal. That's cute." Harry's grip on Junior's chin was iron-tight. "Except it is personal. It's very personal when you," he enunciated, squeezing again until Junior groaned, "try and cheat me out of what's mine."

Junior cried out loudly and Louis felt his stomach turn uncomfortably.

Harry let go abruptly, standing with a dramatic flourish. "But I'm a reasonable man," he announced, turning to face his gathered crew, his arms outstretched as though addressing an audience. "I'll give him a chance. Everyone deserves a chance, right?"

The crew rumbled with laughter behind him. Harry briefly eyed Junior but the man's head was hung as he struggled to catch his breath.

"Well?" The Joker asked.

Junior shook his head. "Go to hell," he rasped.

Harry huffed out an amused laugh and straightened, turning toward Louis.

The grin that was all menace softened into something warmer. "Sweetheart," he called, his voice almost a purr.

Louis, standing rigid a few feet away, flinched. His hands curled into fists at his sides as his stomach twisted into knots. "Yeah?" he asked, though his voice barely rose above a whisper.

Joker meandered over, standing close—too close. One gloved hand brushed Louis' hair back from his face, a casual, possessive motion. Louis didn't move, barely breathing, his wide eyes fixed on Joker's.

"You want to make me happy, don't you?" The Joker murmured, his tone low and coaxing.

Louis nodded stiffly. "Yeah," he managed, his throat dry.

Harry continued to gently brush his hand through Louis' hair. "Of course you do," he muttered, slowly withdrawing and pulling a knife from his jacket. He spun it theatrically before holding it out, handle-first, toward Louis. "Time for you to show me how sorry you are. Take care of our little problem here."

Louis didn't move. His eyes flickered between the knife and Junior, his chest tightening.

The Joker's grin faltered. "What's the matter? You want to glare him to death?"

The gang chuckled behind them. Harley glanced up, but his expression was unreadable as he turned his attention fully to Louis.

Harry's eyes narrowed slightly as he moved closer, pressing the knife handle into Louis' hand. Louis felt the cool steel and flinched at the weight of it. His fingers curled around it instinctively before he realised what he was doing.

"Good boy," The Joker murmured approvingly, his gloved fingers trailing lightly along Louis' jaw before he stepped back.

The gesture sent an unsettling ripple through the gang. Louis wasn't just a tool to Joker; he was a toy, something prized and breakable, a dynamic that invited both envy and suspicion.

"I..." Louis faltered. His voice was barely a whisper, the words catching in his throat. "I can't."

The gang murmured around them, sharing glances of suspicion as they eyed Robin.

The Joker tilted his head at Louis. "Come again, sweetheart?"

Louis swallowed. "I'm not... I can't do it."

Harry's voice dropped low and soft. "You want to be sorry? You want to make it up to me? This is how. Do your part."

Louis stared down at the blade in his hand, his breathing quickening. "I... I'm... we can...can't we get the police to—"

The Joker's henchmen laughed at Louis' suggestion.

"Quiet," Harry demanded calmly, just loud enough for the crew to hear. Instantly, the laughter stopped. Every thug in the room stiffened, avoiding his gaze.

The Joker turned his attention back to Louis, his tone softer now but no less dangerous.

"Kitten," he said with deliberate condescension. "I've trained you better than this. Don't disappoint me," he said firmly, gesturing to Junior. "Come on now, don't be scared."

Louis could feel his breath hitching, his grip tightening on the knife even as his arm refused to move. "I'm not scared," he muttered through gritted teeth, his eyes darting to Junior. "I just... this isn't right."

That earned a few quiet snickers, quickly silenced when Joker glanced up at the gang.

"You're right. This isn't right," Joker said, nodding slowly as though considering Louis' words. "But we don't play by the rules here, do we, sweetheart?"

Sensing his chance, Junior coughed weakly and choked out, "Wait... Wait. Don't... Don't do this. I'll—I'll leave town, alright? You won't hear from me again."

Joker threw back his head and laughed, the sound sharp and grating. "Leave town? Oh, Junior, you misunderstand." He crouched again, patting Junior's face with a condescending grin. "I'm not looking for empty promises."

Junior winced as Joker's grin widened. "I'll join you."

Harry raised a brow. "Will you now?" he mused. Junior nodded slowly. "How about you kiss the ring? Show me you're serious."

The gang burst into laughter as he removed his glove and extended his hand, holding it out expectantly.

Junior froze, his jaw tightening. "You're insane."

"True," Joker agreed with a shrug, his tone light. "But you're still going to do it."

Junior hesitated, his pride battling against his fear. Slowly, grudgingly, he leaned forward. But the moment Junior's lips brushed The Joker's silver ring, his expression darkened.

"Hm," The Joker hummed softly. "Too little, too late," he declared. He straightened, turning back to Louis. "Kitten? Time to play."

"Wait!" Junior gritted out.

Louis' voice came out barely above a whisper. "But—he's giving up. He's surrendering."

"Oh, darling." The Joker's tone turned patronising, almost pitying, and his hand went to the back of Louis' neck. "You think a few pretty words are enough? You think he isn't going to stab us in the back the second we leave? Come on, sweetheart. You're smarter than that."

"I... I'm trying," Louis choked out. "Can't we-" he cut himself off, fumbling for another option.

Joker turned to the gang with a theatrical sweep of his arms. "Stubborn, isn't he?" he said with a grin. "Look how cute he is, trying to bargain." The laughter resumed, but Joker quickly refocused on Louis, his hand cupping Louis' chin, tilting it up so their eyes met. "Down."

Louis blinked at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What?"

Harry's other hand brushed over Louis' cheekbone. "On your knees for me, sweetheart," he commanded, withdrawing his touch.

Louis froze, his cheeks burning as the gang murmured around them. He swallowed and sank to his knees, humiliation coursing through him.

The Joker reached out again and brushed his hair back, his touch disturbingly tender. "There's a good boy," he murmured. "Now apologise."

Louis' breath caught, his whole body hot with embarrassment. He looked up at Harry, then glanced at The Joker's henchmen who were all watching expectantly.

Louis swallowed his pride. "Sorry," he whispered.

Harry turned to his gang. "Did we catch that?" he asked the men, humming when they shook their heads. "Nice and loud, sweetheart, they can't hear you."

Louis glanced at Harry with a pleading look but The Joker just nodded for him to comply. Louis bit his bottom lip momentarily before saying, "I'm sorry," louder than before. Harry didn't look completely impressed. "I'm sorry for disappointing you."

The gang murmured in approval, a low, rumbling chorus that made Louis want to sink further into the ground. He willed himself not to cry. The Joker's hand returned to his hair, ruffling it gently before tilting his head forward to force eye contact.

"That's okay, sweetheart," Harry purred. "Don't worry. I'll take care of it for you," he promised. "You just sit pretty and watch."

The Joker turned back to Junior, lifting the crowbar again with a theatrical flourish. He rolled his sleeves and grinned.

"You see, sweetheart," Harry began, addressing Louis as he brought the crowbar down hard against Junior's shoulder. "You could've ended it nice and quick for him." He lifted the crowbar high. "Me?" He swung again, the sickening crunch of bone echoing through the lot. "Well, I like to make a mess."

Junior screamed, writhing on the ground, his defiance now replaced by pleading. "Stop! Please! I'll—I'll do whatever you want!"

The Joker grinned wider, the crowbar slick with blood as he ignored Junior's pleas. Louis turned his head so that he didn't have to see the torture playing out in front of him.

Harry glanced back at Louis. "Make sure he's watching," he added, gesturing to Harley.

Harley stepped forward, his hands firm but not cruel, as he tilted Louis' head, ensuring his eyes were fixed on the scene. Joker shifted his tools, exchanging the crowbar for a wrench. Junior's sobs grew louder as Joker methodically brought it down on his knees, eliciting screams that echoed into the night.

"Please, please," Junior gasped, his voice breaking with every word. "I'll—I'll leave—I'll give you—"

"Ah-ah," Joker said, cutting him off with another blow. "You're ruining the fun, Junior. I'm not interested in your promises anymore."

Louis twisted in Harley's grip, his voice cracking. "Wait! Stop! I'll—I'll do it!"

Joker paused mid-swing, tilting his head toward Louis. "Oh, kitten," he said, a mock pout on his lips. "It's too late for that." He turned his attention back to Junior and swung. Another sickening crack echoed throughout the warehouse and Junior screamed.

Junior crumpled, his pleas coming out weak. Harry pulled a knife from his jacket, using one hand to drag Junior back up to his knees. The man could hardly hold the position without falling.

Harry grinned, plunging the knife into his thigh. Junior screamed, writhing against the pavement as Joker leaned in, his lips curling into a delighted grin. "You know," Joker said conversationally, "this is so much more fun when you fight back."

Junior's pleas were incoherent, a desperate tangle of sobs and apologies. "Please, please," he gasped. "I'll leave. Anything you want," he whispered through the blood. "Please."

Louis cringed, instinctively turning away.

The Joker pulled the knife free and straightened, glancing back at Louis. "Hold him steady, Harley," he ordered, his voice calm but commanding. "Make sure he doesn't miss any of the fun."

Harley shifted slightly, his tone casual. "C'mon, boss. Birdie's gonna break."

The Joker slowly turned to Harley, the sharp edge in his smile returning. "Oh? Feeling particularly brave tonight, are we?"

Harley's smirk didn't falter. "Nah, not brave," he said easily. "Efficient," he corrected. "Let me finish it."

Joker paused, tilting his head as though considering before nodding with a smirk. "Fine. Have at it," he mused.

As Harley stepped forward, The Joker crouched in front of Louis, stroking the boy's cheek. His voice dropped to a murmur that only Louis could hear. "You're okay, sweetheart," he whispered.

Louis' chest heaved, tears threatening to spill as Harley moved with chilling efficiency.

With one swift, practised motion, Harley ended it. The hammer swung with shocking precision, caving in Junior's skull in one clean motion. The sickening thud of the blow silenced the lot, leaving only the sound of Junior's body collapsing to the ground. Louis shuddered, bile rising in his throat as Harley turned to him, his expression unreadable.

The stillness dissipated, and Louis grimaced at the sight of Junior's body crumpled on the floor in front of him.

Joker stood, looking over Junior's body with a satisfied nod. Harley stepped away from the body.

"C'mon, birdie," Harley said, holding out his hand for Louis to take. His tone was still light, but his expression was oddly sympathetic. "Let's get outta here," he said, pulling Louis to his feet.

Harley eyed The Joker for approval. Harry nodded and Harley guided Louis away from the scene.

Behind them, The Joker turned to his gang. "The rest of you?" he said, his voice turning deadly serious. "Clean this up."

The gang snapped into motion immediately as The Joker's eyes lingered on the door Louis had disappeared through.

***

The apartment door clicked shut with a heavy finality, the faint murmur of the city outside swallowed by silence. Louis lingered near the threshold, his arms stiff at his sides, his chest tight. He kept his eyes on the floor, not daring to glance up at Joker, who had already crossed the room.

The air was heavy, crackling with unspoken tension as Joker moved unhurriedly. He shrugged off his coat, draping it over the back of a chair with casual ease. For a long moment, the only sound was the faint clink of glass as he poured himself a drink.

Louis shifted his weight, his shoes scuffing softly against the floor. His shoulders were rigid, his fists clenched tightly at his sides.

Joker turned, his sharp grin already in place as he leaned casually against the counter. He didn't speak, didn't move—just watched.

Louis could feel The Joker's gaze on him, heavy and expectant, and it made his skin prickle. Slowly, reluctantly, he glanced up.

"What's got you all wound up, sweetheart?" he asked lightly.

The tension built until Louis couldn't take it anymore. His voice wavered as he broke the silence. "Are you..." he swallowed. "Are you mad at me?"

Harry's head tilted as he chuckled softly. "Mad?" he echoed. He set his glass down and crossed the room until he was just shy of Louis. "Why would I be mad at you, darling?"

Louis' shoulders sagged slightly, the tension in his chest easing—but only for a moment. He flinched as Joker's gloved hand brushed against his cheek, trailing lightly down to his jaw.

"Stop," Louis muttered, jerking his head back.

Harry pulled back, hand going to Louis' shoulder. "Now, now," he murmured, his voice dipping lower. "You don't get to be shy."

Louis tensed under Joker's touch, his chest tightening again. He took a step back, but Harry's grip followed, firm and unyielding.

"Oh no you don't," The Joker said smoothly, steering Louis back into place. "Now, why would I be mad?"

"Because I couldn't do it," Louis said quickly, his voice rising. "I couldn't—I didn't..." He trailed off, his throat tightening as the memory of the knife in his hand flickered through his mind.

The Joker let out a soft chuckle. "Ah," he murmured. "That's what's got you all twisted in knots?"

Louis looked away. "I didn't do what you wanted."

Harry shook his head "No, sweetheart," he replied. "You did exactly what I wanted."

Robin blinked, looking back at Harry with furrowed brows. "What?"

"You think I expected you to dive in, all blood and guts, just like that?" The Joker asked. "I knew you wouldn't do it."

Louis fish mouthed. "You knew?" he repeated, shaking his head in confusion. "Then why-"

"You needed to prove yourself," The Joker interrupted. "And you did," he promised. "Getting on your knees for me? Showing everyone that you're mine?" he said. "You did your role perfectly."

Louis' nose twitched. "That was humiliating."

"Humiliating?" Harry echoed. "No, that was respect," he corrected. "They needed to see you fall in line."

Louis flushed. "You didn't need to do that."

Harry grinned. "No?" he asked. "And what would you have had me do?"

Louis fumbled. "I- I don't know-"

The Joker's grin dimmed slightly. "You think respect comes for free? You think they'd take you seriously if they didn't see it?"

Louis said nothing, his fists curled at his sides.

"I did you a favour," he continued, his tone sharp. "You got their respect and you didn't even have to get your hands dirty. You should be thanking me."

Louis scoffed. "Thanking you?" he bit out.

Joker leaned back slightly. "You know what the others have to do to prove themselves?" he asked. "You think getting on their knees and whispering sweet little apologies is enough? No, sweetheart, they have to work for it. They bleed for it. They break for it. Consider yourself lucky."

"Lucky?" Louis repeated, his voice rising. "You think this is lucky?"

Joker chuckled. "Lucky," he confirmed, his hand brushing lightly against the back of Louis' neck. "You have no idea how good you have it."

Louis stiffened at Harry's touch. "You think this is good?" he muttered

"I think," Joker said smoothly, tilting his head, "that you need to stop fighting me." His voice was low, his fingers brushing over Louis' skin delicately. "And I think that you were good for me tonight."

Louis' mouth opened slightly, his skin becoming hot under Harry's touch. He blinked too late, realising that his eyes had flickered to somewhere they shouldn't have; he yanked himself back.

"What is with you?" Louis snapped, his voice cracking under the weight of his frustration.

Harry looked caught off guard for a moment before his smile turned into a look of amusement. "You're going to have to be a little more specific, sweetheart."

Louis clenched his fists tighter, his nails biting into his palms. "You're—" His voice caught, and he dragged a hand through his hair as he took another step back. "You're just-"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I'm what?"

Louis fumbled for the words, scoffing. "You're-" he shook his head. "One second, you're humiliating me in front of everyone," he hissed. "And being completely terrifying," he continued. "And then the next, you're—" he faltered, gesturing vaguely to Harry, unable to find the right words.

Harry tilted his head, his tone soft and coaxing, as if he was indulging a child throwing a tantrum. "And then I'm what?"

Louis let out a frustrated sigh. "Forget it!"

The Joker bit back a smile. "No, no, don't stop now," he encouraged. "You've got me on the edge of my seat."

Louis shook his head. "Just stop!"

"Stop what?" Joker pressed, his tone playful. He took another step forward, reaching out his hand to touch Louis.

Louis smacked his hand away. "Don't," he said firmly. "You-" he tried again, arms flailing. "I just- I don't understand you!"

Harry huffed out a laugh. "Always thinking," he commented. "How 'bout you stop trying so hard to understand," he said. "You'll tire yourself out, sweetheart," he added. "I need you full of energy for tomorrow."

Louis glared at him, biting his bottom lip for a moment before turning his head.

The Joker sighed overdramatically. "Oh come on, don't be like that." He tilted his head to get a better look at Louis. "What?" he quizzed. "You want to sulk some more?"

Louis scoffed. "You're ridiculous," he muttered, folding his arms across his chest.

"That's not news," Harry replied lightly. "But go on, get it all out. You're clearly dying to."

The silence was suffocating. Louis shifted his weight, his arms tightening against his chest as though that alone might keep him grounded. He kept his gaze fixed on the floor, though he could feel those sharp green eyes fixed on him, watching, waiting.

When he finally looked up at Harry, it was a mistake. The weight of Harry's attention settled on him fully, unrelenting and patient.

Robin's words were just short of a whisper. "You're supposed to be..." he trailed off. "But then you go and-"

He couldn't finish his stream of thoughts. His eyes betrayed him as his gaze fell treacherously, lingering on Harry's lips for far too long.

The air seemed to shift as Harry caught the look. Harry's lips parted and he watched Louis with a rare kind of uncertainty. Whatever quip he might've had ready seemed to evaporate.

"Louis." His voice was soft and contemplative.

The sound of his name on Harry's tongue snapped Louis back to reality. He stumbled backwards, his breaths coming faster, shaking his head furiously.

"Don't," he muttered. "Just... don't."

Harry's smirk returned, albeit weaker than usual. "Alright, sweetheart."

He didn't step away immediately, lingering as if waiting for something more. When Louis didn't move, Harry let out an amused breath, his hand brushing lightly across Louis' shoulder as he stepped back toward the counter, retrieving his drink.

Louis didn't move; every muscle was rigid as if any step forward or back might pull him under.

Harry took a long sip, watching Louis for another beat, his silence heavier than any teasing remark. "You did good tonight," he said, casually dismissive. "Let's see if you can impress me again tomorrow."

With that, he strolled toward the door, leaving Louis alone with tension in the air.

As the door clicked shut, Louis finally let out the breath he'd been holding, his hand coming up to brush against his lips—tentative, questioning. He shook his head as he dragged his fingers away, exhaling shakily before leaving the room.

Chapter Text

31: Interests of an Idealist

-----

Rain streaked in uneven lines down the apartment window, each drop blurring the grey expanse of Gotham beyond. Louis stood still, watching the city churn below him. A taxi splashed through a puddle on the corner. Neon signs flickered in rhythm with the downpour. Somewhere, faint sirens wove through the city noise—a song as natural to Gotham as the hum of its lights.

His gaze drifted skyward instinctively, searching rooftops and shadows. He wasn't even sure what he was hoping to see. Batman wouldn't just appear because he wanted him to. But the thought stayed lodged in the back of his mind.

"Where are you?" Louis muttered to himself.

He hadn't spotted Batman once whilst out and he hadn't heard a drop of news about him since seeing him dragged away unconscious.

What would you do? The thought came, sharper than he'd intended. A bitter tug at the edge of his lips kept him silent. Liam always had a plan. Always knew what to say. He sighed and clenched his fists, retreating to the illusion of composure.

The door behind him swung open with its usual creak, breaking his trance.

"Catch."

The wet jacket slapped against him and Louis instinctively grabbed it as it hit his chest, cold and damp, stopping it just short of falling. He frowned, brushing droplets from his arm as he looked up to see Harry leaning in the doorway, droplets of rain clinging to his hair.

"Quick hands," Harry smirked, running a casual hand through his damp hair as he strode in.

Harry moved toward the small mirror mounted crookedly on the wall. He pulled loose the knot of his tie, his green eyes flickering with their constant amusement as he studied his reflection.

Louis went to fold the jacket over the back of the chair but his fingers brushed against something solid in the right pocket. Something small and metallic—smooth and unmistakable. A key.

He hesitated for half a second, glancing back to see if Harry had noticed, but the man was preoccupied, pulling off his tie and undoing the buttons to his shirt.

Louis swallowed and slung the jacket over a chair, glancing at him. "Where were you?"

"Busy," Harry answered, the word vague as usual. He finished up in the mirror and strolled further into the room. "Something for you, though," he added with a spark of interest.

Louis raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Your new friends. Or what's left of them." Harry slid into the chair by the table, propping his feet up as he leaned back. "Two of Junior's little soldiers managed to slip the net during our performance. Jax and O'Neil."

Louis frowned slightly, folding his arms as he leaned against the counter. The names were faintly familiar from Joker's endless lists of names and debts. "And they're just... out there?"

Harry's smirk sharpened. "For now. But don't give them too much credit. Their idea of hiding involves bars with dirt floors and stolen whiskey."

"Let me guess," Louis said flatly. "You're thinking the Narrows?"

Harry nodded, impressed. "Look are you," he gestured lazily at Louis. "We've got whispers. A couple of haunts that might suit their style. Not confirmed, but..."

"But you want to check it out," Louis finished. "And?"

"And you and I," Harry said, grinning now, "are going to track them down. Not a question of if—it's just a matter of where they feel like bleeding."

"Of course." Louis crossed his arms tighter, meeting Harry's gaze evenly. "Tonight?"

Harry nodded. "Later. After I tie up some things." He leaned forward slightly, his green eyes narrowing in a way that made Louis want to straighten his posture. "This isn't a field trip, sweetheart. I expect you to pull your weight."

Louis bit back a retort. "You don't need to tell me that."

"Good." Harry stood and turned to the damp jacket on the chair, picking it up and throwing it over his forearm.

Louis' attention flickered briefly to the movement, his gaze snagging on the pocket. The subtle bulge of the key caught his eye.

"Dark's in a couple of hours," Harry said, breaking Louis' thoughts. "Don't fall asleep on me." He arched an eyebrow, smiling faintly as he strolled toward the door. "Catch me in a good mood and maybe I'll let you drive."

Louis rolled his eyes, but his focus lingered on the coat as Harry vanished into the hallway.

***

The night clung thick to Gotham's alleys, turning every corner into a hunting ground of shadows. Harry led the way, his steps unhurried yet purposeful, boots barely making a sound on the wet pavement. Louis followed close behind, the cold bite of the air forcing his hands deeper into his jacket pockets.

"The last time Jax and O'Neil surfaced, they weren't far from Midtown," Harry said, his voice cutting easily through the quiet. "These kinds of rats? They don't stray far when their den's burned down."

Louis resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the dramatic phrasing. "So where are we looking?"

"Couple of dive bars. One's already been sniffed out by the crew, nothing there but cockroaches and overdue debts." Harry's grin twisted briefly into something wicked. "The other? Let's just say it has potential."

They turned down a narrower alley, the sounds of the city fading into a muffled hum behind them. A faint flicker of a neon light came into view as they approached a dilapidated door tucked between crumbling brick walls. Above it, a weather-worn sign read "RUBY'S", its letters unevenly lit.

"Classy," Louis muttered, sparing the sign a glance.

Harry bit back a laugh. He gestured toward the door with a lazy flick of his wrist. "After you, sweetheart."

Louis didn't bother responding, his attention turning to the task at hand. He adjusted his posture, squaring his shoulders as he stepped through the door.

Inside, the stale scent of alcohol mixed with smoke and something bitter. A jukebox in the corner played a faint tune that barely masked the low hum of conversations. The bar itself was crowded enough to feel alive but sparse enough that nobody could vanish easily.

Harry followed in, his presence effortlessly commanding the room's attention. Conversations stilled, and heads turned, but a single look from him made them all slide back into their respective corners.

Louis scanned the faces cautiously, looking for anyone who matched the description. Then he saw him. Jax.

The man was sitting near the back, his build unmistakable and his scowl barely hidden behind a tumbler of something dark.

"Bingo," Louis muttered under his breath.

Harry caught the direction of his gaze immediately. His smirk widened as he tilted his head toward Jax, his voice barely a whisper. "Shall we?"

Louis didn't hesitate. They moved together, weaving through the bar like currents in the water. By the time Jax noticed them, it was too late.

"Evening," Harry greeted smoothly, pulling out the seat across from Jax without waiting for an invitation. Louis came to a stop just behind Harry, casually positioning himself to block Jax's easiest escape.

When Jax's gaze met Harry's, the colour drained from his face. He shoved himself upright, ready to bolt, but Harry was faster.

"Leaving already?" The Joker asked, catching Jax's arm and tugging him back down. "You haven't even finished your drink."

Jax's throat bobbed uneasily. "J-Joker," he stammered. "Wasn't expecting to see you... here." He looked between Harry and Louis.

Harry grinned. "Oh, I bet," he muttered softly before his voice turned sharp. "Start talking," he ordered, releasing Jax's arm.

Jax swallowed hard, his voice breaking. "I—I don't know what you want from me!" He glanced at Louis again, confusion evident in the fleeting look.

"Eyes on me, not him," Harry snapped, his voice hardening. He chuckled darkly, sitting back. "Or do you think he's going to save you?"

"I—no, I just—" Jax stammered, clearly flustered now.

Harry gestured toward Louis. "You don't want him jumping in. Trust me." His voice took on a teasing edge as he glanced at Louis with a sly grin. "His looks? Misleading. Small, maybe even cute, sure. But you'd hate to see him run out of patience."

Louis' brow twitched slightly, and he rolled his eyes. He didn't refute the claim, though; Harry wasn't entirely wrong.

"I've seen what he can do," Harry added, his grin widening. "And believe me, he can be... efficient."

Louis shifted subtly, the smallest flicker of something unreadable passing over his face.

Jax swallowed hard, his hands gripping the edge of the table as if steadying himself. "What do you want?" he finally forced out, his voice hoarse.

"C'mon now," Harry drawled. "That's no way to start. Let's make this civil. We both know why I'm here."

Jax didn't move, his gaze flicking back to Louis.

"Are you deaf?" Harry's voice turned icy. "I said, stop looking at him. He's mine."

Jax jerked his head down, staring fixedly at the table. "Sorry."

Louis rolled his eyes again, holding back a laugh.

"Better," Harry said smoothly, his grin returning. "Now that I have your attention," he continued, his voice deceptively light, "we've got some loose ends to tie up. Your friend O'Neil—where is he?"

Jax shook his head. "I don't know."

Harry sighed, leaning forward now, his grin dropping into something colder. "Wrong answer."

Jax's hand twitched toward his jacket pocket but Louis was quicker, grabbing his wrist and slamming it against the table. The force rattled the tumbler, spilling its contents onto the sticky surface.

"Don't," Louis warned, his tone sharp but low.

Harry grinned. "Told you, he's dangerous," he told Jax, glancing at Louis. "Now, O'Neil?"

Jax stayed quiet, looking away from The Joker and down at the table. "Please. I told you," he answered, voice strained. "I don't know."

Louis tilted his head slightly, a faint, sceptical smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Sure. And your pockets are just for decoration?"

He eyed Jax's pockets which were stuffed to the brim. The Joker tracked Robin's gaze.

Harry's brows lifted in amusement. "Good point, sweetheart. What do you think he's hiding?" He looked at Louis with a grin.

Louis shrugged, his tone light. "Could be something incriminating. Could just be a really bad sense of fashion."

Jax's hands twitched toward his jacket reflexively.

Harry's grin turned wolfish as he leaned forward, his tone dropping. "Shall we find out?"

The next few moments were a blur. Harry's hand shot out faster than Louis could track, grabbing the front of Jax's shirt and yanking him halfway across the table. The glass toppled, spilling amber liquid everywhere, but Harry didn't flinch. The force knocked Jax's chair backwards and caught the attention of a few nearby tables who paused their conversations to watch the commotion.

The Joker pinned Jax to the table with effortless strength, making Louis pause for a second.

"I'll ask nicely once," Harry said, his tone calm but deadly. "After that? Not so much."

Jax's lips trembled as the words failed to form. His breath came in shallow gasps, panic setting in. "I haven't seen O'Neil—"

"Ah ah ah," Harry cut him off, shaking his head. "Try again," he said, his tone deceptively pleasant.

Louis shifted his weight behind Harry, watching the exchange with a tense jaw. Jax's gaze flicked to him again.

Harry turned his head just slightly toward Louis, his grin resurfacing. "See this?" he said, gesturing casually at Louis with a nod. "This is restraint, Jax. He's letting me handle this. That should terrify you."

Jax swallowed hard, his bravado crumbling. "Okay! Okay, I—I think he's laying low at an old warehouse by the river. Pier seventeen. It's abandoned. He's got no other place to go."

Harry's grin returned, sly and knowing. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?"

The Joker held his grip a moment longer, as though testing Jax's answer. Then, with a dramatic flourish, he released him and sat back. His grin returned, cold and dangerous.

Jax sagged backwards, his chest heaving as he leaned against the table for support. He flinched visibly when Harry gestured at him dismissively. Two of Harry's men stepped forward from the doorway, and the look in their eyes didn't leave room for questioning.

Louis stiffened at their approach, his voice hesitant. "What happens to him now?"

Harry chuckled. "That depends." He leaned in close to Jax, who shrank under his gaze. "Think you can still be useful?"

Jax swallowed audibly, nodding furiously.

Harry smiled, but it was devoid of humour. He glanced at his men, jerking his head toward the door. "Take him."

Jax offered no resistance, his steps shaky as Harry's men guided him away. He sent a desperate, fleeting glance back at Harry and Louis, but neither met it.

The Joker stood, looking over the establishment for a moment before his eyes flickered to Louis. "Let's go."

Louis followed him, releasing a slow breath as they stepped outside into the chilly night air. The tension lingered, still tangible through the drizzle of rain.

"Pier seventeen," Louis repeated after a moment, his tone measured.

Harry gave him an approving look as they headed down the alleyway, his grin softening. "Good ears, quick hands—" he said, an odd warmth creeping into the remark. "You keep this up, sweetheart, and we'll make a proper criminal out of you yet."

Louis didn't respond immediately but, as the dim glow of a streetlamp caught his face, the flicker of a smile evident on his lips. "Never."

Harry laughed lowly, but this one was real and raw. He glanced at Louis with a soft smile, and Louis rolled his eyes and looked away.

They were a team tonight—though Louis would die before admitting it outright.

***

The room's dim light cast long shadows, creating a sultry atmosphere that was only interrupted by the occasional flicker of a lamp.

Harry leaned casually against the edge of the desk, one leg crossed over the other, his posture deceptively relaxed. He wasn't wearing his gloves tonight, his bare fingers idly toying with a deck of cards, shuffling them with practised ease. His green eyes never left Louis.

He could see Louis' shift. His posture was more composed and still than usual as he stood against the window, taking in Gotham's skyline. The earlier tension between them was gone, replaced by something different—something almost submissive.

Harry took in every inch of him. How his hair clung to his forehead, the flush of exhaustion still painting his cheeks, his clothes, fresh and dry, sticking to his body from the remnants of rain. Louis looked almost angelic. The image was striking and unsettling.

Harry's green eyes sparkled with a mixture of amusement and something more dangerous as he observed Louis standing across the room. Harry couldn't help but let a small, almost imperceptible smile settle on his lips.

There was something in the air tonight—an unspoken understanding between them.

Harry raised an eyebrow, breaking the silence. "You're quieter than usual tonight," he teased. "Agreeable, even."

Louis turned to him, silent for a moment before he replied. "Mission went well," he said lightly.

Harry's mouth pulled into a slow grin, but his eyes stayed sharp, watching every move Louis made. "You're unusually sweet," he replied, his voice light, teasing. "What's the occasion, darling?"

Louis stayed facing him, a slight smile playing on his lips. "Isn't that what you wanted?" his tone was almost teasing too.

Harry tilted his head slightly, intrigued, but the edge of his amusement was still there. "Oh?" he drawled, the cards continuing to shuffle between his fingers. "What is it that you think I want?"

Louis took a step towards him. "Power, control," he listed on his fingers. "Me."

There was a lazy grin on Harry's face as he watched Louis step closer. "Sweetheart, you make it sound like I'm hard to please."

"Aren't you?" Louis countered. His voice was calm, and measured, but there was a flicker of something else beneath it—something deliberate.

The space between them was shrinking with every word, every movement. Louis' eyes flickered to Harry's lips for a fraction of a second, but Harry caught it.

"I'm sure you'd do just fine," The Joker's voice was low, testing.

The proximity between them was intoxicating. "I've been listening to you," Louis replied. "I've been good. Been doing everything you wanted."

Harry's grip on the card faltered. His breath hitched, just slightly as the words hit him in a way he wasn't expecting. "You think you've been good for me?" his voice dropped lower, the teasing gone now.

Louis leaned in closer, just a fraction of an inch, their bodies almost touching now. He met Harry's gaze, daring him to answer. "You don't think I've been good for you?" his voice was low, almost a challenge, but there was a sweetness in his tone that Harry hadn't heard before.

His eyes darkened with something more intense, something more possessive. He placed the cards down on the desk, his gaze never leaving Louis. "You think that's enough?" he said slowly, his eyes tracing the curve of Louis' jaw. He leaned forward just slightly, his voice dropping. "You think that's all I want from you?"

The air between them crackled with tension. Harry could feel the warmth radiating from Louis. Slowly, Harry reached out, his fingers brushing against the edge of Louis' jaw.

Louis swallowed. "Don't you?"

Harry didn't respond immediately. Instead, he let his fingers brush lightly against Louis' neck, testing the reaction, his thumb tracing the pulse at his throat, slow, deliberate. Louis didn't flinch. He barely breathed.

"And here I thought you liked the fight," Harry mused.

Louis didn't move, his breathing steady even as his heart seemed to climb. "Do you always keep score?" he asked, tilting his head just slightly as if to match Harry's intensity.

A flash of intrigue crossed Harry's face, and the hand at Louis' throat tightened just enough to remind him who was leading this game. "Oh, sweetheart, with you? Always."

Harry's thumb lingered just beneath Louis' jaw, a deliberate pressure that wasn't quite possessive but far from casual.

"You're watching me," Louis murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes catching Harry's gaze despite the instinct to avoid it. "Like you want something."

Harry's lips quirked into a faint smile. "I already told you what I want," he muttered, his voice dipping lower, intimate but sharp.

The words hung in the air between them, heavy and inescapable.

Louis didn't flinch. If anything, his gaze hardened slightly as he studied Harry. A glimmer of something flashed across his face—defiance, surrender, or perhaps both, warring silently behind his expression.

Louis swallowed and Harry felt the bob of his neck beneath his fingers. "I guess you did," he whispered.

Harry hummed softly, his fingers brushing Louis' throat. "All in, are you?" he finally asked, his voice quiet but sharp.

Louis' lips curved slightly as he spoke. "All in," he repeated softly.

Harry's green eyes flickered, the intensity of Louis' gaze catching him off guard. Slowly, he leaned closer, his breath warm against Louis' cheek. "Careful, sweetheart," he murmured. "You almost sound sincere."

"Maybe I am," Louis replied, his voice still steady, still sure, despite his racing pulse.

Harry's smirk widened slightly, his hand slipping from Louis' jaw to curl lightly around the back of his neck. "Is that so?" he muttered. "Ready to give me everything I want?"

Louis' eyes were dark as they looked at Harry. "You already have everything you want," he whispered. "You just have to take it."

Harry's fingers curled around Louis' neck, pulling him closer. "You want me to take you?" he asked, voice rich with menace and promise. His lips brushed against Louis' ear, sending a shiver down the boy's spine.

Louis didn't respond, only leaned in. His voice was a dangerous whisper, shrouded in a certain quiet confidence. "I'm already yours."

Harry hummed again, nose pressed against the boy's cheek. "You really have been good for me," he murmured, his voice soft, almost surprised, as he let his lips touch the side of Louis' mouth.

Louis pressed closer as Harry nosed at his cheek, their lips brushing slightly.

Louis let his hand trail along the edge of Harry's jacket. His fingers brushed against the pocket, light and deliberate. His heart pounded as he felt the cold edge of the key, just within his grasp—

Before he could make his move, Harry's hand shot out, gripping his wrist in an iron hold. "Ah," he said softly, his voice cutting through the charged silence. "There it is."

The glint of the small key dangled just out of reach in Harry's pocket, mocking him.

Harry huffed out a soft laugh. "You're full of surprises tonight, sweetheart."

Louis froze, his breath catching in his throat. His eyes snapped up to meet Harry's, panic flickering across his face. "I wasn't—" he started, but his voice faltered under Harry's piercing gaze.

"Wasn't what?" Harry asked, his tone deceptively calm. His grip on Louis' wrist tightened just enough to make his point. "Stealing from me? Lying to me?" his lips curled into a grin, sharp and dangerous. "Playing me?"

Louis stammered, his words tumbling over each other. "I—I wasn't trying to—"

"Don't lie," Harry interrupted, his voice low and cold. He leaned in closer, his lips touching Louis' ear. "You're sneaky, darling. I'll give you that. But you're not as clever as you think."

Louis swallowed hard, his body tense as he braced for whatever was coming. "I'm sorry," he managed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Harry's grin widened, but it wasn't angry. It was something else— almost impressed. "Don't apologise," he said, his tone soft but cutting. "Sneaky? Manipulative? You're more like me than I thought."

Louis' eyes widened, caught off guard by the unexpected response. He had prepared for anger, for punishment, but not this. "What?" he whispered, his voice shaky.

Harry's grip on his wrist loosened, his fingers brushing against Louis' hand in an affectionate gesture. "You're learning," he said, his voice laced with amusement. "And I have to admit, it's... exciting."

Louis pulled his hand back slowly, his mind racing. He had been caught, exposed, and yet Harry seemed almost pleased. The Joker's green eyes gleamed with a dangerous kind of approval, and Louis felt a chill run over him.

"You're playing a dangerous game, darling," Harry murmured, pulling back just enough to give Louis some space. "But lucky for you, I like games."

Louis took a shaky breath, his heart still pounding. "You're not mad?" he asked cautiously.

Harry laughed, the sound low and almost genuine. "Mad? No," he said, his grin softening into something darker. "I'm impressed."

Louis nodded, he tried to step back but Harry pulled him closer.

"Now," Harry said, his tone light as if nothing had happened. "Why don't you tell me what you were after?"

Louis hesitated, his eyes flicking down to Harry's lips, heart pounding at the closeness. "I—"

Harry raised an eyebrow, still holding Louis' wrist but with no real force. "I bet you're still thinking about it," Harry teased. "We could still kiss if you'd like, sweetheart."

Louis pushed away and Harry let him go. He stepped back just a little, but there was a hint of something on his face. "Ew," he muttered. "No thanks."

Harry chuckled. "How about next time don't get caught," he said with a smirk, eyes flicking over Louis in an almost appreciative way. "And Louis," he called, just as the boy turned away from him.

Louis glanced back around, meeting Harry's eyes.

"If you want something from me, all you have to do is ask," he pulled the key from his pocket and dangled it gently.

Louis rolled his eyes and left the room.

Chapter Text

32: Tales of a Trickster

——-

Louis pushed the door open, the familiar squeak of the hinges announcing his arrival. He paused in the doorway, his eyes adjusting to the dim lighting of the apartment. Harry was already there, lounging against the counter with a drink in hand. His coat was draped over the back of a chair, and his tie hung loose around his neck.

Harry glanced up, his lips curling into a grin. "Just in time," he drawled.

"Where are we going?" Louis asked, his tone wary as he stepped further into the room.

Harry didn't answer immediately. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys, tossing them toward Louis.

Louis caught them instinctively, frowning as he looked down at the familiar key fob. "What's this?"

"Your reward," Harry said simply, setting his glass down and straightening.

Louis raised an eyebrow. "For what?"

"For surviving last night without combusting into a fit of angst," Harry teased, his green eyes gleaming with amusement.

Louis rolled his eyes. "Hilarious." He tossed the keys lightly in his hand, watching Harry out of the corner of his eye. "Seriously, though. What's the catch?"

Harry smirked, crossing the room until he was standing just shy of Louis. "No catch, sweetheart. Just good old-fashioned trust," he said, the words dripping with irony.

Louis frowned but said nothing.

Harry clapped him lightly on the shoulder, guiding him toward the door. "Now, don't crash it. Or I will be mad," he added with a wink.

***

The hum of the engine filled the silence, punctuated only by the occasional swish of wipers clearing the drizzle from the windshield. Louis' knuckles were tight on the wheel, his posture rigid as he navigated the slick streets of Gotham. The city blurred past in streaks of neon and shadow, the only constants were the rain and the weight in his chest.

Harry, seated comfortably in the passenger seat, seemed completely at ease. His legs were crossed, one arm draped lazily over the seat. He glanced at Louis, his lips curling into a grin. "Something on your mind, sweetheart."

Louis didn't respond immediately. His eyes stayed glued to the road, his jaw set. "Focused on driving," he muttered, the lie thin and obvious.

"Focused on driving?" Harry repeated. "Since when does that stop you from running your mouth?"

Louis' fingers twitched slightly on the wheel, but he didn't rise to the bait. His silence stretched out, thick and uncomfortable.

Harry chuckled lowly, leaning back. "Let me guess," he said, his voice taking on a teasing lilt. "Still thinking about-"

"No," Louis cut him straight off, his grip on the wheel tightened. "I'm not," he said, but his voice lacked conviction.

"Aw, don't be shy," Harry continued, his grin widening. "You're cute when you're flustered. That whole awkward, moping thing you've got going on? Adorable."

Louis exhaled sharply through his nose, resisting the urge to glance at him. "Shouldn't you be focusing on the plan?" he asked, his tone clipped.

"I am focusing on the plan," Harry said breezily, waving a hand. "Step one: get to Pier Seventeen. Step two: find our friend O'Neil. Step three..." He tilted his head, his grin sharpening. "Well, step three's flexible. Depends on how cooperative he's feeling."

"Right," Louis muttered, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "A plan that's flexible. Great."

Harry's laughter filled the car, light and carefree. "You're lucky I like you, sweetheart," he said, leaning closer. "Otherwise, I'd be offended by that tone."

Louis didn't respond, keeping his gaze fixed on the road. The tension in his shoulders was palpable, but he refused to acknowledge the man beside him.

Harry smirked, clearly enjoying the game. "You know," he began, his voice softening just enough to be disarming, "you're not a bad driver. Steady hands, sharp reflexes..." He paused, watching for a reaction. "Shame about the personality."

Louis shot him a glare, finally breaking his silence. "Do you ever stop talking?"

Harry's grin widened, his green eyes gleaming with amusement. "Not when I've got such a captivating audience."

The car slowed as they approached the pier, the sprawling industrial lot coming into view. Stacks of rusted shipping containers loomed in the darkness, their edges catching the faint glow of distant streetlights. Louis pulled into a space near the edge of the lot, killing the engine. They pulled into the empty lot near Pier 17, the looming cranes and stacked containers casting long shadows under the sparse streetlights. The sudden quiet was deafening, broken only by the faint patter of rain.

Harry leaned back in his seat, watching Louis for a moment before pulling out a pair of comms from the glove compartment. He handed one to Louis, his expression turning more serious. "North end's yours," he said. "I'll take the south. Keep your eyes open. O'Neil's not the brightest, but he's got survival instincts. He'll run if he sees us coming and he'll be armed no doubt."

Louis nodded, slipping the comm into his ear before opening the door and stepping out into the cold night air.. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, the faint sound of droplets tapping against metal filling the otherwise quiet pier. The tension in Louis' posture hadn't eased, his shoulders still drawn tight. Harry followed suit, leaving the car and shutting the door behind himself.

He turned to study Louis for a moment. "You gonna be alright, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice laced with mock concern. "You seem off."

"I'm fine," Louis said shortly, passing Harry the car key.

The drizzle caught in Harry's hair and added a faint sheen to his skin. "If you say so," he murmured, slipping his comm into place. "Try not to get yourself killed."

Louis rolled his eyes, his boots crunching against the gravel as he moved toward the north end of the lot. The pier was quiet, the sounds of the city muffled by the weight of the rain. He adjusted the comm in his ear, trying to ignore the sound of Harry's whistling crackling through the line.

"You know," Harry began, his tone conversational, "this reminds me of a job I did years ago. Similar setup—dark night, shady pier, a few loose ends to tie up. Only difference is, I didn't have such delightful company."

Louis stayed silent, his focus on the shadows ahead. The containers loomed like giants, their edges jagged and menacing in the faint light. He moved cautiously, his steps deliberate.

"What? Nothing to say?" Harry prompted, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. 

Louis exhaled slowly, his patience wearing thin. "Just concentrating."

"Concentrating," Harry echoed, the word dripping with scepticism. "On what, exactly? The thrilling sound of my voice?"

Louis ignored him, his gaze scanning the rows of containers. The faint sound of footsteps caught his attention and he froze, his heart rate spiking.

"What is it?" Harry's voice came through the comm, sharper now.

Louis didn't respond immediately, his eyes narrowing as he caught a glimpse of movement. A figure darted between two containers, their silhouette briefly illuminated by the glow of a distant streetlamp.

"I've got him," Louis whispered into the comm, his voice low.

"Good boy," Harry purred. "I'm coming to you. Don't lose him."

Louis didn't reply, his focus entirely on the figure ahead. He moved forward, his steps light and careful, his breath steady as he closed the distance.

"Robin," Harry warned. "That means wait for me."

But Louis was already moving, his footsteps muffled against the wet ground as he crept closer. His pulse thundered in his ears, drowning out the sound of Harry's voice as he closed the distance.

He could hear Harry's voice faintly now, distant and crackling. "Dammit, Louis, don't do this."

The figure ahead paused, their head turning slightly as if sensing his presence. Louis froze, his breath shallow as he pressed himself tighter against the container.

And then the figure started running.

Louis cursed before beginning to chase him through the pier, dipping through lines of crates.

The pathways were narrow, dark, and slick with rain. Louis' breath came in ragged bursts as he sprinted, his boots splashing through shallow puddles that mirrored the dim glow of the streetlamps overhead.

O'Neil darted around a corner and Louis followed, the faint clink of his weapons the only clue to where he was. Louis' chest tightened with the effort but he pushed forward, determination seizing him. He couldn't let him get away. Not again.

The man spun suddenly, his blade flashing as he slashed at Louis. Louis barely had time to react. He ducked under the first swing, but the second came fast, a sharp arc aimed at his side. Louis sidestepped it, his pulse thumping in his ears, but the blade grazed his shoulder, leaving a subtle streak of pain behind.

"Dammit," Louis muttered, his body already moving before the pain could register fully.

He countered with a low kick, sending O'Neil stumbling back but he recovered quickly, rolling to his feet. They circled each other like lions.

"So this is what everyone's talking about?" O'Neil said, his grin sharpening. "Joker's little bitch? You're not much to look at."

He advanced but Louis was faster this time, closing the distance between them with a sharp strike to his opponent's ribs. The masked man grunted but before Louis could follow up, the blade was back, slashing in a wild arc. Louis narrowly avoided it, feeling the rush of air as it passed inches from his face.

"You're persistent," the man growled, his voice muffled by the mask. "I'll give you that."

Louis shifted his stance, trying to predict the next move but the man was relentless, the blade a blur. Louis' foot slipped in a puddle and, before he knew it, the masked man's blade found its mark. Pain exploded in Louis' side, a hot, searing burn that had him gasping, the air suddenly too thick to breathe.

O'Neil yanked the blade free with a grunt, watching Louis with a smug, satisfied expression. "That's the thing about being a bitch," he said, his voice low and taunting. "You're only as good as your master."

Louis staggered back, clutching at his side but the pain didn't stop. The man's smirk was barely visible under the mask but Louis could see it in his eyes.

Louis choked, his fingers pressing more firmly to his side. He could feel blood, warm and sticky, trickling down his hands. The world was spinning around him as the cold grip of dizziness took hold. His knees buckled slightly just as O'Neil raised his blade again.

"Robin!" Harry's voice broke through the fog, sharp and full of panic.

Louis blinked, his vision swimming as he tried to focus and make sense of the situation. 

O'Neil stepped back, glancing down the row before taking off and disappearing into the shadows.

Louis grunted and turned, his head lolled against the wall, vision blurring. Somewhere in the distance, through dizziness and nausea, he could make out The Joker's silhouette rapidly approaching.

Harry got to him and hesitated, his body angled as if to chase O'Neil. He took a few steps in the direction of the assailant but then he cursed under his breath and spun back toward Louis.

Louis tried to push him away, feeling the wetness on his suit spreading. "Go after him," he gasped, struggling to stand up.

Harry dropped to Louis' side and his hands were suddenly everywhere, moving with practised speed, but there was a tension to them, a kind of frustration that Louis could feel even through the pain.

Louis squirmed slightly, blinking to get a proper look at Harry. "He's getting away," he argued.

Harry's glare stopped him cold. "He's not going anywhere," he snapped, his hands quickly pressing against the wound. His fingers were cold, and the touch was strangely comforting.

 "You-you're supposed to..." Louis trailed off, his strength waning as he tried to gesture to the path O'Neil had disappeared down.

"I'm supposed to keep you alive," Harry shot back, his gaze flickering to the blood that was soaking Louis' suit. "Hold still."

"I'm fine," Louis whispered, his voice shaky as he tried to pull away, his body refusing to listen. He could feel the blood seeping out but his pride burned hotter than the pain.

Harry ripped a piece of his coat, using it to press against Louis' wound. Louis winced, a soft whine escaping his throat.

The Joker shook his head angrily. "I told you to wait for me," he hissed, tying the fabric around Louis' middle. He frowned when blood seeped straight through it, pressing his hand tightly to the wound. "Must you insist on fighting me?"

Louis whimpered at the force of Harry's touch. "Thought... you didn't care," he mumbled, his voice faint and slurred.

Harry's jaw tightened, his hands steady even as his expression betrayed him. "Don't get all sentimental on me," he muttered, shifting his grip. "You're not dying today."

Louis' hand clumsily found Harry's jacket, his fingers curling around the fabric. "Thought you'd leave me," he whispered.

Harry huffed out a laugh, looping his arm around Louis' back. "Okay, come here," he muttered, tucking his other arm under the back of Louis' knees. "I've got you," he said quietly, lifting Louis up. "There we go, sweetheart."

Louis' fingers tightened on Harry's jacket. "Don't drop me," he mumbled, his words slurring.

"Don't tempt me," Harry quipped, though his hold on Louis remained steady. He held Louis effortlessly in his arms, shifting slightly to make for a comfortable position. Louis clung to him, his arms wrapping loosely around Harry's neck.

"Stronger than you look," Louis mumbled, his head resting against Harry's shoulder. "Don't... let go."

Harry tightened his grip slightly, almost promisingly. "Not planning on it, sweetheart," he replied. "Made a deal. You're stuck with me, remember?"

Louis let out a faint, soft hum, his eyes fluttering shut as his energy seemed to drain from him. "Good..." he murmured, the word fading into the rain.

The walk to the car was slow but steady, Harry's grip was firm and grounding as they made their way through the pier.

"You still with me, sweetheart?" Harry asked, feeling Louis' grip around his neck loosening.

Louis didn't respond, his eyelids twitching as unconsciousness began to claim him. The rhythmic sound of Harry's footsteps was the last thing he heard before he drifted into darkness.

Harry glanced down but Louis' eyes were shut. "You thought I'd leave you here?" he muttered, almost amused. "Not a chance." His voice held a strange gentleness to it.

 When they reached the car, Harry carefully lowered him into the passenger seat. He manoeuvred Louis into a comfortable position before shutting the door.

He made his way to the driver's seat and started the car. He glanced at Louis, unconscious and pale, in the passenger seat and shook his head, nose twitching in anger. He drove at speed into the night.

***

The first thing Louis registered was the softness of the couch beneath him—a far cry from the cold, unyielding pavement of the alley. His body felt heavy, the ache in his side sharp but strangely dulled, as though muted by layers of cotton. His eyelids fluttered, the light beyond them too dim to be daytime but too bright to be the pitch-black comfort of unconsciousness.

He groaned, his head lolling to the side as the haze began to clear. The faint hum of rain against the windows lingered, a low backdrop to the muffled sounds of someone moving nearby. His fingers twitched against the coarse fabric beneath them, the sensation grounding him as his mind pieced together fragments of memory.

The alley. O'Neil. The knife.

And Harry.

His breath hitched slightly, and he forced his eyes open, squinting against the soft glow of a nearby lamp. The room was sparse but familiar—one of the many hideouts Joker kept scattered across Gotham. The faint scent of antiseptic hung in the air, mingling with the metallic tang of blood, though the latter wasn't as overpowering as he expected.

Louis hissed softly as he shifted, the movement pulling at his side. His hand instinctively moved to the source of the pain, his fingers brushing against bandages wrapped neatly around his torso. His suit was gone, replaced with a simple, oversized t-shirt and sweatpants that weren't his own.

"About time."

The voice, casual and familiar, drew his attention.

Louis' head turned toward the sound, his sluggish mind catching up with the figure leaning casually against the doorway. Harley was dressed down, his usual vibrant attire swapped for a black T-shirt and jeans. A first aid kit sat open on the small table next to him, its contents scattered in a manner that suggested recent use.

"Was starting to think you liked the attention," Harley added, stepping closer. "You've been out a while."

Louis shifted again, wincing as the stitches pulled. "Where...?"

"Safehouse," Harley answered, crouching next to the couch. "Boss wanted you patched up. Lucky for you, I've had practice." He gestured vaguely to the bandages, his hands deft as he checked the edges for any signs of fresh bleeding. "Cleaned you up, stitched you up. You'll live, birdie."

Louis blinked down at himself, the fog in his head slowly lifting. "My suit?" he asked, his hand tugging at the hem of the shirt.

"Had to cut it off," Harley said simply, his tone matter-of-fact. "It was soaked in blood, and you weren't exactly in a state to argue. Don't worry, I got the gear. Just not in one piece."

Louis let out a soft, tired huff of laughter. "Figures," he muttered. His fingers brushed over the bandages again, his brow furrowing. "You did this?"

Harley's grin softened, losing some of its usual sharpness. "What, you think the boss is handy with a needle and thread? Please. You're lucky he didn't staple you shut."

The comment drew a faint smile from Louis, though it quickly faded as his gaze flicked up to meet Harley's. "Well, thanks," he said quietly.

Harley stood, moving to the small kitchenette and grabbing a water bottle. "Drink," he said, tossing it to Louis. "You're running on empty."

Louis caught it, the movement slower than he intended. He twisted the cap off and took a long sip, the cool water soothing his dry throat. His gaze lingered on Harley, questions stirring in the back of his mind.

"You didn't have to stay," Louis said after a moment, his voice quieter now.

Harley tilted his head. "You think I was gonna leave you here bleeding out, waiting for him to come back? Nah." He rocked on his heels. "Besides, you're not half as annoying when you're unconscious."

Louis tilted his head, his gaze lingering on Harley. "This isn't the first time you've helped me," he said softly.

Harley's grin twitched, watching Louis carefully. "Ah. Falcone." The words were spoken lightly, but the weight behind them was clear.

Louis nodded faintly. "Yeah. Why?"

Harley straightened slightly. "Why'd I stop him?" he asked, his grin softening at the edges. He thought for a moment, his gaze drifting to the window. "Boss likes his games. Sometimes, he gets caught up in 'em. Doesn't see when someone's had enough," he explained. "Gotta know when to call the match, kid. Otherwise..." He flicked his wrist in a dismissive gesture. "Game over. No more fun."

Louis studied him for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly. "That's why?" he pressed, not entirely convinced. "To keep the game going?"

Harley smirked, finally turning back to face Louis. "Why else?" he countered.

Louis frowned. "Right," he muttered. "Thanks."

Harley's posture eased. "Don't mention it. Seriously," he added, his tone teasing. "I'll lose my reputation."

Louis let out a faint huff of laughter, though it quickly faded as his gaze flicked back to Harley.

"Rest up," Harley said. "Boss'll want to see you in one piece when you're ready. But don't worry—I'll keep him outta your hair for now." He moved towards the door.

"Wait!" Louis called. "You're going?" he asked, his voice softer now.

Harley tilted his head, studying Louis. "Was thinking about it. Why?"

"Can you..." Louis hesitated, his lips pressing together for a moment before he continued. "Can you stay for a bit?"

Harley's grin dropped momentarily, his brow quirking. "You think I'm your babysitter now?"

Louis let out a hollow laugh, though the effort seemed to drain him. "Guess not," he muttered, his gaze dropping to the bandages wrapped around his side. "Forget it."

Harley's gaze stayed fixed on Louis, considering him. There was no obvious shift in Harley's posture, no dramatic softening, but something in his expression changed—an almost reluctant understanding. 

"Alright, birdie. You win," He stepped closer, grabbed the chair from the corner and dragged it closer to the couch. He dropped into it with a casual sprawl. "But no bedtime stories," he teased. "And you snore, I'm out."

Louis rolled his eyes, though his exhaustion kept him from responding. Harley leaned back, propping his feet on the edge of the coffee table.

Louis' lips twitched into something that almost resembled a smile. "Thanks," he muttered, letting his head tilt back as the tension in his body eased.

Harley leaned back, his arms crossed over his chest. "You say that a lot," he commented. "Should make to your hero motto," he said and Louis snorted, making Harley smile. "Get some rest, little bird," he said lightly.

The room fell quiet except for the soft hum of rain against the windows. Louis' eyes drifted shut, the ache in his side fading as sleep tugged at him. The last thing he felt was the comforting weight of Harley's presence nearby, a rare and unexpected calm.