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The problem with being a loyal fan of a specific comics publisher — well, one of the many, many problems — is that you have to work really hard to maintain the illusion that the competition never, ever, ever ever ever, does anything right.
To do that, though, every once in a while you have to acknowledge that said competition does in fact exist, no matter how distasteful or disloyal such acknowledgment may be. Times are indeed a-changing but it is still somewhat frowned upon in polite fannish circles to criticize something you aren’t familiar with (only somewhat, mind you, this is the age of anonymous Internet commenting after all), and a dedicated fan will make a point of familiarizing oneself with the products of the competition if only to ascertain that those products are, indeed, still garbage. Having thus completed their unpleasant fact-checking duty, the fan may then return to their safe little bubble of smug superiority and resume hurling opinionated, expletive-laden comments at the enemy to their heart’s content.
Which is why we now find Bat-Mite in his basement —
“It’s a mancave.”
What?
“It’s not a basement, it’s a mancave. If you’re gonna do this narrating thing you might as well do it properly.”
… Fine. You do realize that the word mancave is rather pathetic though, right?
“Look, if you’re gonna be like that we might as well put the brakes on the story right now. This is no way to establish a proper narrator/character relationship. You’re very rude.”
You’re interrupting me and I’m the one being rude?
“It’s not an interruption if it’s in the interest of accuracy.”
Suit yourself. I’m not using that term without ironic quotation marks though so you’d better make your peace with that.
“That’s fair, I suppose. Carry on.”
Right.
As I was saying before this most unnecessary interruption (Bat-Mite glares and wriggles in his armchair), this is why we now find Bat-Mite in his “mancave,” putting down one of his latest forays into the world of the competition. He doesn’t slam the issue down to stomp on it for good measure as he usually does, though —
“It’s good exercise.”
— and instead, he lets it drop to the floor with a somewhat melancholy air. He stares at the cover, which proudly displays two men in tuxedos about to say I do to one another as they hold each other’s hands before a beaming, supportive crowd of loved ones, some of them in garish spandex. The picture is bright. It’s soft-filter. It’s fluffy and celebratory and there’s even a hint of a flower arrangement peeking at the bottom, all to communicate that this is, in fact, a Big Event, and that the competition is demonstrably unafraid to cross bigots in their bid for progressiveness — or whatever money progressiveness can buy.
Bat-Mite hates it.
Not because it’s a gay wedding — don’t get the wrong idea. It’s because the publisher made such a big deal out of it and marketed it as the first gay wedding in superhero comics history, which it demonstrably is not.
“Apollo and Midnighter got married in 2002,” Bat-Mite declares haughtily, “and it wasn’t even a publicity stunt! They did it because it was a natural progression for the characters, and they were main characters too, not some C-listers they aired out last minute just so Stan Lee could win some brownie points!”
He looks mournfully at the two happy men put front and center on the cover, and heaves a long-suffering sigh, remembering his favorite publisher’s controversy over the Batwoman wedding that never came to be. It’s just not fair. Sure, Batwoman got a solo series and will keep getting solo series because she’s just that awesome, and there’s plenty of queer characters in the DC roster to celebrate, but this blasted wedding thing…! There must be something he can do to one-up the competition on that front too, some sort of big, grand gesture he could manipulate into being that would put this 2012 circus to shame!
But who? Who could possibly have a gay wedding so big and spectacular and character-appropriate that it would shake the entire industry without being too out of the left field? Once again Bat-Mite thinks back to the Batwoman controversy and sighs, because while Kate Kane may have been denied the happy on-page nuptials she at least had some strong romantic relationships to draw on. If she couldn’t tie the knot because the brass thought a stable marriage would get in the way of the grimdark then the greatest superhero ever, who has never been allowed to even flirt with another man, doesn’t stand a chance…
But that can’t be. Batman is the greatest superhero ever, and whatever some mutants over at Stan Lee HQ can do, he can do better. That’s just a fact. There’s gotta be a way. Something Bat-Mite could do to prove that there’s a good reason why Homosexuality in the Batman Franchise is a real Wikipedia entry, and that Rainbow Batman could be more than just a silly Silver Age relic DC would much rather sweep under the rug.
The problem here is… who?
Okay, Bat-Mite can think of a couple likely candidates. The first character the general public would go for is obviously Robin — thanks for that, Fredric Wertham — but that would open the kind of can of worms Bat-Mite doesn’t really want to have anything to do with, and anyway, after Killing Joke the movie cradle-robbing Batman is old news.
James Gordon? That’s a whole other age gap problem. Two-Face? It could be interesting, but the past friendship plot doesn’t really offer all that much subtext to go build on without it seeming like a reach. Superman? That one has more than enough subtext as far as Bat-Mite’s concerned but the problem with that is, he’d be giving Superman a boost in the process, and he just won’t give Mxyzptlk the satisfaction. Besides, Bat-Mite doesn’t like Superman. It’s gotta be something to show up all of Batman’s competition, including rivals within his own circle.
Right, there’s nothing for it.
“To the Bat-Shelf!” Bat-Mite calls, and floats up to his thorough comics collection — and by thorough it has to be understood that he possesses every single Batman and Batman-related issue that has ever been printed, in mint condition — and reaches for the very first one, hoping for inspiration.
He looks at the cover.
He grins.
Of course.
It’s so obvious. Too obvious, really, and Bat-Mite wants to kick himself for not seeing it right away. There’s only one possible candidate in the whole of Batmanverse that would make this gay wedding shebang possible, and not just possible! Once Bat-Mite is through with them this union will seem inevitable! As obvious and natural, as integral to the entire mythology of the franchise as a reboot after a big crossover event, as core characters being brought back to life over and over again, as nasty hate campaigns over live action superhero movie’s casting choices! As something, in short, that should have happened decades ago and didn’t only because of outdated arbitrary mandates of heterosexuality at all costs!
Oh, this is going to be good. It’s going to be so, so perfect. Bat-Mite will get his big event, and Batman will go down in history not only as the greatest hero ever, but also as the greatest hero ever who married the greatest villain who ever graced a comic book page, and no one could ever ask for a more fitting match because the best thing about it is that Batman and the Joker are practically married already. The Joker certainly sees it that way and Batman might deny it to his grave but deep down he must understand the beauty and importance of their dynamic, and all Bat-Mite really has to do is get them, and DC at large, to see the light.
Okay, okay, okay. So we’ve got the who. Now we have to think about the how, or maybe, the when. Bat-Mite is the first to concede that the choice of an appropriate Bat-era is crucial here, because some of them offer more opportunities and wiggle room than others, but oh, he does like a challenge, and when he thinks of the potential for tragedy and pathos the darker eras afford he tingles from the tips of his toes to the pointy ends of his flappy bat-ears. It’s gonna be so good.
“So good, you guys!”
He paces around the room and thinks, and thinks, and thinks…
“Ah, what the hell,” he decides finally, “why speculate when we can just try and see?”
And so, eager to test his latest theory, he snaps his fingers, opens the transdimensional portal, and jumps right in.
His first stop is Rocksteady’s Arkhamverse. Just enough of that Dini preboot magic to balance dark and gritty with quality, and just enough blatant homoerotic tension between the two classic foes to turn subtext into text. It’s raining here because of course it is, so Bat-Mite fashions himself a stylish little pixel bat-umbrella and looks around. Batman is currently gliding in the air from roof to roof like a super cool ominous shadow of vengeance over the Lord of the Flies criminal shantytown that is Arkham City, and Bat-Mite is so excited to see it that he floats over the beautifully rendered square-jawed, angry, broody Caped Crusader for a while without letting himself be seen and simply soaks up the coolness.
And there is so. Much. Coolness. To soak up.
But then he must also consider how best to orchestrate something that will be just as poignant as the trilogy’s ultimate tragic ending. It’s not easy. He could make it so that Joker doesn’t fuck up and actually lets Batman feed him the Titan antidote, but he’s not sure he wants that. The image of Batman carrying the Joker’s dead body in his arms is too iconic to mess with, and in Arkhamverse, drama is really where it’s at.
Besides, the Joker hallucinations are the best part of Arham Knight. He won’t deprive the fans of that.
But there may be something else he can do to make that death scene even more of a gutpunch.
“I think you should get that,” Bat-Mite suggests, materializing next to Batman as one of Joker’s many messages electrifies Batman’s phone.
Batman staggers back reaching for a batarang, but once he realizes who he’s looking at, he groans. “What are you doing here? I’m in the middle of something important.”
“Looking for the Titan cure so you can give it to your life partner, yeah, I know. Hey listen, you really should get that.” Bat-Mite points at the phone which is still busy spilling the happy theme park jingle. “He doesn’t have much time and all he’s really doing is trying to reach out, you know? Have a proper conversation. He just doesn’t know how. And you’ll regret this later, trust me.”
At first Batman obviously wants to growl at him. Something heroic and stubborn, probably about how Joker is a murdering psychopath who brought it all on himself and decidedly not Batman’s life partner, and it would sound gravelly and gritty and also super cool in classic Conroy style…
The phone keeps ringing, and after a tense minute the lower half of Batman’s face loses some of its intensity.
“There is a cure,” he says. “He’s not going to die.”
Okay, that’s… not what he expected Batman would say. But Bat-Mite is nothing if not adaptable, and if Batman is really this shaken after he saw the state Joker’s in then that’s very good news for Bat-Mite’s scheme. Maybe he won’t even have to push all that hard.
“I’m sure you think so, but what if it doesn’t work?” he prods, assuming a mournful expression. “He’s your greatest arch-enemy! He’s been there for your entire crime-fighting career, challenging you, cheering you on, bringing out what’s best in you! Do you really want to leave things between you unresolved in case he doesn’t make it? He’s already in a lot of pain, do you really want him to spend his last hours feeling rejected too?”
You can’t really tell when Batman is not frowning at you when he’s wearing the cowl, but Bat-Mite has the distinct impression that the frown is getting… well, frownier.
“What do you know?” Batman asks, and there isn’t much grit in his quiet voice at all.
Triumphant, Bat-Mite points at the phone.
“You should get that.”
Right on cue, Joker’s voice croons out, “Hellooooooooo? I’m not sure that you got my call earlier. I’m dying to speak to you. Call me, Ba—”
Batman puts the phone to his ear and says, “Joker.”
For a moment the line is silent and Bat-Mite holds his breath.
Then Joker laughs, and it’s rushed and giddy and just a little desperate, and Bat-Mite wants to punch air because damn Mark Hamill is good even when they’re veering into unscripted territory.
“I knew you weren’t dead!” Joker cries out, excited like a child who discovers there are presents for him under the tree after all. “You wouldn’t leave me alone. No, no, no, not you.”
“What do you want?”
“I only want to talk. To chat! Have a merry little chinwag! How’s the rooftops tonight, mmmm? Is it very chilly out there? Tell me where you are, darling, distract me! My skin keeps popping open and everything hurts and I —” Joker’s voice breaks out into coughs and Batman waits until he can speak again.
His mouth curls down, thinning into a pinched line. The expression of worry is so striking and obvious now that Bat-Mite is paying attention that he wants to kick himself for taking so long to think of playing matchmaker.
“I blame Catwoman,” Bat-Mite whispers conspiratorially on the side.
“What?” Batman asks, and Bat-Mite schools his face into the very best approximation of angelic innocence he can muster. He waves to signal that it’s nothing, and in the meantime, Joker’s coughing fit seems to be easing up.
“Sorry,” Joker apologizes, wheezing like a man twice his age, “I guess I should take it easy. So… tell me what you’re doing. I want to know. I… I want to listen to your voice.”
“You brought this on yourself, Joker,” Batman accuses, but his voice never rises above a whisper, and there’s a raw edge in it that breaks Bat-Mite’s heart into tiny little pieces.
“I know,” Joker allows, “I know. That’s the way it always is, am I right? Karma will always get you. But darling, you must realize, I was doing it all for you.”
“You shouldn’t have,” Batman parries, and Joker tries to laugh, only he starts coughing again instead. It sounds so painful that Bat-Mite can barely listen to it, and it seems that neither can Batman.
Because next time he opens his mouth, it is to say, “I’m on my way to Fries. The night is… cold.”
“Hope you brought the warm tights, then!” Joker prattles happily. “Can’t have both of us dying now, can we? Oh wait, we are! Sorry, I keep forgetting the whole blood thing, how silly of me.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” Batman says.
It takes a moment for Joker to reply.
“Yes I did.”
“No. I would have tried to get you a cure anyway.”
“Would you, now,” Joker says, and this time his voice is quiet.
“You know I would.”
Once again the line is silent.
“Keep in touch,” Joker asks before the connection dies.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Bat-Mite decides, popping invisible once again and floating up to give himself another few moments to absorb the gorgeous computer graphics and haunting atmosphere around him.
He doesn’t know if that little gesture will result in any major changes. Probably not. Joker is nothing if not self-destructive and he’ll probably try to go ahead with his scheme anyway because that’s just who he is. But maybe this time at least they will have a chance to talk a few things through, and…
Well, maybe this time Batman will listen to Joker’s serenade before it’s too late to say the words back.
Imagining that puts Bat-Mite in a melancholy mood, and he’s sniffing into his own sleeve before he remembers that playing matchmaker is all well and good, but didn’t he have a wedding to plan? This obviously isn’t the right universe to do it in unless he wants to try and convince Batman to go back to Joker so they could both confess their feelings for one another and have a teary little ceremony with just the two of them before it’s too late; and romantic as the idea is, Bat-Mite doesn’t think it’s the sort of big dramatic event he’s in the mood for.
So!
He snaps his fingers again and leaves tragic, broody Arkham Batman to his mission as he ponders his next destination.
His visit to Arkhamverse may have been a misfire but it’s still put him in a mood for that darker vibe. Darker and tragic. He wasn’t quite willing to mess with one universe where the Joker dies, but there are plenty of others, and there’s bound to be something…
He stops. His eyes go wide.
Frank Miller.
Oh man, oh man, oh man! Is he willing to mess with that? Is he actually okay with preventing one of the most iconic scenes in comics history? Oh gosh. Oh dear. On the one hand, that scene is so classic and perfect that interfering with it would make Bat-Mite feel like a criminal, but on the other…
Bat-Mite gnaws on his fingernails through the gloves so hard he almost bites clean through the material.
Oh, what the hell! He can pop in, just for a little look. For a glimpse, just a glimpse, into what could have been. And then he’ll be out and he’ll make things right and proper again, and the comic — sorry, graphic novel —will stay the same, and nobody will even notice he’s tinkered with anything. Now that he’s thought of this idea, Bat-Mite has to know if it can even work, and so he sends up an earnest apology to the Miller God before he can talk himself out of it, snaps his fingers, and lands in the middle of the late-night fair.
Immediately he spots the Joker in his stylish white suit, ready to give his bomb-doll to a child in the roller coaster cart, his other robot child Bobby milling like an obedient lapdog at his feet. It would actually be kind of cute if it wasn’t so damn disturbing, and Bat-Mite holds his breath and looks to the sky. Any minute now…
Only when he spots the magnificently cool silhouette of the Dark Knight descending from the sky like the wrath of the bat-gods does he realize he doesn’t actually have a plan for this universe. Should he interfere with the fight? Should he let it play out and only try to make it so the tunnel of love has a different conclusion? Gaaaah, decisions, decisions!
And as he grapples with his options, below him, the fight gets serious. Bullets fly. The batarangs fly. They lodge themselves in the Joker’s shoulders and eye, and he cries out, and runs towards the hall of mirrors, and damn, it’s all happening so fast and the air is thick with old Batman’s milleresque thought bubbles and Bat-Mite doesn’t know what to do.
So he waits for inspiration. He follows the two men and watches the carnage and heartbreak, and it’s not until Joker runs into the Tunnel of Love that he finally remembers that Carrie Kelley is a part of this story.
He finds her immediately, traumatized from her latest adventure, blinking back tears, trying to make her way down from the roller-coaster on shaky, shaky legs. He materializes in front of her and has to float her in mid-air so she doesn’t plummet to her death when she sees him and screams.
“Hi, I’m Bat-Mite,” he says urgently, floating them both down to ground level and then towards the Tunnel of Love. He hopes he’s not too late. “No time to explain. Your man is about to kill the Joker and you gotta hurry.”
He drops her off by the mouth of the tunnel, the dead bodies still floating face-down in the water. For a moment Bat-Mite worries that it’ll be all too much for Carrie, but thankfully, she’s made of sterner stuff, and her face hardens with determination once she figures out she’s got a new goal. Bat-Mite likes this girl.
He makes himself invisible again as he follows Carrie into the tunnel. His heart is pounding. He has no idea if any of it will work, and in the distance the Joker is already stabbing Batman with his knife, again and again and again, and Batman is reaching out to capture his head in his hands —
“Stop!” Carrie cries out, and she shoots a tranquilizer dart into the Joker’s neck before he can stab Batman again.
Batman freezes. The body he’s holding does too, for just a blink, and then it collapses, limp in his arms.
He catches the Joker before the other man hits the water, breathing heavily, bleeding out.
“What…” he wheezes, breath rattling, “what…?”
“You were gonna kill him,” Carrie states, panting, coming up to him.
“I…”
“You were. And you can’t. You know you can’t.”
“I… he’s…”
For a long moment nobody speaks.
Then, police sirens claw their way into the tunnel, and Carrie’s face once again goes hard with purpose.
“We gotta get outta here,” she commands. “You’re bleeding out.”
Batman is still holding the Joker’s body in the water.
“What about…”
“I dunno.” Carrie lets herself look helpless for just a heartbeat. “Leave him. Let the police get him. Or…”
Once again the two of them fall silent.
Then, Batman grunts, and hefts the Joker’s body over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. “Let’s go,” he manages, and takes the first unsteady step.
Carrie doesn’t question his decision. She nods, curling her hands into fists.
“I’ll get the copter,” she decides and rushes out of the tunnel.
Batman follows her at a decidedly slower pace, wading through the water with his back bent under the weight of the Joker, his wounds trickling a bloody trail behind him, his pained grunts shooting off into the Papier-mâché walls. Bat-Mite floats alongside them and, subtly, closes them in a bubble of readjusted time just as he slows down the time around them so the police won’t get them. Batman is in no shape to fight right now and Bat-Mite wants to see them make it out alive.
Finally they do, and Batman climbs the ladder up to the copter with the Joker’s unconscious body balancing precariously on his shoulder. At one point he falters and the body shifts, about to fall, but Batman catches the Joker by his legs and doesn’t let him.
He climbs all the way into the cockpit and drops the Joker on the floor. He takes a seat behind Carrie and buckles in.
“Where to?” Carrie asks. Outside, Bat-Mite snaps his fingers and lets time catch up with their small reality bubble again.
Bullets whizz and whip around them. They lodge themselves into the copter or bounce off it. Batman is still looking at the Joker, both of them bleeding onto the metal floor.
“The cave,” he rasps. “Hurry up.”
They manage to make it out of the fair more or less in one piece, and Bat-Mite follows them, feeling giddy with both excitement and a heady cocktail of fear and shame.
“I’m so sorry, Frank Miller.”
He isn’t all that sorry though. Not really.
And especially not when he fast-forwards through the painful process of physical healing, and Batman’s decision to keep Joker in the cave because “he’s too dangerous to let him out there,” and through a ton of poignant conversations between the two enemies who are trying to connect after ten years of being apart, and even more years of willful denial and misunderstanding. Joker loses the one eye and has to wear an eyepatch. He loves it. Says it makes him look distinguished, and like a pirate. He smiles at Batman when he says it, and after a while, the Batman begins to smile back.
Just a little.
The battle with Superman still happens, and so do the riots, the death, the destruction. Batman still moves his Mutant gang underground. He’s still the general in their own vigilante war. But instead of just Carrie standing beside him now he’s flanked on both sides, looking balanced for once, and the figure on his left is tall and pale and ghostly, and the Mutants respect him to the point of superstition.
They start to call him “Other Boss.” Some of them are selected for the Joker’s personal retinue, and do things Batman would rather not know about. Bat-Mite tries but he can’t exactly pinpoint the moment when the Joker and Batman start to plan, work, and fight together; it happens organically, bit by bit, second by second and word by word. During those late nights of the two of them sitting together, trying to fit into one another in a whole new way. All Bat-Mite knows is that it happens before they start to sleep together, too, and that…
“I’m just gonna leave it to your imagination,” he says with a wink, and then, satisfied and somewhat wistful, he pops out of the Dark Knight Returns universe to think about what to do next. That was thrilling, but there was still no wedding, and much like in Arkhamverse Bat-Mite isn’t all that sure it’d be appropriate, or even necessary.
Briefly, he considers a visit in nu52. He almost dismisses the idea out of hand because of all the extra extra baggage Scott Snyder saddled the Batman/Joker relationship with, but then he thinks, Wait a second, didn’t Snyder also leave them with a perfect way out? A fresh start? All Bat-Mite has to do is jump into the Alternate Universe branch in which the new Joker isn’t quite yet Jokerized, and then just pick one of the many, many possible routes that extend from that point on! Why, it’s a piece of cake!
Reenergized, Bat-Mite tries the idea out and consequently spends some very pleasant hours fast-forwarding where appropriate and letting AU Bruce Wayne and “Jack” court one another, date and eventually tie the knot. He even wrangles all of Gotham’s usual chaos so the two lovebirds can actually get that far, and man, Gotham has a lot of chaos to wrangle. But it’s worth it in the end. Bat-Mite floats over the calm, private wedding ceremony and the scene is romantic and relaxing, even if somewhat bittersweet because of all the history lagging behind the newlyweds that they don’t even seem to be aware of.
And that… makes it not quite right.
So Bat-Mite leaves the two men to get on with their honeymoon and feels kind of content, but also itching for something to scratch that “not quite right” itch. This scenario, unlike the first two, was almost too easy. Next time he visits that particular universe he thinks he should make it so that Bruce Wayne remembers he’s Batman and at one point “Jack” realizes he’s Joker, or maybe a universe where they both knew all along but didn’t know the other knew, and whoa, so many options! So much promising potential! Yeah, Bat-Mite will definitely be revisiting that scenario next time he feels like playing Cupid.
For now, though, he pops out of the nice little bubble of impending domestic bliss and considers his next move. Okay. Okay. Should he stick to dark? He kind of wants to, just to see if he can make it work. The challenge of arranging for a Batman/Joker romance even with the specter of dead Robins and paralyzed Batgirls standing between them is daunting but all the more exciting because of it. What if… what if…
… Ooooh, what if he jumped into a pre-boot Alternate Universe in which the Joker grows old as a prisoner in the Slab, and Batman visits him from time to time, realizing, as the years go by, just how much they do need one another… and what if Bat-Mite then set the Joker free, planting the idea of a wedding in his mind… And what if he helps Joker get back to Gotham and end things, once and for all, one way or another…
Bat-Mite likes the idea. He’s pumped for it. He’s ready to snap it into existence and watch it all unfold.
And then he realizes that actually, scratch that. No. He’s had enough of dark and bittersweet. Any more of it and he’ll get depressed, plain and simple, and that’s not what weddings are supposed to be about, right?
Right?
Yeah, sure, there are ways to arrange for a Batman/Joker wedding in dark universes. And maybe he will, next time he gets bored. But for now, what Bat-Mite really craves is a big, loud, colorful ceremony with hosts of friends and loved ones to rival what That Other Publisher did in 2012. And he can’t actually have Batman’s friends and loved ones attend a wedding between him and the Joker and be supportive of it in universes where both Death in the Family and The Killing Joke happened.
Dammit, maybe he should rethink the whole nemesis thing and go with something a bit more conservative, a bit more dull, just to make it easier…
*Cough.*
Bat-Mite’s floppy ears snap up. “Huh? You said something?”
No. I coughed.
“Right. Um… want a cough drop?”
Yeah, actually, but that’s not what I — look, I wanted to get your attention. You were being defeatist and I have an idea that might help.
“Oh?”
The Silver Age.
Bat-Mite’s eyes go saucer-round. His mouth falls open.
“The Silver Age.”
Yup.
“The Silver Age.”
Yeah. You know. Just a thought.
Bat-Mite floats in place for about a minute before his mouth splits into a grin so wide you’d think he was infected with Laughing Gas.
He rubs his hands together. Ooooh, this is gonna be good.
“Let’s do this!”
He snaps his fingers, and the world explodes into color.
Bat-Mite takes it all in, the refreshing brightness of a Silver Age Gotham City on a sunny day, then takes a deep, deep breath and sighs with contentment. His eyes hurt a little from the contrast, straining after all the grimdark, but that’s okay. He’ll adjust soon. He’s beginning to feel the energy and enthusiasm flowing back in already, and nods to himself. Yeah. This was a good choice.
Now…
He casts around for the objects of his matchmaking frenzy.
He’s in luck — there’s an alarm going off a few blocks down. He follows the noise just in time to see the Joker exiting a bank, lugging heavy bags of cash and then loading them into the gloriously garish Jokermobile in broad daylight. The Mountebank of Mirth is laughing with genuine delight as he hops around the car and claps, watching his henchmen load the other bags of cash into a nondescript van.
“Hurry, hurry, my little helpers!” he calls, twirling. “I’ll wait here for Batman while you get those pretties back to the Ha-Hacienda!”
“Sure thing, boss!” one of the henchmen calls as he jumps into the van. The other men pile in after him and hightail it down the street, while the Joker sits behind in his own car and taps a merry jingle against the wheel, giggling to himself.
They don’t have to wait long. Soon enough the Batmobile sharpens in the distance, a blur of black standing out in the cityscape almost as much as Joker’s ridiculous vehicle, and the Joker exclaims a happy “Woohoo!,” starts the car and launches down the street to take the opposite turn and lead Batman away from the loaded van.
He sticks his hand out through the window and waves at Batman while he’s at it. Bat-Mite claps, following the two vehicles in the air. The good old-fashioned thrill of the chase gets to him, and he gasps and cries out at the twists and sharp turns which are as spectacular as they are illegal. It’s everything one could hope for from a classic Silver Age story and more, especially when the Joker catapults himself from the car and kickstarts a rocket pack strapped to his back, leaving the money bags — probably decoys — behind and somehow, miraculously, not setting his coattails on fire. Comic book logic, Bat-Mite thinks fondly, and looks down.
On the ground, Batman watches Joker’s air ballet with a smirk. He stops the car. He calls, “Leaving so soon, Joker? We haven’t even tangoed yet!”
“If you want to tango, you have to prove you’re a worthy partner, my dear Dark Knight!” the Joker calls back, twirling in the air, drawing HA HA HA’s with the smoke from the rocket pack.
“Playing hard to get?” Batman parries. “Soon we’ll see who’s worthy of whom!”
It looks like he is about to summon Batwing, but Bat-Mite has a better idea. He pops into visibility next to him.
“I can do you one better!” he says, and snaps his fingers to endow Batman with a rocket pack of his very own.
“What are you doing here?” Batman asks, instantly suspicious, but Bat-Mite just points to the sky and the serpentines of letters and laughter trailing across it.
“I’ll explain later, he’s getting away!” he urges.
Batman doesn’t need to be told twice. He gazes after the escaping Joker and his face sets into purpose, and he mutters, “This better work” before he presses the big red button and launches himself into the air.
Bat-Mite whoops and does a victory pirouette, then makes himself invisible again and follows the two men as they twirl and circle one another in the sky, sketching smokey patterns that intertwine with one another before dissolving into nothing. Batman tries to catch Joker by his legs. He misses once, twice, again, parrying the Clown Prince of Crime’s playful barbs with some of his own, and he’s smirking as he does, and Bat-Mite is having so much fun watching them he almost feels wistful that modern canon would never give him a Batman who’s actually enjoying himself.
Everything in moderation, he reminds himself, and appreciates the moment for what it is.
“You’ll never catch me, you great Caped Bully,” the Joker croons, pirouetting out of Batman’s grasp yet again.
“I’ve grown rather skilled in catching you, Joker,” Batman calls back, just as he manages to finally latch onto one of Joker’s coattails and pull the clown towards him. “There! Try as you might, you’ll never get away from me!”
Joker tries to trash free but Batman disables his rocket pack with a well-placed punch to the controls, and lets the useless device plummet to the ground as he holds onto the Joker’s shoulders. Then, the two men float gently to the ground and make a neat landing straight into the Batmobile, where Batman immediately handcuffs Joker, who doesn’t seem too concerned.
“Joke’s on you, Bat-boob!” he boasts. “You let my boys get away with the money and now you’ll never catch them!”
“You’ve led me a good chase, Joker,” Batman replies calmly, “but actually, your boys are already waiting for you at the Pen! What do you think my pal, Robin the Boy Wonder, was doing while we danced? He was rounding up your henchmen with Commissioner Gordon’s forces!”
“Oh phooey!” Joker laments, but when Batman closes the roof over them both and starts the car he doesn’t seem too dejected underneath the theatrics. “I have to admit, that is rather funny,” he allows, settling comfortably in the passenger seat, his long legs hardly fitting into the car. “You’re always good for a night out, Batman!”
“I won’t dignify that with a response,” Batman insists, but once again he’s smirking. “You don’t mind losing your loot so soon?”
“Bah, who cares about the stupid money,” Joker says dismissively. “I can just steal some more when I’m out again. And I will be out, Batman, make no mistake about that!”
“And I’ll always be there to stop you.”
“Exactly. That’s what makes it fun.”
Batman doesn’t comment on that, but oddly enough, the two men look comfortable in the silence that follows, and stay that way until the car pulls to a stop by the GCPD, where Gordon and Robin are already waiting.
“Gee whiz, Batman, you’ve done it again!” Robin cries when he sees Batman escort the cuffed Joker out of the car.
“Well done, Batman, thwarting the Joker’s plans!” Gordon adds.
“All in a day’s work, Commissioner,” Batman says modestly, keeping his hand on the small of Joker’s back. “Take good care of this one. I wouldn’t want him to break out again too soon!”
“Thanks for a good time, Bat-Brain,” Joker says, blowing Batman a kiss. “Till next time!”
When Gordon pulls him into the station by the cuffs, he goes willingly enough, and Batman watches him disappear with Robin at his side.
“Gosh Batman, if only there was a way to keep him out of crime permanently!” Robin sighs. “The city would be so much safer!”
“I’m afraid that’s impossible, old chum,” Batman says quietly. “The Joker is much too addicted to the thrill of rivalry, and to the joy of matching his wits against mine!”
Bat-Mite grins and pops up over Batman’s shoulder. “There is a way, actually,” he teases.
Both Batman and Robin recoil. “You again!”
“I come in peace,” Bat-Mite assures them before they can bounce a batarang off his adorable face. “I did help you back there, didn’t I?”
“You did,” Batman allows grudgingly, and finally shrugs the rocket pack off his shoulders. “Though I would have caught that Gruesome Grinning Ghoul without you!”
“What do you mean, there is a way?” Robin demands.
“Let’s get back to the cave and I’ll tell you all about it,” Bat-Mite promises.
Batman and Robin look at one another. They look at Bat-Mite.
“You’re gonna want to be sitting down for it,” Bat-Mite explains. “It might… take a while.”
“I suppose anything that helps keep the Joker off the streets is worth exploring,” Batman judges at length.
Bat-Mite grins. “Later I’m gonna remind you you said that.”
And he does. Much, much later, when Batman is jumping to his feet ready to protest that no, he absolutely does not have any feelings for the Joker at all, he could never fall for a criminal, he only thinks of the Joker as a worthy adversary and nothing more, Bat-Mite reminds him of his own words, and then adds, “Yeah, actually you can be attracted to criminals. A lot of them. Does Catwoman ring a bell? Talia al Ghul?”
Batman looks at him quizzically. “Who?”
“Damn, wrong era.” Bat-Mite shakes his head. “Nevermind! The argument still stands. You can absolutely be attracted to criminals, and you have. And you do realize that the Joker is attracted to you, you just don’t wanna admit it. Just — think about it, okay? Keep an open mind. And if you happen to come to the conclusion that I’m right, just, uh, call my name three times and I’ll take care of everything else. Okay?”
“I —,” Batman is saying, but Bat-Mite quickly makes himself invisible again to give Batman some much needed time and space.
He rubs his hands. The Silver Age Joker is not a murderer, or not as ruthless a murderer as he is in other incarnations, and Batman flirts back at him readily enough, and he thinks — he hopes — that a gentle nudge in the right direction is all that’s gonna be needed here.
And he’s right.
It only takes another Joker escape and subsequent wacky crime spree, another fight, another spat charged with sexual tension. Another car ride back to Gordon, and Joker’s quiet happiness at another satisfying turn with “Batsy” which he tries to cover up with an affectation of outrage that’s paper-thin now that Batman is actually trying to see past it.
“You really don’t care about money, do you?” he asks quietly before he lets Joker out into the waiting arms of Gordon’s police.
“Oh Batman, of course I don’t,” Joker replies easily. “You’re the one who gives me purpose.”
Batman hesitates, and Bat-Mite, caught between the two of them in the car, sucks in a breath.
“You mean that?”
“Naturally. Why, Batsy, is there something on your mind?”
“Do you think you’ll ever get tired of this… game?” Batman asks quietly.
“With you? As long as you keep responding to me? I don’t think so.”
“And what if I ever tried to — to change the rules?”
Joker’s smile slowly slips away. “What do you mean?”
Batman shakes his head, looking frustrated. “Nevermind. You’re going to jail now.”
“All for the best, I need time to plan for my next caper anyway,” Joker giggles, his good humor restored. “It’s gonna be a doozy!”
“You’d better make it one, or I might grow bored,” Batman threatens with an edge of playfulness, probably to cover up his earlier embarrassment.
“Awwwwww, never. I’ll keep you on your toes, you can count on that.” It’s Joker who hesitates this time, but apparently some of the signals Batman’s been sending have gotten through, because very quickly he leans in and steals a chaste kiss to Batman’s cheek. “Till then!”
For a moment it looks like Batman might actually blush, and the scene is so adorable Bat-Mite can’t help but d’awwwwww at it himself. This is going so well. It’s exactly what he’d been hoping for. Now he only needs to sit back, relax, and let things play out.
Or, you know. Fast-forward the shit out of this universe until they do.
Which he does, stopping a few times to admire some particularly moving scenes of flirting from both sides, with Batman getting bolder and bolder with his advances each time Joker reacts positively. It’s just too cute. Too pure. It’s like watching the world’s most innovative romantic comedy, and Bat-Mite’s little fannish heart swells with each passing scene of courtship disguised as crime and crime-fighting.
He particularly enjoys the first kiss, which, once again, happens in the car after another fight — though at this point it’s more appropriate to call it a date. Joker leans in to kiss Batman’s cheek, something that’s become a habit between the two of them. For a split second, Batman looks tortured and conflicted, but then Bat-Mite blinks and the expression’s gone. Batman turns his head, just in time to catch Joker’s lips with his own. And though the kiss is close-mouthed and not even all that long it’s still one of the most romantic moments Bat-Mite’s ever seen.
From there, it’s practically a straight leap (”Gay leap?”) to Batman proposing — on a rooftop, at night, with the bat-signal cast onto the clouds behind him — and Joker gasping and jumping into his arms, and another kiss, much longer and deeper this time. Bat-Mite really wishes he could see the scene drawn by Neal Adams, or by Trevor von Eeden, or Irv Novick. It’d be classic. Such a perfect moment.
Still! Bat-Mite’s happy he gets to see it at all, and that means that his ultimate goal, the reason he embarked on this matchmaking journey in the first place, is imminent. Time to get ready!
The negotiations don’t take very long at all. At Batman’s request Joker plays along with his doctors, legal advisers and probation officers to present himself as a model citizen, reformed and remorseful to a fault. It’s enough to secure a probationary release. From there it’s smooth sailing complete with tasteful invitations sent out to practically everyone who matters in the DC universe, endless arguments between Alfred and Joker over who should be in charge of the wedding planning, cleaning and decorating frenzies at the Manor and everything that comes with preparing a great big spectacle.
And when the day itself comes, it is awesome. A temporary truce and probation have been declared between superheroes and supervillains — not without a lot of threatening on the Joker’s part to achieve the latter — and as a result, Wayne Manor is milling with heroes in dazzling formalwear who rub elbows with the likes of Lex Luthor, the Penguin or Poison Ivy. Most of the heroes are in disguise, upholding the illusion that it is Bruce Wayne getting married to the Joker instead of Batman, but even so the atmosphere is tense to say the least. Thankfully, any arguments are very swiftly and decisively dealt with by Alfred, who glides through the assembly like a fairy godmother, diffusing tension with a few choice words which are just as effective as a magic wand. His magic touch extends to whipping catering teams into shape, directing incoming guests, wrangling wedding presents and inspecting everything down to the tiniest detail. Everything needs to be perfect for his Master Bruce… even though his choice of life partner, according to Alfred, leaves much to be desired.
A lot of the decorations are gaudy and purple. Looks like the Joker got his way in some things, despite Alfred’s iron hand. Bat-Mite grins. He almost feels sorry for Batman, caught in a crossfire between these two for a good few months… but not too sorry. Batman is getting a husband out of it, after all.
When the ceremony starts in the Manor’s ballroom, Bat-Mite perches on the floor by the minister’s pulpit. Jim Gordon is ready to officiate, looking uneasy and uncomfortable but determined to see this through all the same like the champ he is, and beside him, in a white tux, Bruce Wayne keeps readjusting his collar and looking almost shy. Crowds file in, carefully separated into two sides — heroes and generally assorted good people on the right, villains on the left. There’s a moment of tense expectation.
Then, the Mendelssohn blasts, and Joker strides down the carpet on his own, looking handsome and festive in his own white tux that matches Wayne’s. He’s holding flowers and throwing them around at the pews as he goes, radiating joy through dazzling smiles and bright, bright eyes.
“He wanted a big entrance,” Wayne whispers to Gordon, who looks vaguely horrified. “I didn’t have the heart to refuse him.”
“I think this is all a big mistake, but it’s your funeral,” Gordon mutters. “Sorry: wedding.”
Wayne smiles sheepishly, then turns back to his groom, who in the meantime has walked the length of the carpet and joined him by the pulpit. He’s managed to get rid of all the flowers, and uses his now-free hands to hold Wayne’s.
“You look dashing,” he whispers, winking.
Wayne squeezes his hands. “Likewise.”
Gordon clears his throat and asks, “May we begin?”
“Sure thing, Commish!” Joker exclaims, turning his dazzling smile to him. “Go ahead and marry us!”
Gordon clears his throat. “Dearly… beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union between one of Gotham city’s greatest benefactors and an ex-criminal who has shown remarkable progress and a genuine desire to reform, and it is my great honor and privilege to —”
He drones on, and Bat-Mite can barely sit still with excitement. It’s happening. It’s actually happening! And it’s perfect, with all the pomp, ceremony and spectacle one could possibly hope for, but also with genuine earnestness underneath it all. The only thing missing…
… Oh, what the hell. Does he have reality-warping powers, or doesn’t he? He can go all out if he wants. It’s his Alternate Universe.
So he snaps his fingers and populates the pews with characters that have no right to exist in the Silver Age. He starts with the Robins, sparking them into existence next to a beaming, elegant Dick Grayson: Jason Todd in his grown-up Red Hood persona (Bat-Mite only feels marginally guilty about that), Tim Drake, Damian Wayne. Duke Thomas. The Batgirls: Stephanie Brown and Cassandra Caine, and of course Barbara Gordon, mobile and unharmed. Kate Kane. Renee Montoya, Harvey Bullock and the rest of the MCU. Gotham Man and Gotham Girl. New members of the Justice League, appearing next to their oblivious counterparts. Harley Quinn also materializes, next to Poison Ivy, leaning on her arm. The Al Ghuls stand tall and proud among their villain associates, next to Bane, elegant in a tailored suit. They’re all completely divorced from their realities, their minds attuned to this particular universe, and so they can be happy for the two men at the pulpit saying their vows to one another, and it’s big, festive and — yes — and just. Right.
Vows are recited. Rings are exchanged. Gordon allows the two grooms to kiss. That’s when the pews, prompted only a little by Bat-Mite’s magical suggestion, erupt into applause, and Bat-Mite conjures rice and flower petals and confetti to fall on everyone out of nowhere. He enhances the fireworks show in the garden once the company decamps outside. There’s lights, and music, and celebration, and Bat-Mite floats over it all feeling like the happiest man alive.
Up yours, Stan Lee!
It’s only after the reception has gone on for quite a while that he allows himself to sit down on the backrest of Joker’s chair and breathe out, and relax. He’s exhausted. It’s the pleasant kind of exhaustion though, borne out of doing good work. He’s proud, of himself and his guinea pigs. They’ve all accomplished so much. It’s a historic moment. It’s perfect…
“Shame it won’t have any bearing on anything once this moment is done,” Joker whispers.
Bat-Mite perks up and stares down at him. The Joker’s eyes are directed up, right at him. He’s smiling, but the smile, compared to his earlier ones, is muted now, almost…
… bittersweet.
“Huh?” Bat-Mite asks. “You can see me?”
“Sure I can, little imp.” Joker sits back and pats the chair next to him, vacant now, Bruce Wayne being out on the floor and twirling a laughing Barbara Gordon. “Take a seat. I want to thank you.”
“Oh, right. Sure.” Bat-Mite floats down onto the chair, still blinking with incredulity. “This is kinda awesome.”
“It is.” The Joker nods solemnly. “I’m very grateful for all your help. It’s not exactly how I would have done it, or my counterparts…”
“So what, you’re actually self-aware?”
“I’m a trickster character. I’m allowed certain loopholes. Especially since we’re not even in a proper story.”
Bat-Mite feels offended by that. “It is a proper story if I say it is!”
“Will this…” Joker sweeps a hand over the party in a small, elegant gesture, “… last? Beyond tonight? Beyond this single story?”
“Oh.” Bat-Mite hangs his head. “Well, fine. Probably not. Unless I use my powers to —”
“It won’t last. That’s not the game we’re supposed to be playing. Batsy and I aren’t really supposed to be… happy.”
“That’s not fair,” Bat-Mite protests. “There should be a universe where you are.”
“This is it,” Joker points out, his smile growing. “It’s how I first knew it couldn’t be real, or permanent. On some level, I suspected. We’re in a dream, aren’t we? Soon enough I’ll blink, and it will all be gone.”
“I could preserve it for you,” Bat-Mite offers. “I could close you all in a bubble and trap this moment like it is, forever.”
“That… would be nice,” Joker whispers, watching his husband on the dance floor. His smile turns warm. “He’s happy, isn’t he?”
“Looks like it,” Bat-Mite agrees. “It’s kind of weird if you ask me.”
“Yes. And beautiful.” The Joker takes another moment, sipping his champagne, and then he stands up. “Do whatever you want with us, little imp,” he says. “Preserve us, destroy us… I don’t mind. I’m only grateful I got to experience it all. I know my other counterparts won’t ever be this lucky.”
“You never know,” Bat-Mite says, feeling melancholy. “I could meddle some more. Or maybe DC will actually grow a pair and finally acknowledge what’s been going on between you guys for almost 80 years.”
“Ha!” Joker laughs, patting Bat-Mite on the head. “That’s a good one. You’re funny, little imp.”
“I wasn’t —”
“Thank you, once again,” Joker says. He straightens his tux jacket. “Now if you’ll forgive me, I’m going to make the most of this moment while I have it, and I’m going to dance with my husband.”
And just like that, as though the quiet moment with Bat-Mite never happened, he’s back to his full Silver Age self, laughing and skipping over to Wayne to grab his arm and lead him into a waltz.
Bat-Mite watches them for a long, long moment. He empties Joker’s champagne flute, and watches some more, thinking hard, his face settling into something wistful and sad.
“The world is unfair, isn’t it?” he says after a moment.
Yeah. It is.
“But I tried to do something about it. And I’ll try again soon.”
That’s good.
“I’ll give them more moments like that, even if they can never make it into an actual comic book.”
Good.
“Yeah. It’s good. And one day, maybe…”
Maybe.
“I think… we can go back now.”
If you want.
“Yeah.”
Bat-Mite spends another few heartbeats watching the newlyweds as they lean into one another and swirl over the dance floor amid their friends and loved ones. On an impulse, he sends a last round of fireworks into the sky. Then, he separates this moment from the rest of reality, and shrinks and shrinks and shrinks it until he can capture it in a little glass sphere that fits into his hand.
He clutches the sphere hard as he murmurs, “Time to go back.”
He blinks. He’s back in his apartment.
He breathes out, and holds the sphere close for another moment before he fashions a stand for it and places it in a corner, which he decorates with some of his favorite Batman/Joker covers, posters, statues and other memorabilia from over the years. It’s a good shrine, and he’s happy with it. He wants to keep it in his sight, so he doesn’t forget about this adventure.
He turns away…
… And then returns to the corner. After a moment he snaps his fingers and conjures up more stands, for new spheres.
He has a feeling he’ll fill those spaces up real soon.