#tbc?

There was a red flush on cheeks as he sat down, the thud of heavy pint glasses dulled by the beer mats beneath their base. The blush couldn't be from the cold. There was thick condensation on the pub windows, the fire roaring high in the grate, and John had been queuing at the bar for well over ten minutes. Nik wrapped his palm around the cold stout, thumb brushing over the etched logo on the side of the glass as he watched John fall into the chair and gulp down half his drink.

“Ahh, tha’s the spot,” John sighed as he leaned forward, wiping the foam from his moustache with the grasp of his palm. Nik saw the top of his beanie hat twitch as his ears moved beneath, and he longed to swipe it from John's head to free them. They softened his face in a way that made Nik ache, and he wishes John was freer with them.

They sat in companionable silence for a while. More customers poured through the doors, dressed in Christmas jumpers and stomping the snow from their boot-treads. Nik pretended to watch others while savouring John's scent over the bleached wood and stale beer odour of the bar, and John gazed at the screens along the walls for the latest scores. But Nik got the sense he wasn't really watching. It was the way his eyes moved, casting to the side like he was forgetting the ruse, his fingers tapping lightly against his arm. He was… preparing.

“What is it that you wanted to talk to me about?” Nik prompted.

John sniffed, considering his glass as if contemplating another drink to ward off the question, before he finally sighed. “I… uh, we’re uh… we’re good friends, yeah?”

“Of course,” Nik said.

“I… I got some bad news from my last medical,” John continued, and cleared his throat. His eyes widened a fraction when he looked up, because Nik's face must have failed to mask his horror. “No, no, bloody ‘ell, nuffin’ like… it ain't cancer, Nik.”

“Blyat, John… you are an arsehole for leading with that.”

“Yeah, fair,” he said, smile faint. “Look uh… the medic says my readings aren't healthy for a bear my age. She says I'm… it's like my body is agin’ faster, workin’ too hard. S’not just the stress. It’s… she says I need to uh… I need to hibernate.”

Nik was rendered momentarily speechless. John was studiously avoiding his gaze, picking at the edge of his beer mat instead. When Nik finally found his voice, he couldn't much restrain his exasperation. “When was the last time?”

John didn't answer. He glanced to the side.

“John…”

“Fuckin’ ell, ol'right, it was… I was fifteen.”

“Twenty. Three. Years,” Nik grated out, his heart dropping through his stomach. “John, this is self harm.”

“I didn't c’m’ere for a lecture, Nikolai. Lay off…”

“Why?”

“Why I don't want a lecture?”

“No, why have you not hibernated in twenty-three years? How are you still functioning?” Nik had forgot his pint, he was leaning forward now, studying John’s every hair, the lines in his face, the exhaustion so clear in his blue eyes. It was in that examination that he could see John shutting down, shutting him out. Nik swallowed, and put a proverbial foot in the door. “Tell me how I can help.”

John didn't answer immediately. His nail scratched at the edge of the beer mat, his shoulders tense, and then he sighed; long and slow, like the air in his lungs had been keeping him stable. “I need you t’... Come wiv me, to the uh, to the cabin I've booked for it.”

“You do not wish to hibernate in your flat.”

John shook his head. “S’too noisy. Postman, traffic, next door… too much goin’ on. But, uh… I won't be able to sleep, if there's no one watchin' my back.”

Nik's heart stuttered a little in his chest. John wouldn't be able to relax without someone he trusted watching over him. Hibernation was a bear’s most vulnerable time. Even in heat, an omega could rip the throat out of an unwanted mate and leave them bleeding out in the snow. But in hibernation? John would be thoroughly defenceless.

“I wouldn' trouble you wiv it, but I… uh, I ain’t got anyone who… and, uh… doctor says it's going to start affectin’ my operational viability. Threatened groundin’ me with permanent desk duty.”

This was hard for John. Nik could see it in the tightness of his jaw and the way his shoulders rose a little, defensive. Nik swallowed his first instinct to make light of it, dropping his eyes to search for a sincere answer that wouldn't sound trite. “When do we leave?”

John looked up sharply. “Really? S’two weeks, Nik. Two weeks of sittin’ on watch duty.”

“The perfect holiday. I am due one and I have a to-read list longer than one of Laswell's missions reports.”

“Cor, that's long…”

“Da,” Nik said, seriously.

John licked his lips, blue eyes shifting from side to side as he looked at the table, before lifting again. This time there was a smile crinkling at the corners, his cheeks perked up. “Cheers. It's next weekend,” he lifted his glass, “I owe ya.”

“Anything for a pretty face,” Nik said, lifting his pint to meet John's before taking a drink. He almost missed the flush that had spread all the way down John's neck. Almost.

-+-

The cabin was nice. There was a single open plan floor with a raised mezzanine floor for the bedroom that sat at the top of spiralling wooden stairs. The sofas and armchairs were wide and deep, with furs and throws over the arms, a heaving bookcase, a dining table with four chairs, and a huge fireplace framed by an ornate mantle piece.

There was a Morrisons order waiting for them on the porch when they arrived, Nik's helo parked neatly in the clearing behind the hut. Nik cracked a bottle of wine as they put the shopping away in the cupboards, and there was a roaring fire in the grate by the time they had got to the bottom of it. The snow was already well past their ankles, and they were due more overnight. There was running water and electricity, much to Nik's relief, and Nik showered while John went out back to chop some more wood before the sun set completely.

Bedding down was an easy rhythm to fall into. They had shared a safehouse many times and a bed more often than Nik could count, but they had never managed to cross the threshold to something more. Something Nik yearned for, and so did John. Nik could feel it. John was closed off and reserved when it came to intimacy; he patted and scruffed his men, sat back to back with them smoking cigars and sharing drink, but there had never been a mate. Not in the fifteen years Nik had known him. Such a thing required a vulnerability he feared.

When John returned, sweat clammy on his skin beneath his multiple layers, Nik was already cooking their supper. John had been feeding up for two weeks - a whole week before he had even asked for Nik to join him - and this would be his final meal before he slept. Nik listened to the slosh of shower water above his head over the simmering of the pan, and began dishing up a handful of minutes after he heard the squeak of the tap closing. Hungarian goulash; simple, hearty.

John appeared at the kitchen counter about five minutes later, dressed in a white cotton t-shirt and flannel trousers. His figure was fuller than usual, the significant number of extra calories padding him out in preparation for two weeks without food. He looked delicious, mouth-watering, his thick tits testing his t-shirt, his belly sat on top of his waistband. Nik bit his lower lip and paused mid-spoonful to admire.

“Sommat on m’face?” John asked, rubbing his hand over his beard self-consciously.

“I think I prefer you with a fuller figure. You look…”

“Like a middle-aged dad.”

“Mm, perhaps that is it. Fatherhood would suit you.”

“Nik, I’d be bloody shit at it.”

Nik slid a full plate over the kitchen counter as John climbed into the first stool. “I disagree. Beer?"

“Yeah, g’won then.”

They talked softly as they ate, John remarking on the beauty of the view as he had chopped wood and Nik agreeing to admire it while he slept. It would be pretty in the summer too. Perhaps they could come back and enjoy the lake, the fishing. They were deep in the Scottish Highlands, civilization and society left far, far behind so that a bear could sleep in peace.

After dinner, they played a game of cards by the fire and finished their drinks. It had been a long day of travelling and it didn't take long for John's eyes to start growing heavy. He tried to resist it, pacing by the windows, checking the lock on the door, rummaging through their supplies. Nik flicked on the kettle and left John to fidget until he had a steaming mug in his hand. “John, here,” he said as he held it out.

John looked at the broth like Nik was offering poison, his mouth pressed in a thin line, and took it gingerly in one hand. He blew across the surface needlessly, because Nik had made it only warm enough to dissolve the herbs and powders they used. The broth would trigger hibernation in lieu of the natural rhythms they had lost through centuries of evolution. The urges and needs were still there, but the chemistry was all gone. Well, most of it. John drank the concoction down in several gulps, wiping the back of his wrist over his mouth with a grimace. “Was there honey in that?”

“Da, my mother's recipe.”

John nodded mutely, scruffing a hand over his head and looking hesitantly at the sofa. He was expecting to drop into sleep instantly, his shoulders and back rigid with tension.

Nik placed the mug on the kitchen counter and held out his hand. “Do you trust me still?”

“Course, Nik…” John said, although his hands didn't move.

“Let me help. It is easier if you stop fighting.”

“‘m not fightin’. Here, an’I?”

“You look like you are expecting Makarov at any moment,” Nik said, eyes crinkling. “Let me help,” he insisted again.

John hesitated, a wave of tension passing down his spine, and then, slowly, he placed his hand in Nik's palm, a resigned sigh rattling from his chest. Nik led him up the twisting stairs to the bed, dropping his hand only to lift his own shirt over his head and crawl beneath the furs. When he looked back, John's face had flushed from more than the warmth of the cabin.

“It is simple biology,” he said. “The scent and heat of an alpha you trust will help your body let go. It will help it realise it is safe.”

“Bloody ‘ell, Nik… I…” John swayed, and Nik surged up to catch him. “Fuck… wossat.? Nik... I'm...”

“It is strong, but if you stay awake, you will feel sick and dizzy, come. There… easy, John.”

Nik helped John beneath the blankets and furs, gathering him close to his side. The feel of John’s body against him, the soft give of his belly, the curve of his tits, was a sweet torture. One of John's ears twitched across his nose as John rested his head against Nik's chest, tension easing from his body slowly, his breathing hitched and reluctant. Nik tried not to imagine turning him onto his back and spreading his thighs, but it was a lost cause as his cock twitched against his own.

“S’good shit, ya ma’s brew,” John said, his voice melting into a slight slur, heart rate slowing.

“She was a big believer in the importance of good hibernation. It is, what do you say, a family heirloom.”

Nik chanced it. He curled his arm up and pushed his fingers into John's hair, claws raking gently over his scalp, fingers and thumb shifting over the fur of his ear when he reached one. It was softer, plusher, than he'd ever hoped; thick brown fur streaked with tufts of red. Full, and round, and perfect.

The stubborn bear pressed against him shivered, one leg shifting over the top of Nik's as he curled closer. His eyes were still flickering, straining to stay open, even as his breathing slowed. “Nik, I… don't… don't leave…”

“I will not.”

“Don't… leave…”

“Let go, John. I will be here.”

“Don–...”

John's claws had been pressing slightly into the skin of Nik’s chest, and now his hands loosened. The tension melted slowly from his body as his consciousness sank into the deep, warm bliss of hibernation coaxing him deeper. Nik continued to stroke John's ears, his hair, until his body was completely lax, and then, with great reluctance, he began to extract himself, replacing the warmth of his body with pillows and blankets.

If the press of John's body hasn't made him hard, then the picture of him sleeping peacefully would have. It was something about the vulnerability. The openness of John's face and body. All that strength rendered beautifully soft. Nik took a deep breath through his nose, filling his head with the scent of John and woodsmoke. If he was lucky, John might hit a heat cycle when he woke and want…

-------------

Since Max had a car and Vince was going to go grocery shopping beforehand, they decided to go together. Max wasn't so sure about all of this, he wanted to bolt and his stomach was churning with nerves, but Vince was making a damn good job of making sure he couldn't, like by riding along with him.

"VIN!"

Max looked up in time to see a blur of dark hair and then Wendy was tackling her boyfriend into a hug, kissing his face all over, "oh my god, you look horrible," she whined mid kisses and Vince chuckled, planting her down on the ground.

"Thanks?"

"You look so pale, doesn't he look pale, Max?" Wendy cupped her boyfriend's face, "this is like the third stomach flu you had in six months, I'm putting you in quarantine."

Vince laughed at that, wrapping his arms around Wendy and giving her a hug from behind, pressing a kiss to her temple, "you sound like my mom, honey."

Wendy let out a little scoff at that, but it vanished quickly as her green eyes paused on Max and her pout melted into a smile, "hey, I'm so happy you decided to come," she perked up to give him a hug, leaving him stunned.

Max's whole face was a shade of red, when the front door of the cabin opened and a group of people stepped out. He recognized Vince's friend, Luke, immediately, the one with dark wavy hair and just as tall as Vin was. He was chatting with two other men, who were holding hands and clearly a couple.

"Guys!" Vince called out their attention, "Max, these are Luke, Leo and Jon. Guys, this is Daniels," he introduced them with a smile and Max wanted to shrink in his shoes. He felt clammy and nauseous all of sudden, but forced up a lopsided smile that communicated he wasn't so anxious he could vomit.

The man Vince had pointed out as Jon, raised a hand, all smooth and formal, "nice to meet you, Daniels."

"Just Max," he cleared his throat, shaking Jonah's hand and then Leo perked up to do the same, although he looked much more friendly than his boyfriend.

Luke didn't shake his hand at all, only offered him a tight smile, "hi Max."

"Where's Bell?" Vince asked, frowning and squeezing Max's shoulder, "oh there she is."

Max followed Vince's gaze and then raised his eyebrows as he saw a stunning ginger getting out of the house. She was wearing a black bikini top and jeans shorts, curly hair falling like a mane around her face and Max's jaw all but dropped.

He stepped aside in order not to be stepped on by her, as Bella apparently didn't even register him before tackling Vince with a hug. She squeezed him tightly, murmuring in a strained voice, "I've missed you."

Then her eyes landed on Max and she raised her eyebrows, scrutinizing him, "that's Daniels?"

"In the flesh," he answered before he could think better of it and she seemed momentarily surprised she had asked that out loud and that he had answered. Bella measured him up and down, then smiled.

"I thought you'd be taller."

"Well, this isn't awkward at all," Vince teased, while Wendy wrapped an arm around his waist and laughed, "let's go inside the house."

Max was more than a little dizzy with the amount of information he had to absorb in such a short time. Vince and Wendy shared a room upstairs, as well as Jonah and Leo. Downstairs, Luke and Bella had the third room and Max was delegated to the sofa bed, in the living room — which he didn't mind in the least but still made a big show of complaining about, just because he enjoyed watching Vince fumble over himself in search of a solution.

"You're mean," Leo whispered, leaning in his direction, as Vince continued to try and argue with Jonah and Luke that they should all draw straws.

"I prefer fun," Max retorted, smiling back at the other man, "so how long have you known Vince?"

"Since his first week of college," Leo shrugged, resting his back against the kitchen counter, crossing his arms to his chest, "he came to college already in the team, but I was doing try outs. Adopted me on the spot."

"And here I was feeling special," Max rolled his eyes, "he does that a lot?"

"Adopt strays? Not as much as Luke does," Leo let out an amused huff as his boyfriend told Vince he was not switching room and that was final, "not you though, he hates you."

"Couldn't have guessed," Max snorted, as if he could ignore the way Lucas was all stiff around him or the over the top PDA he was displaying with his wife simply because Max had looked at Bella.

"He's just jealous that Vince likes you," Leo shrugged, patting Max's arm, "it'll wear off by the end of the weekend, Luke can't hold a grudge."

Across the kitchen, Luke said something in a low, snappy voice that caused Jonah's eyebrows to jump and Vince to frown, shutting his mouth in a tight line.

"Maybe we should intervene?"

"Nah, let them hash it out," Bella's said, pushing herself between them and resting her back comfortably against Leo's arm. She was holding a beer and looking Max up and down like he was a zoo animal, "so how long you were in?"

"Jesus, Bell, you can't just ask people that," Leo exclaimed, while Max let out an amused snort. He hadn't ever told Vince that he had done time, so he wondered how she knew this.

"Just two days, protest arrest," Max answered, but never quite started that conversation, since Wendy wrapped a hand around his wrist and tugged at it, all the while saying loudly:

"Enough with the gossiping, we were all gonna go in the lake."

He did not, in fact, want to go in the lake. Ever since the day before his stomach had been a mess, which Max was chalking up to nerves, and he felt weirdly self conscious of stripping before this group, when his belly was sticking out, bloated and crampy.

Still, it was a warm, sunny day out and he had no excuse not to go in. He paced around the shore, as Bella raced Wendy down the pier and they both jumped, followed by Luke and Leo, the blonde spluttering up water and pushing his hair back as he yelled, "c'mon guys! Jon!"

Jonah was all smooth, unlike his friends who still behaved like kids, he took his time to strip and neatly fold his clothes, before walking into the lake instead of jumping from the pier.

"Aren't you gonna get in?" Vince patted Max's shoulder and the man shrugged, feeling horribly out of place.

"I don't know about this whole weekend, man," he started to complain, but Vin cut him off with a dramatic gesture. He always talked with his hands, really not helping the stereotype.

"You haven't been here for an hour," he said with a heavy sigh, kicking off his shoes, "if you still wanna leave by night, I'll drive you back, alright?"

Sounded good enough, even if Max felt a pang of guilt at the idea of Vin wasting another 3 hours of his weekend by driving Max back to Doveport, then back again to the cabin.

"Alright-" he stripped off his shirt, wincing slightly when his stomach let out a nauseated growl and rolled, breakfast sitting like a fucking brick.

Next to him, Vince stripped his shirt and threw it on top of Jonah's carefully folded pile, messing it up and causing the man to shout all the way back from the lake, "VINCE!"

"C'mooon, get in, Vin! Max!" Wendy squealed, drowning Jonah's shout and climbing on his back so she could have some leverage. She was the shortest of the group and while Luke was standing on solid ground, Wendy was panting as she struggled to keep her head afloat.

Max let his eyes wander, roaming over the expanse of Vince's naked back and biting down a dreamy sigh. By now he had seen Vin shirtless - and fully naked, thanks to the recent flu from hell - more than he ever thought he would. Still, the guy was a vision.

He removed his own shirt and grimaced at his stomach, wondering if it was visible to anyone else how upset the organ was, then dumped his wallet and cell on top of his shirt and kicked off his shoes, joining the group.

The water felt extremely cold against his skin and he shivered violently, letting out a string of curses when Vince promptly dunked his head in the water as soon as Max was close enough.

Mr. Freeze had already celebrated his escape, resulting in the snow storm still hitting the city. Fortunately, he was unlikely to do anything more serious without more planning. The focus was on the far more unpredictable threat.

The screens projected a map of Gotham with various points of interest highlighted. Most of the icons were a distinctive purple. All of Amusement Mile was lit up, with darker spots showing past lairs. Previous locations where Batman fought the Joker were pinpointed in green.

The map looked like a poor forgery of a Jackson Pollock painting. Rather than underlying fractals, tracing the Joker’s past actions just revealed chaos.

Bruce had been ruminating for hours. He knew it wasn’t productive, but any time he considered resting, he found himself in front of the glass memorial case. As always, he sublimated his grief and anger.

Silence was pierced only by keystrokes and shuffled paper. Tim avoided meeting Bruce’s gaze. Again, Bruce knew he should offer some reassurances to his young partner. The stink of blood and taste of ashes filled his throat anytime he tried.

Dick wasn’t any better. His clenched jaw perhaps the only thing keeping an argument from breaking out.

Other than bringing down food and drinks, Alfred declined to intervene. Everyone knew he was just as emotionally compromised as Bruce and Dick. Any attempt to reassure them would certainly be heard as falsehoods.

The dark miasma of emotions was finally broken by Oracle.

“Oracle to Batcave, I have an update,” the voice sounded confused even with the digital vocoder preventing most inflection.

“Copy Oracle. Batman, Nightwing, Robin, and Agent A in the cave,” Batman responded. “Should we gear up?”

“Batman, the police scanner is buzzing with this and I just got the preliminary report. Joker’s body was found by Detective Bullock earlier this afternoon. This was kept completely offline until now. I’m still getting info.”

Alfred groped for a chair before collapsing into it. Tim paused, then slowly began to reorganize the papers in front of him.

Bruce froze entirely while Dick immediately began bouncing on his toes, bleeding off a surge of nervous energy.

Nightwing managed to respond first, “Joker is dead?”

“His body was discovered in the Bowery near the library. Neck broken, no sign of foul play, no sign of struggle. Sending you a copy now.”

“If there was no foul play, how was his neck broken?” demanded Tim.

Bruce sat himself in the main control seat and was quickly skimming the report. He summarized: “it appears that the snow hid some debris left over from Two-Face’s last attack. The Joker slipped or tripped on something and landed awkwardly.”

“Are we supposed to believe that?” Tim asked sarcastically. “That sounds like the stupidest cover-up imaginable.”

“Falls are the second leading cause of accidental death globally,” Bruce responded blankly.

“Sure, but not like, fall on the sidewalk and snap your neck, right?”

Dick interrupted the back and forth, “Who cares? Seriously, who cares if it’s a one-in-a-million type accident? This is amazing.” He dashed over to the floor mats to expend more energy.

“No camera footage has been found yet, so all we have is Bullock’s report and after-action photos. Sending over the pictures now,” Oracle continued, ignoring Dick’s spontaneous celebrations.

Photos of the scene and Joker’s body were quickly filling the screens. The alley looked no different than hundreds of others, with perhaps more rubble than typical.

The pictures of the body in situ showed a scene disturbed by multiple people. The head had clearly been moved, probably while checking for life-signs and footprints covered the area. With the continued snowfall it was impossible to tell if the Joker had been alone when he fell.

Blood spatter was inconclusive. The low area of spread indicated that the source was from his face hitting the ground. More angles were needed to be certain though.

Bruce glanced at the medical readings. Temperature from the forensic techs indicated time of death was most likely right before discovery of the body.

“Any suggestion that Bullock could have done this? He found the body so soon after the death, are we sure he didn’t have anything to do with it?”

Nightwing’s voice was breathless from exertion when he answered, “He’s a cop and that was the Joker. He’d be up for a commendation from everyone. If he shot the Joker on sight he wouldn’t even be interrogated as long as there were no hostages at risk. I can’t see any reason why he would deny his role.”

Bruce grunted in pained acknowledgment.

Tim peered over the screen with Bullock’s report. “What about the person who waved Bullock down?”

Oracle’s voice was thoughtful, “you think someone killed the Joker, then immediately flagged down a cop?”

“It would be a good cover,” Tim defended.

“Better than just leaving the body where it might not be discovered for days? Where the snow could cover it?” countered Dick.

“The cold might preserve evidence,” mused Bruce. “This could have been a way to make certain the scene was immediately contaminated.”

Oracle read aloud from the report, “pedestrian standing outside the alley waved me down. Description: male, mid-teen, approximately 6 ft, medium skin tone, light eyes, hair covered by red hoodie. Teen stated he spotted purple in the snow and didn’t want to get closer. Expressed worry that it was a trick. Witness stayed behind the corner of the alley while I approached the body. Cursory inspection using gloves found no pulse or breathing. Initial identification of the Joker. Individual footprints difficult to spot, but no indication of drag marks or scuffling. After speaking with an EMT, witness left without further communication.”

Before Bruce could interrupt, Oracle continued, “addendum: I saw no person in the alley or exiting the alley. Witness was outside the alley. No other pedestrians on the street. No camera coverage of far end of the alley, possible exit point for any other witnesses or victims.”

Bruce hummed quietly, “let’s see if we can track down the witness, but keep it very quiet. I don’t want any of Joker’s surviving people to get to him.

Oracle, Robin, see if we can’t spot him on cameras outside the immediate area. Tall and in a red hoodie isn’t a lot to go on, but it’s something.”

“You think the kid did something?” Asked Tim softly.

“No, a young teen vs. the Joker?” Bruce suppressed the memories of his own son’s fate under those circumstances. “I think it more likely that a potential killer exited the far side of the alley. But he may have witnessed something and not even realized the significance.”

Again Dick interjected, “or, and hear me out, this really was an accident. One that went in Gotham’s favor for once. The kid literally saw a pile of purple clothing, freaked out like most Gothamites would, but was still contentious enough to tell someone.”

It seemed so…unlikely. The idea that the Joker was brought down not for his crimes, but in a simple mishap itched at him. Truthfully, he almost resented the idea that the Joker’s suffering was over.

But so was Gotham’s suffering if this really was the Joker. His son’s memory could live in peace without the shadow of his murderer hanging over them all.

“Save the footage but make it low priority,” Bruce finally relented.

“Good,” Oracle responded, “sounds like the kid was already freaking out. No reason to hang a target on his back.”

The three vigilantes in the cave fell into contemplative silence as they reviewed the rest of the photos and reports. It was amazing how much work could be done in the few hours since the body was found.

Initial fingerprint analysis matched as did anthropometric assessments.

The body had clearly been taken to a lab with biological and chemical containment equipment. All personnel were in complete PPE with no skin exposed.

The post-mortem external exam showed only facial abrasions and the clearly broken neck. Examination of the skin revealed the characteristic bleaching, with no sign of makeup or recent changes.

Tim pulled up medical intake photos from Arkham as well as mugshots so they could compare them to the exam photos. “It has been less than 24 hours since the breakout. Batman, unless there was a lot of work done in advance, I don’t think Joker could have put together a body-double this quickly. Certainly not one who matches fingerprints as well.”

Pictures of the stripped clothing revealed a mixture of weapons and chemical agents. Nothing out of keeping with the clown’s usual load-out. Bruce was quietly grateful that there was no crowbar found with the body.

Oracle’s voice broke the silence. “A judge just issued an emergency order. The body is to be treated under the same rules as those for Viral Hemorrhagic Fever outbreaks.”

“What does that mean?” Tim asked.

“Immediate cremation without autopsy,” answered Bruce.

“There is concern about what Joker might have been exposed to or have brewing in his corpse.” Oracle added, “with an obvious cause of death, Judge Wigzell ruled that it is in the public’s interest to limit the threat of contamination. He also ordered that the entire process be recorded and released to minimize public confusion.”

“Can we stop it?” Bruce demanded. “Surely there needs to be a thorough investigation.”

“We have no standing to intervene,” Oracle answered. “We can’t even admit knowing about this without revealing we illegally breached the records.”

At best we may get access to the samples being taken, blood, hair, saliva, and tissue. They are being kept locked down in biocontainment level 4.”

A long pause, then Oracle’s emphatic assertion followed. “I will not aid in any attempt that would breach the biocontainment. Any request will need to go through proper channels.”

Dick placed a hand lightly on Bruce’s shoulder. Startled since he hadn’t seen his son’s approach, Bruce’s lightly covered Dick’s hand with his own. He could feel his son’s fingers shaking slightly. Dick said, “other than confirming identification, I don’t think we should be part of this. Let Gotham see this all in the light.”

“There will be a public outcry,” Bruce snapped. “Moving this quickly looks like a cover-up.”

Tim frowned, “Will there be an outcry? Really? No one is going to openly complain about his body being destroyed other than maybe Harley.” He shook his head, “Nightwing is right. They are recording each step. We can check to confirm the identity of the body, but I don’t think we should do anything to interfere.”

Bruce began to speak when he was interrupted. Still sitting down, face lined with grief, Alfred’s voice was quiet but firm. “No. This is literally the justice system at work. There was a court order and they are trying to be transparent. We cannot claim to trust the system when imprisoning the Joker and then demand our own rules at this stage.”

“The Joker is dead. I for one applaud that his final act had no audience and that he died alone in a cold alley. If you’ll excuse me, I will be upstairs.”

“I’ll keep an eye on the investigation and let you know if anything unusual crops up, Oracle out.”

“What’s the game plan Batman?” Dick asked.

“You just told me not to invest-“

“Not that. Once this is public, the whole city will be celebrating. How do we want to cover this?”

Bruce appeared at a loss, “you really think it will be public? A man did die.”

“No,” Dick’s voice was sharp, “the Joker died. He intentionally left his humanity behind years ago. There will absolutely be open parties.”

Bruce shook off his own assumptions and nodded, “you’re right. Let’s put together an action plan. They won’t be able to keep this quiet for more than 24 hours. No patrol tonight. We need to be fully rested for tomorrow.

Dick, we will need to make a statement. Dickie Wayne is absolutely not allowed to lead a parade.”

Dick’s laugh was half a sob, “fine, but I’m going to announce that we’re paying the tab for all chili hot dog stands and ice cream parlors in the city for three days after the announcement.”

Tim shyly asked, “for Jason?”

“Yes.” When Bruce opened his mouth to argue, Dick snapped, “I’m doing this and you don’t get to stop me Bruce.”