“Wherever You Go, I’ll Always Be Not Far Behind.” - A Drabble Detailing What Went On In Bob’s Head When He Saw Jack Napier Die And Saw Joker For The First Time. Heavily Bob/Joker. Trigger Warnings Are Labeled In Tags
It should have been an easy job, but he knew going into it that Jack was uneasy. Still, he’d agreed to accompany him to Axis Chemicals that night. Wherever Jack Napier went, Robert ‘Bob’ Capistrano was not far behind. Sometimes, he even walked in sync with the other man. He knew Jack better than he knew himself and he would follow him to the ends of this grimy, awful earth.
He’d seen the look on Jack’s face the instant the vault opened and he knew they were in trouble. Bob’s first instinct was to get Jack the hell out of Axis. Nobody else mattered. He immediately took lead and returned fire on the cops that had entered the building after them. In the commotion, in one blink of an eye, Bob had lost sight of Jack.
Every movement he made, every corner he turned, he was looking for Jack. He didn’t like it much at all when they were separated and he couldn’t be sure that the only friend he would ever have was safe. That’s when he glanced up. At first, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. A giant Bat had Jack in a hold, but that’s when he kicked into action. Just ahead of him on the ground below them, he saw Jim Gordon. It was the only move he had to try and ensure Jack’s safety.
Gun out, Bob moved for Gordon and placed the barrel against the commissioner’s temple. He stared first at Gordon, the gun ready to be fired the instant anything looked bad for Jack, before he glanced upwards to his only friend. “Let him go, or I’ll do Gordon!”
The commissioner had remained frozen in place and as he glanced up, he saw Jack stare down at him in recognition for a moment. Bob saw that Jack was near an exit and all he had to do was buy him enough time to get the hell out of here and he could get to him and everything would be okay. As he hoped, the Bat dropped his only friend and he continued to hold the gun to Gordon’s head as he waited for Jack to take his exit. He was starting to get nervous. There was only so much time he could buy him.
“Come on, Jack! Let’s go!” Gun still pointed at Gordon, Bob began to back away to his own exit, eyes still on Jack, pleading at this point. “Jack! Come on!”
A shot was fired and he watched Eckhardt go down as he was still backing up to his own exit. He stared up at the catwalk where Jack was to see him fire another shot at the Bat. Then, somehow, that shot had deflected back at Jack. He heard the other man’s screams, saw the blood spray out and around his face. No. No, no, no… Jack, no…. But he saw him move again, though heavily wounded in his face. He was still backing up and staring up when he saw Jack slip over the edge of the railing and saw the Bat catch him. His eyes moved down in panic, seeing that below Jack was a large vat of some kind of green chemicals. If the fall didn’t kill him, whatever that shit was surely would.
His heart was beating almost up into his throat. There was nothing he could do from here. He was standing here watching his only friend, the man he loved and had never had the guts to tell, about to fall to his death and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Tears stung the goon’s eyes and he uttered a silent, desperate prayer that the Bat would pull him up and Jack could get out of this. Bob would see to it that his face was mended. He just needed him to survive.
Nearly at the door, his breath coming in panicked gasps as the tears spilled from his eyes, he watched the only man who had ever meant anything to him fall from the railing to the vat of chemicals below. The screams from Jack grew to silence and Bob stared in disbelief, murmuring in between shocked sobs that wracked his body. “Jack? Jack! Oh, Christ… Jack… Jack, no… Come back… Come back up…Jesus, Jack, please…. Please.”
He stood there a few moments longer, as long as he could without the cops turning back for him, and no body resurfaced in that vat. Jack Napier was gone. He was… No, Bob couldn’t bring himself to say it. He swallowed a lump in his throat, nearly choking, as his eyes gazed at that vat one last time and he turned to make his own getaway.
Making it home to his rundown apartment on the bad side of town was nearly a blur to Bob. He went through the motions, not realizing what he was even doing. He didn’t even bother to turn the light on when he entered. He slammed the door behind him with one booted foot and walked to his couch to sit down. He glanced at the phone, practically stared at it. If Jack got out, somehow, Jack would call him. He even kept his door unlocked because he knew if Jack somehow made it back here, he could just walk right in. Bob didn’t even remove his hat, coat or shoes.
He simply waited, feeling his heart break more with each passing second. Seconds turned to minutes. Minutes turned to hours. Hours turned to days. And, before he knew it, days had turned to nearly a week. The longest he had ever spent without Jack since the other man had found him on the streets of Gotham when he was just fifteen.
Bob was certain that the instant Jack Napier’s life had ended, so had his. He hadn’t wanted to believe it, but here he sat and Jack still hadn’t called or come back. As Bob covered his face with his black leather gloved hands, he wept and felt himself shatter in that moment. What was the point? Without Jack, what good was he? He couldn’t do this anymore. If Jack was truly dead, then Bob would follow him into that darkness as he followed him in life. There was no other choice.
He glanced out the dirty window of his apartment. It was dark out, but he didn’t even care what time it was. He wiped the tears from his unshaven face, fingers ghosting over the Chelsea grin scar on his cheek that Jack had given him years prior. He remembered that night clearly. His fingers stayed there, a silent sob wracking through his body as he clung to the only thing he had left of Jack Napier anymore.
It hurt too much. He rose to his booted feet, balance off as he stood and nearly fell back on the couch again. He sent his hand into the pockets of his trench coat to find his gun. He checked the chamber. One more bullet left. That was all he needed and he would be on the only path he was ever meant to take again—behind Jack.
Bob’s bottom lip trembled and the tears ran down his face as he brought the gun up towards his temple. One click and the pain would be gone. One more shot of this gun and he could follow Jack. A shaking finger was on the trigger, mere seconds away from pulling it back when the door to his apartment shot open and the dim light in the hallway illuminated the shadow of a figure in a hat and coat.
Before Bob could say anything, gun still pressed to his temple, the figure spoke with a familiar voice. “Bobby, I’m home!”
The gun slipped from Bob’s hand and fell to the floor at his booted feet. “J… Jesus Christ… You’re… You’re alive. You’re alive!”
“Of course I’m alive, Bob-O, why wouldn’t I be?” The figure that Bob knew to be Jack stepped further into the apartment and kicked the door shut behind him. He flipped a light on and tossed his hat to the ground. Staring at Bob was Jack, but a very different Jack. His skin was now bleached white, hair turned a shade of green, lips bright red as the blood that Bob had last seen spray out of the other man’s face before he fell, and his cheeks were pulled up and set into a permanent grin that would never fade.
Bob simply stared at the other man. He wasn’t appalled. Not even in the slightest. He was overjoyed, in fact. Different or not, the man standing before him was still in some way, shape or form his Jack. It meant that Jack Napier was still alive and that meant everything to Bob. He shook his head, eyes blinking back tears as he stepped closer to the other man. “You’re…. Alive…”
Jack’s head tilted and eyes narrowed just the slightest of bits as he nodded. “Yeah, Bob-O…. We’ve already been through this. Now, listen. I need…. A change. A change of clothes and scenery so, ah… You still with me or…?”
Bob stood straighter and nodded. He was resisting the urge to throw himself at the other man, cling to him and kiss every bit of him that his lips could reach. He was holding back the need to tell him how much he missed him, how much he hurt and how fucking much he loved him. Instead, he locked eyes with the other man. “Always. Whatever you need.”
Jack’s red lips twitched into a somewhat wider grin as he grabbed his hat and put it back on. He locked his own eyes back on Bob’s, silent for a moment. He knew what he looked like. He knew Jack Napier was dead and this hideous freak was what remained in his place, but somehow it seemed like good old Bob didn’t quite seem to care. He finally spoke after a few moments of silence. “Good… Let’s go, Bobby…” He started to walk towards the door, opening it and letting the dim light spill back onto him from the hallway of the complex. “And Bob? It’s Joker now. Not Jack.”
Bob did as he was happiest and most comfortable doing and followed behind Jack. Once again their footsteps were in sync with each other and he could ensure the other man’s safety. He’d give his life for him. There was no doubt about that. He heard the other man’s reply and nodded behind him. “Yes, sir. Joker.”
That was all he needed. It didn’t matter what Jack wanted to be called or went by. It didn’t matter what had happened to him, scarred him, changed him—none of that mattered a damn bit to him anymore. All that mattered was Jack was alive and as long as Jack was alive, so was Bob. As long as there was Jack Napier or Joker, Bob was not far behind.
