Yeah, I know, I was disappointed too. I was trying to write some more Joker Creeps, but it seems my absolutely horrifying imagination needed a break. And I had to write batman at some point, after all they are Batman's movies. Anyway, Bale did a good job in the two movies, I thought I should butcher his role just as much as I have the Joker's. Oh, I mean you can certainly expect the Joker in later chapters, if there is a later chapter...

Yeas I know how short this is...sorry.

The press was going wild out there. They gathered outside the ambulance as it pulled up to the hospital doors.

Silently and efficiently the paramedics unhooked the gurney from the vehicle and unloaded it from the truck. The press fell silent for a moment as they saw Batman for the first time.

Unmoving. Unseeing. Unspeaking.

And then with a roar of noise, the questions began, shouted across the lot, as the reporters vied for the doctors and Gordon's attention.

"Is he alive?" " What happened?" "Will you be taking him into custody if he survives?" "Has his identity been revealed?" "Why does he need medical attention?" "Is he going to die?"

Gordon pushed through the crowd with practiced ease. The paramedics however looked nervous and edgy.

"Goddammit! Everyone back away!" The Commissioner pushed the journalists away and smashed through the doors of the hospital, following the metal gurney. Jesus. If he dies... Gotham dies with him.

Batman lay still, three knife wounds and a fall from a sixteen story building didn't bode well for the caped crusader.

It seemed impossible that Batman was in this position. He was supposed to be invincible, untouchable. Gordan had fooled himself into thinking that it might last. That Batman had supernatural powers.

"How do we get this shit off?" The doctors were struggling with the Batsuit, pulling it, trying to cut through the tough fabric.

"Get him to room seventeen-A. Get a surgeon and an analyst." A man in dark blue scrubs was shouting orders, grabbing charts and sending other doctors scrabbling through the hallways.

"Commissioner, you're going to have to wait in the waiting room. I want some Kevlar for my surgeons. I don't care how good this guy is. If he wakes up and hurts my doctors, I'm holding you responsible."

"Why?" Gordon asked, surprised.

"I don't trust this guy. As far as I'm concerned, he's a cop killer and a criminal. Not to mention what I can say about his mental status."

"Right..."

"So you are going to have to wait in the lobby. See if you can contact his... Damn. Well, just wait in the lobby."

Gordon nodded, "Fine, Dr... Golding." He said peering at the doctor's identification tag.

Walking back to the lobby he felt strange, weak. Batman was going to die... If he wasn't already dead. He sat in one of the stiff hospital chairs, his arms braced on his knees and holding his head. It the black Knight died, the city would slip back into the dirty criminal underworld that It had been five years ago. Unable to take the tension any longer he phoned his wife and kids, deriving a little comfort from his sons chirping voice.

Back in his chair he leaned his head against the wall and prayed that Batman would survive the night.

At last when he was just about to fall into slumber, Dr. Golding stepped into the lobby covered in blood and looking weary. The Doctor glanced around the waiting room and his gaze rested on the Commissioner.

"We think he's stable. But we can't be sure, I can hardly hook a heart monitor up to a Kevlar suit."

Gordon nodded, a little eased.

"We think it can be taken off from the neck down but his mask is in the way. We don't know what to do."

Gordon nodded again, unsure of what the doctor was telling him.

Golding took a deep breath. "I need you to take the costume off. None of my doctors want to know who Batman is, that knowledge is a dangerous thing in times like these. We want you to take the mask off, check for head injuries, unclip the suit, and put the mask back on."

Gordon sighed and nodded wearily. He should have expected this. Dr. Golding patted him on the back gratefully. "Thanks. The neckline is charged, so you'll have to wear these." He held out a pair of thick rubber gloves.

Gordon took them and stood, his head spinning a little from exhaustion. He made his way back to room 17 A. Steeling himself and taking a deep breath he entered the room.

Batman lay surrounded by complicated machinery, all turned off. His black suit had a stark contrast to the white sheet and walls.

No wonder he didn't like hospitals, no way for him to slip into a shadow here.

Gordon shook his head and walked carefully over to the dark figure on the bed. He peered down at the man on the bed and took yet another wavering breath.

The figure lay still, maybe he was dead already. Well, there's only one way to find out. Gordon closed the hospital curtain, and a bit paranoid, he covered the windows and checked for security cameras. Finding nothing he pulled on the gloves and ran a hand through his hair, a nervous tick.

Carefully The commissioner forced his fingers into the crack where cowl met the breast plate and pulled.

Gordon stumbled backwards as the hood came away smoothly. He had been expecting some kind of resistance.

He peeled back the mask, trying not to jostle the silent figure too much. The hood slipped off, and Gordon stared at batman's true identity.

A face from the tabloids lay on the bed, black paint was smeared on his eyelids and blood coated his forehead and bruised cheek, yet Gordon knew who it was.

The one man who he would never have expected. The one man who Gordon had scoffed and told Jokes about. The one who had earned scorn from the highest society for his drunken escapades and various mistresses.

It was Bruce Wayne.

Gordon felt his mouth work for a few minutes, speechless he could only stare. After a few minutes he forced a breath. Expelling air, he said the one thing that came to mind.

"Shit."

I'm telling you when I was finished I was like... What? I mean nothing scary, gruesome, creepy or whatever it is people like in my stories. It's just... Batman... on a bed... in a hospital... I mean what the hell? So yeah. Reviews would be nice... I wrote the second chapter for Jester's court, but then I found out just how much I could suck as a writer, and I went all depressed and blamed Batman for some reason. So Batman gets to be tortured some more. Yeah...

Jester's Court pretty much sucks balls.

REVIEW!!