In Arkham 2 months later…

Bruce was standing in a viewing room as he watched one of Arkhams doctors trying to speak to the Joker. He was Batman at the moment, Bruce Wayne hanging around Arkham would only raise questions.

A knock came at the door and a doctor poked her head around the door.
"I heard you wanted to speak with me?" She asked, and Bruce nodded. She stepped into the room and held out her hand.
"I'm doctor Jenkinson." She was a middle-aged woman, with her black hair pulled into a bun that sat at the nape of her neck. Her large glasses obscuring most of her face. Bruce shook her hand and they both turned to watch the Joker. The doctor had been speaking but the Joker said nothing just stared at the wall. He hadn't moved his body or his eyes since he was sat down.
"Has he said anything?" Bruce asked as they watched. But he could guess the answer.
"He hasn't spoken a word since you brought him in." The doctor shot him a side long look. "If you don't mind me asking, what the hell happened?"

Batman looked at her confused. "What do you mean?" He asked, not taking his eyes away.
"Well I've been working her for 8 years. I've seen you bring in the Joker dozens of times. And every single time, we can't shut him up. He talks and talks. In his sessions, at lunch, with other inmates and even in the middle of the night. But this time, he hasn't uttered a single word." She turned back to the Joker, and Bruce tried to think.

What was different? The girl? What was her name, Rory? She was the only thing that had changed. Sure, the joker took hostages, he had done it countless times. But they never did last long, a day or two. But she was with him for more than a week.
She was the only anomaly. Whatever it was about her, he obviously wasn't taking her death with the same indifference he usually treated people dying with. She was different. Something about her. But what?

"If we don't make a breakthrough soon. He may be like this forever." Bruce was shaken out his thoughts when the doctor spoke. He nodded as he watched him. "But maybe that's for the best." She said, and Bruce couldn't say he disagreed.
"Well, I have to get to my other patients. Goodbye Batman." She left the room and Bruce stayed watching the Joker.

He wondered whether he should do anything, if they left him like this maybe Gotham would recover from his reign of terror. Rebuild from his years of destruction and chaos.
But Bruce couldn't in good conscience leave him like this, maybe Joker could become a productive member of society. He had to give him that chance. No matter his history with the Joker, Bruce still had to believe that people, at their core, were good. If he stopped believing that, maybe the Batman couldn't be anymore. What would he fight for?
He decided to leave and talk to Gordon, maybe he could shed some light on the Jokers recent silence. As he stalked out of the room, he shot the Joker one last look. He was in the same position, but his eyes had moved to the two-sided mirror. Bruce knew that the Joker couldn't see him. But it was eerie how his eyes had found him, staring him down.
He shook off his unease and left the asylum.

"No Bruce." Gordon nearly shut the door in Bruce's face.
"Gordon, you don't even know what I was going to ask." Bruce tried his foot jammed in the door.
"Like hell I don't." Gordon pushed the door trying to close it. Crushing Bruce's feet but more importantly, his designer shoes.
"Please, just let me in." Bruce gave Jim a pleading look and he relented grumpily.
"Fine, come in." He opened the door and Bruce walked in. Shrugging off his jacket and hanging it up on the coat hook. Gordon showed him through to the lounge and took a seat on one of the sofas.

Bruce took one opposite of him and settled into the chair. Wriggling into the worn fabric.
"What do you want?" Gordon asked getting straight to the point.
"No tea?" Bruce asked but a look from Gordon shut him right up again. "Ok, no tea. I need to talk to you about, Rory." At that Gordon shot back up again.
"I knew it. Out!" Gordon pointed to the door, but Bruce held up his hands.
"Gordon, come on. It's been two months." He tried to defend himself, but Gordon was going red in the face. A vein throbbing in his neck.

"It can be two years, or two hundred. I said no." Bruce didn't move from his seat, if he backed down every time Gordon did this, he would never get anything done. He tried again.
"Calm down Gordon, come on, sit down." Bruce didn't come here to upset Gordon. He just seemed to have this effect on some people. Especially Gordon.

"Why do you want to talk about Rory?" Gordon asked taking a seat, apparently calming down.
Bruce tried to think of a way to bring up the Joker, but he knew Gordon would practically throw him out. The silence stretched as Bruce tried to think of how to tactfully say it.
"It's the Joker, isn't it?" Gordon sighed as Bruce nodded. "I knew it." Jim took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, seriously regretting letting Bruce in. As he did every time he let him in.
"Why can't you just leave well enough alone?" Gordon asked sighing and replacing his spectacles. He gave Bruce a long look.

"I just need five minutes." Bruce tried but Gordon shook his head.
"I can't do this today Bruce. I just can't." Gordon stood up again and this time Bruce followed. He knew when to quit, he would just have to come back. Perseverance will slowly wear down the rock. Gordon led him to the door and Bruce grabbed his coat.

"I'll come back another day." Bruce said as he walked out the door and Gordon nodded. Gordon lifted his hand in goodbye as he watched Bruce get into his car. As he watched him speed off into the distance Gordon sighed.
This was Bruce's problem, he couldn't let sleeping dogs lie, always had to kick up a fuss. Gordon went to the kitchen and searched for some pain killers. Seemed every time he seen Bruce he would bring on a headache. Metaphorically and physically.

Gordon knew this wasn't over, but he tried to kid himself a little longer. He could keep putting off speaking to Bruce, but he was nothing if not persistent. Unfortunately.
Gordon took some paracetamol and went back to his chair.

He was trying to move on from the events of two months ago, but it seemed he would have to face the ghosts.

His ghosts.

Rory.

Sooner or later though.

Everything comes to the surface.