What if Alfred hadn't kept Bruce? That night in the ally caused the young Wayne's mind to crack, and be sent to Arkham. Unable to release his past, he is haunted by the memories of what once was. During a fight with some bullies, a mysterious new figure saves him, showing him that he isn't as alone as he thought. Young Bruce and Young Joker- one shot

Demons will comfort you when no one else will. That's why it's hard to get rid of them.

-Anonymous

He landed squarely on his side as the older boys continued to kick him roughly. He immediately covered his head with his arms, but that hardly mattered as the rain of blows landed across his body. He didn't make a sound, although it certainly hurt. He didn't deserve the release that crying offered, and so he kept it bottles up as best he could.

This wasn't how his life had been. No, he had had a family who loved him. Now he was alone in this blank, harsh place. Downtrodden and mistreated. If he kept his eyes closed late at night, he could still pretend he was home, safe in bed, his parents in the next room, where everything was fine.

His eyes were closed now, but with his breathing strained, and his heart beating erratically, there was no pretending any different. "Just keep everything together, and they'll never know how much they hurt you." He remembered his father saying, so he did. Even as a particularly devastating kick to his midriff rolled him completely over, he held back his cries. Trying to keep the loud voice in his head that was begging for them to stop, silent. The laugher continued to come from the bullies above him, mocking him even as they hauled him to his feet just to shove him down again.

He tried desperately to remember his mother's soothing voice. The words becoming more and more distant the longer he stayed in this horrid, frigid place. His father's brisk walks around the grounds late in the afternoon, or the drive to the lake in the summer.

Anything to catch that glimpse of a past beautiful life he no longer had.

The boy's eyes closed tight, every inch of him screaming in pain. They did this a lot. The orderlies and patients alike, he was new. A 'freak', and easy for them to target as they knocked him down. Because he was a freak. A freak that couldn't stop that man in the ally. If only he had stepped up. If only he had done something. Anything...

A particularly nasty blow caught his face and he heard, rather than felt, the crack as his nose broke. Then he did feel it and it burned white hot as the blood began gushing down his face and onto the floor. A shout from down the hall diverted the men's attention away from the panting figure writhing by their feet. One look and they took off as fast as they could down the hall. None of them looking back to see the intruder kneel down beside their prey

The boy on the ground barely noticed the assailants go, to wrapped up in the aching coming from his limbs. Heavy pants shook his whole body, and the kneeling brow furrowed his brow in concern. "Hey." The voice was soft. "Hey, you're ok now." He continued to reassure. Gentle, pale fingers reached out and slowly uncovered the boy's face. "They are gone now. You're safe."

Bruce looked up, tears still trapped behind his blue eyes but on the brink of over flowing.

With a little help he sat up. The savior slid down the wall and sat next to him. Both sat still as his ragged breathing calmed.

"Do they do that often?" The taller boy asked as he offered a scrap of cloth to catch the blood that dripped from his nose.

The only reply was a small, barely noticeable nod.

"They used to do that to me too you know. I was a freak. A 'no good weirdo' they said... I was different. But I've been here so long now that they know not to mess with me. Now that you have me, they will know to leave you alone."

Bruce let his eyes flicked back to the savior's face. Gratitude and hopefulness shone clearly there. The other boy looked different, but Bruce didn't care, the thick scars around his lips only let his happy smile grow.

"Thanks..." His voice was a whisper, but was heard none the less. A smile broke the nervous silence.

"You know what they say right?" His blond hair falling into his overzealous green eyes.

The smaller, dark mop of brown hair, shook slowly, uncertainly.

"Bats of a feather, flock together!" He said seriously. Followed by a high pitched giggle. The first boy was about to point out that bats didn't in fact have any feathers, but the boy stood up. Brushing the blond hair from his eyes and offering a hand to the bloody boy in the ground.

He grabbed the hand offered and was brought swiftly to his feet, but not letting go. "What do they call you squirt?"

"My name was Bruce. Bruce Wayne..." Bruce shook the other kid's hand. "What's yours?"

"They call me the Joker." He spread his arms wide as if to show off his whole personality. "But You can call me Flower if you want to!" He added with a wink.

Bruce blushed as Joker took his hand and began walking down the sterile white halls. "You and I are going to be best friend right Bruce?"

With a shy smile Bruce nodded. Best friends. He could use one of those. Maybe this place wasn't so bad after all.