It was pouring rain in Gotham, the night was dark and had a foreboding air about it. The stench of poverty and crime rose from the streets to pool around the rooftops of the buildings. Bruce Wayne was perched there upon the edge of one of the tallest buildings. Waiting.
The rain had already soaked through his suit and there were droplets trickling down his mask and falling towards the street. Bruce watched them as they fell, imagining the exact moment that they hit the ground and burst apart. He sort of smiled, imagining the inevitability of the rain's outcome. There was no other possibility; the rain would always fall and it would always burst apart. Nature had a way of making sure it happened.
Lightning lit up the night sky, painting him in a ghostly white for just a moment before the color receded. If anyone had been watching him, they might have seen the tears that leaked from under his mask and fell with the rain, but there was no one. It was a night like this that they died, he thought. He could still remember hearing the tires screeching and that horrifying voice telling him that they were gone, there was nothing he could do to save them. He had been saving people ever since, hoping to make up for that void in his chest that told him he had failed.
"Oh Batman. What do we have here?" a high-pitched voice asked from behind him. He knew without turning who it was. The Joker. He always had a way of finding Bruce when he most wanted to be left alone to wallow in his sadness. "Staring at the rain again? Or are you imagining your dear, sweet wife dying?" a sick, desperate sort of laugh left the Joker. It sounded hollow.
"Shut up, Joker. At the current moment I'm not in the mood for your games." Bruce hoped feebly that he would take the hint and leave. But of course he didn't. The Joker could never take the hint.
"On such a dreary night like this? I don't think even I'm in the mood for my games. But let's play one anyway. I'm thinking of a number between one and a hundred. Guess which?" Bruce looked up sharply. Even the Joker sounded tired tonight. His usual hysteria wasn't present in his voice. He came up next to Bruce and sat next to where Bruce was crouched at the edge of the rooftop, dangling his legs over the edge. Bruce almost thought about just pushing him off. Almost. But he would never do it. He and the Joker both knew that. Bruce sighed, he wasn't going to get out of this tonight so he might as well play along.
"Is it 7?" The Joker gave a little chuckle, looking over at Bruce. His makeup was slightly smudged, the white running down from where the water pooled at his forehead from his hair. His mascara was also running just a bit. It made for a very depressing look.
"How ever did you know? But wait, let me guess. That's your favorite number as well?" The Joker was swinging his legs as he spoke, staring down at the lights illuminating the city street below. The cars were moving in what seemed like slow motion and the pedestrians were all huddled under umbrellas, moving quickly to escape the gloom of the night.
"No. I just figured it was yours. What are you even doing tonight?" Bruce looked over at the Joker, sitting there swinging his legs like a child. For a moment Bruce forgot about their rivalry. He forgot about all the times they had fought each other, broken bones and destroyed cars and buildings around them. They were both two broken souls, battling to fill a void that both knew would never be filled.
"I'm like you. I can't sleep at night. Especially on nights like this, with the rain pouring. My thoughts just won't stop." He paused for a moment, seemingly to collect his thoughts. "Have I ever told you how I got these scars?"
"I don't think you have. I just assumed you robbed the wrong people and they caught you." Bruce was looking at the Joker. He sometimes forgot that no matter how much they fought, he was still a broken man. Just like him.
"Aha, no. I never knew my father. He left my mom when I was a young boy, apparently because he couldn't stand me. My mother remarried a man when I was 14 and I instantly hated him. He was an alcoholic and he was abusive. My mother was the only person who loved me and to see her so vulnerable used to kill me. One night he got to drinking and got violent with my mom. So I tried to protect her with a kitchen knife. He didn't like that at all. So he takes the knife from me and beats me. But that wasn't enough for him, this time. He held me down and stuck the knife in my mouth and asked me why I was always so serious, he said I needed to smile more. So he fixed that. As I was lying there bleeding and screaming my mom attacked him. He took the knife to her next. So while he was busy I got a can of gas and poured all of it on him. He screamed so much as he stood there burning. And nothing has ever felt so good than to see him covered in flames." Bruce couldn't tell but by the end tears were streaming down the Joker's face steadily. But his voice never lost that hollow tone to it, like he had told this story so often it didn't hurt anymore. But Bruce knew better. He knew what it was like to try and at like everything was ok, when in reality nothing was.
"I don't know what to say…" and he didn't. Words failed him after hearing that. It was so easy to forget that the Joker wasn't always the Joker. He wasn't always the man that fought with him consistently. Some of his other enemies eventually went away but he never did. He was the only constant in Bruce's life. The only one that he could count on being there. In a way, it was poetic.
"There's nothing for you to say. I don't regret anything I did and to be completely honest, I don't even know if I would change it. I guess it doesn't matter now. It's all in the past." The Joker stood up and pulled a tulip from his coat pocket. He twirled it in his hand for a moment before letting it fall to the street. He turned away from the edge and began to walk away.
"Until next time, Batty." He muttered as he casually strolled away. Bruce watched the tulip hit the pavement below and turned to say something to the Joker, but he was already gone. So he turned back to the ledge.