"You've gone too far this time!" Batman shouted while he was chasing the Clown Prince of Crime on the rooftops of Gotham city. Rain soaked even more his suit making him heavier and slower in the movements. But that didn't matter. He had to get to him. He had to.

During the night, Bruce had been awakened with a start by his adoptive son, Tim, he was panicking. The boy had his black hair all over his forehead and his eyes were bloodshot like he had seen a ghost or something. Bruce, really, didn't want to get up. It was two in the freaking morning!

But Tim had practically dragged him out of bed, down the stairs, and he found himself, groggy as he was, in the living room of his huge house, on his couch. Some minutes later, Alfred came too and sat beside him watching the Gotham news.

Bruce had been shocked by what he saw. Apparently the Joker had escaped from Arkham, again, and he was spreading chaos in his beloved city. Then he had barricaded himself into an hospital and blown it up.

Bruce had left like lightning, squeezing himself in his suit like he did every night and put the mask on.

This time wasn't like any other night, though. Joker had always been trying to make his life hell. He had some pervert attraction to Gotham's Vigilante. But not this time. It was all different. Something was wrong in the Clown's behavior. And, if Bruce had paid more attention to it, maybe, all this mess wouldn't have happened.

Now he was running, almost flying, on the rooftops. He was chasing the lunatic. He had seen him, for just a second, before. He looked like he had been brutally tortured. Evidently, he had gone through hell, caged in Arkham. But this was very well known. The guards abused the patients. And their favorite target was the Joker, everyone knew it. This was because he never screamed. He laughed. He seemed to be immune to pain. But Bruce knew better of it. He knew the clown felt it. But he always kept laughing, not realizing how dangerous his condition was or how he put himself and others in danger.

Bruce saw his green hair on one of the roofs and ran to it, trying to reach him as fast as he could.

"Joker!"

Laughter could be heard in the background. His laughter. Bruce always thought that the Joker faked his condition. Just to avoid to be indicted. But then he understood. That Clown was really sick. And he needed so much help. And Bruce was pretty sure that, with all those punishments in Arkham, he couldn't get better. He tried to get the guards, who abused the prisoners, fired. But often happened that, a lot of them, weren't so silly to get themselves be caught by the vigilante. He also knew that some of them abused the prisoners sexually. Often by admission of the sick themselves. Bruce believed them. He had caught one doing it and had him arrested immediately.

Despite this, Joker seemed to be okay. He never said anything. He never had complained about the punishments. And, even if he suffered something else, he never acknowledged it. Every time Bruce met him, he always smiled. Every single time.

"Joker!" He shouted. His voice was hoarse. His body weak. His ears rang. More laughter, mitigated by the roar of the thunders that lighted the grayish sky of the night.

And then, finally, he reached him. He landed on one of the many roofs, and barely stood. But he held on.

The Clown was kneeling on the ground, on the edge of the roof. He was looking down. Towards the abyss.

Batman approached him immediately, standing alongside him on the edge. Joker didn't turn around. "Batsy." He said. His voice coming out a broken whisper. His eyes were unfocused. Bruce was worried. He never saw the Clown in that state. Now that he was near him, he could see the extent of his injuries.

His pale face was a set of bruises and cuts. His cheeks almost sank in on themselves, sign that they didn't give him enough food in the hospital. Or, they gave it to him, but he didn't eat. He was thinner than usual.

"Did you miss me?" Asked Joker. He looked away from the void and a pair of bright green eyes met the blue one on Gotham's protector. As soon as he saw them, Bruce's blood froze in his veins. Joker's face was wet and his eyes were watery, red and puffy. Bruce couldn't understand if those that lined his cheeks were tears, rain or a mix of the two.

"You have been in Arkham. For all this time." He answered. His voice expressionless as always.

Joker smiled. "I'll take it as a yes." His voice still a whisper. Watching him in the eyes still. "Will you miss me?"

Bruce couldn't see where the clown wanted to go with all those questions, but he answered anyway. "You've killed more than fifty people tonight." Bruce's voice now was full of grief, almost a snarl.

The Joker turned around and continued, watching the void. "Really?" he asked with a dreamy look on his face. "I thought more. But, actually, I did them a favor." He said. But stopped trying to restrain his uncontrollable laughter. "You know? Most of those patients were terminal. I know it. I read the files." Again he started laughing. Hunching over from the pain in his chest, in his ribs.

Bruce, in a fit of wrath, grabbed him from the collar of Arkham's uniform and pulled him up. Joker kept on laughing, taking hold of Batman's so much stronger wrists which held him above the floor.

Bruce started hitting him, hard. He was blinded by hatred. It was easier to think like those ruthless guards. The Joker brought it on himself. But he kept on laughing, almost not realizing he couldn't breathe. Bruce came to a stop just some time later the lunatic had stopped laughing. He had stopped breathing.

"Joker?"

Nothing. He waited for some seconds, watching as blood seeped down slowly from the man's mouth and nose. Bruce shook him, placing a finger under his nose, checking if he was still breathing. He wasn't.

"Joker!"

Still nothing. The lunatic was lying on the ground, with his face and his chest full of contusions and bruises. Bruce shook him one more time. He placed then two fingers on his white, wet neck waiting for a pulse. There was none.

What did I do?!

Panic started getting hold of his body, making him sank on the floor, making him dizzy.

He had to do something.

Anything.

Now.

And he started CPR.