Ch10

Bruce breaths and fixes his suit again. Waiting in Dr Arkham's office to get permission to see the Joker. He knows he needs to, last night's revelations heavy on his mind.

Now here he stands, facing the man he faced yesterday morning, feeling completely different.

"I" Bruce says and the Joker looks up, hair a golden mess and face twitching. Large rings of black surrounds his eyes, evidence of little to no sleep. Bruce wonders how much of that can be contributed to him.

Bruce gulps. "I remember." The Joker looks at him, still not speaking. "I remember what I-I did. To you." That catches the Joker's interest.

"Selective amnesia, eh?" He looks haggered and tired, a different man. Then the Joker laughs, coming out in wips, sounding exactly like a hyena. Maybe not such a different man.

"I'm sorry." The Joker ignores him, picking at the fraying ends of his jumpsuit. "Mmh." Bruce can't bring himself to say anything. Instead he looks at his nemesis, and sees a boy. The Joker's face is surprisingly youthful, but lacking the usual energy. He dosen't look a day older than twenty five. It makes the guilt in Bruce's stomach twist up even more.

The scars roam across his face, but without the paint, they are less like a grotesque grin and more of two pitted and twisted lines across his face. Honey blond hair, and greenish eyes. Bruce glances away from his lips.

The Joker could have been beautiful. Bruce swipes across his face again. He still is. He wonders again. Whether this man has ever been loved. He doubts it. For all he has done, Batman can't bring himself to hate the Joker now, not because he has forgotten what the Joker did, but because he hates himself even more. Because he should know better.

"Like what you see?" Bruce snaps out of his contemplation. The Joker glances at him, curious but cautious, and Bruce can see that he is wary of him. He would be cautious of himself, as well.

"Are you just here to, uh, glo-at in my face, or is there actually something else?" The Joker sneers, pushing the chair as far away from Bruce as he can, in the small, dimly lit room. Bruce feels a twang of hurt at the accusation.
"I'm-I'm not here to." Bruce shakes his head. "No."

"You think ya broke me so easily, batsss?" The Joker hisses, voice full of venom. Of course not. Bruce thinks. He wouldn't be the Joker, a criminal mastermind if he breaks easily.

"No." The Joker is not broken, but he is different. Changed. Less outrageously flirtatious. Taken by silence more often. Bruce don't blame him. And the Joker is a lot more cautious and watchful. Bruce hates the changes.

"Sorry." He whispers to the Joker. He thinks that he will be saying that word for the rest of his life.

"Are you gonna jus' keep coming here until I say 'all is forgiven' or somethin'?" The Joker shuffles in his seat. Bruce shakes his head. Forgiveness is not something he expects.

He presses the button and lets himself out.

Notes: Brucie is always getting rejected by the Joker. Jk

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Chapter 11

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Chapter Text

Ch11

When Bruce shows up back in the penthouse, Alfred is waiting for him, pensive and aged.

"I would suggest you to stop doing that." He points to a bottle of scotch in Bruce's hands. Bruce ignores him and leaves for his room. Alfred sighs, looking and feeling years older. He worries for Bruce, who seems to be drinking like a fish lately, and patrolling until the wee hours of the morning, coming back bruised and fatigued. But drilling the fact that no, Alfred does not hate him through the young man's brain seems to be a task too large for him.

As for the Joker, whom Bruce insists on visiting so often, Alfred can safely say that it's complicated. It is best not to mention him in front of Bruce.

-
Bruce downs another mouthful of scotch, and thinks back to his visits to the Joker. The accusations still hurts, despite the man who said them has murdered Rachel.

Thinking about Rachel brings another pang to his stomach. She is right. He should have given up on Batman. Look at where it lead him. But he needs Batman, and she knows that, and chooses a normal life. He can't blame her.

The Joker killed her, and he let anger and a thirst for revenge get the better of him.

"Stop." He tries to tell himself. Drowning in self pity is not the best way to go at things. But he can't. Not when green eyes haunts his dreams and nightmares, the look in them from the night at the warehouse speaking volumes about who Bruce really is.

He thinks that the Joker can't drag him down to his level, because he is already worse than the painted man.

He wants to know. Wants to know what made the Joker the way he is. Full of fire and burning with chaos, and he wonders if it really is him, Batman, who drew the madman from wherever he was out of hiding and into Gotham. Bruce takes another swig.

"A-another." He slurs at Alfred after another glass. The disappointment in Alfred's eyes deepening his self loathing.
-

"What do you think about Bruce Wayne?" Harley inquires, interested in why the billionaire playboy is suddenly keen to play shrinky with the Joker. Is psychology suddenly a new interest amongst the rich and famous?

Harley sees, out of the corner that the Joker suppresses a flash of anger. She supposes that the cockroaches at the top angers him, like they anger many others.

"Wayne jus' wanna play the shrink or something.' Think it makes him, uh, special." His lips curls. Harley nods. She has no feelings of goodwill towards Wayne, anyways. She supposes that it's affected by Pam's low opinion of the man.

And she can't stand the idea of her patient being some sort of party talk, for Wayne to whip out and impress the rest of high society for.

"Soo…How do you feel about group therapy?" Harley asks. The Joker rolls his eyes. "I'm assuming I have group therapy because of the, I dunno, extra chairs?" He looks around him.

The guards opens the door and eyes the Joker warily. He grins and waves, hands free as Harley insists that he is not to be strapped down.

Two men and a woman sits down on various chairs around them. Kevin Chen, short Asian guy. Generally nice, pretty sweet to others, but is unpredictable and dangerous, having killed thirteen people by strangulation and choking. Not a good idea to expose your neck around him. Diagnoses, unsure.

Rosie Bennet, very pretty girl. Dark hair and bright blue eyes, full, pink lips curled up into a feral grin similar to the Joker's. Seems to have a knack for poisoning people, but according to police records, have also strangled, stabbed and set fire to others around her. Deep hatred of people in general, and great physical strength. Not a good idea to leave her unattended, or be alone with her. She has BPD, and maybe some other mental illnesses as well.

Johnny 'papa wolf' West. Driven mad by the death of his family, he sets out and murdered three families of five. Mother, Father, two sons and a daughter, just like his family. He is known to kill the fathers last, forcing them to watch as their families died. Diagnoses unknown.

The three all ended up in the Asylum before the Joker even came to Gotham, but the Joker's notoriety has all reached them.

"All right boys and girls!" Harley seems boisterous and unfazed by such a dangerous group of the criminally insane.

"Lets introduce ourselves! I am Dr Quinzel, but you can all call me Harley!" The four 'patients' eyes each other up and down, as if assessing the dangers of talking too early. Johnny West ended up introducing himself first. The people around him does not seem like ones to have families, but he will have to ask.

The Joker smacks his lips and say that they know who he is already, and Rosie Bennet addresses them with all the confidence of a femme fatale, remaining alert at all times.

Kevin Chen appears shy and soft, but the others can see that he has the eyes and the air of a killer.

"Lets get this party started!" The Joker is quite happy with some new playmates, some of them may be useful for getting out of this dump.

Harley makes the Joker talk first, about his childhood, so he told her the story where mommy touched him and daddy hit him and he took the knife to his face to finally make himself smile.

"You are lying." Kevin says softly, and instantly all eyes in the room are on him. "Now, now, boys." Harley intervenes. "Play nice, wouldcha?" Joker sticks his tongue out.

"Ya know, kevvy boy," The black haired man looks at Joker impassively, obviously very smart and dangerous. He knows the Joker can see through his mask of sweetness, so he decides not to use any masks.

The Joker's mouth tugs into a feral grin. "I like my past to be, uh, multi-choicesss" Harley tries not to frown when the time is up. She does want to help these people, but she can see that most of them may not want any help.

"All right guys, I think our time is up!"

Notes: So what do you think about my ocs and their backstories? They will be pretty minor in the fic though, so breath if you don't like ocs. :D And how do you think the story should go on? I'll be leaving for vacation, so updates would be sparse.

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Chapter 12 Chapter Text

Ch12

The Joker whistles happily as he sat down for food. Even the foul pile of mashed potatoes, grey meat and limp vegetables can't ruin his good mood. These people are much more interesting to pick apart than the usual depressed housewife and lonely businessman, now that he refuses to think about Batman.

The thought of Batman instantly destroys his mood. "Dammit." Joker swears and stabs his food with a plastic fork. Why did the bastard intend on meeting him in Arkham? And so apologizing, too. Obviously the guy just wants to remind him, again and again with that mug of his, of what the hell has happened.

His mind wonders back to when Batman told him 'I love you.' The previously offensive words becomes more dangerous, twisting in his stomach the way it wouldn't if anyone else has said it, in such a mocking fashion to him.

Because in the end, the Joker came to Gotham for Batman. And everything was not what he wanted, in the end. Truth be told, the Joker is pissed off at himself, for thinking that Batman is predictable in his righteous anger and penance for justice.

He hopes that Batman won't visit him again. As much as Joker hates to admit it, seeing the guy just reminds him and makes his nights so much worse, staring at the dark and waiting for a bat to drop out of the ceiling, like a bat out of hell. He giggles at his own joke.

The Joker starts stabbing his food when he hears a clink next to him. Turning around, he sees Kevin Chen, the guy from 'group therapy' calmly tucking into his mash next to him.

"Eh, ya seem braver than most." The Joker leers. "Not braver." Kevin turns and stares at Joker, eyes black pools of calmness. "Just smarter than most."
"Most, ah, smar-t people tend to avoid me." Joker takes a piece of Kevin's meat. "Whaddaya say?" Kevin ignores him and eats.

"Hey." He sees Johnny West sitting next to him as well. Joker ignores them.
"Don't cha wanna get out of this dump?" Johnny asks Kevin, who replies with a "mmf."

"Everyone wants ta get outta here." The Joker smirks. "They tell me I'm the, uh, only one who has done it." "Recently." They look up and sees Rosie Bennet. "You are the only one who has escaped recently. We have all done so before." The Joker shrugs.

"Hey boys." Rosie looks like a cat who caught the canary. Kevin sighs and leans back, licking his lips at her and flirting lazily. "I'd be turned on if I weren't asexual, ya know." Rosie winks at Kevin.

"Why the hell are you all here?" The Joker is quite irritated. Usually people shrink away from him and he welcomes that, and suddenly a group of people who seems not to be running away screaming bloody murder just appears out of nowhere and is attempting conversation with him.

"We know all the little creaks and cracks in the Asylum. You in?" Johnny whispers. "We are perfectly fine here, though." He winks at the Joker.

"Then why are you asking me?" The Joker notices a guard heading over out of the corner of his eye.

"We can make the doctors and nurses spin around our fingers," Rosie leans over at him. "We think that you fit in better out there." The Joker narrows his eyes. "Fit in? Fitting in isn't exactly what I wan-t." Kevin nods. "I can tell you have unfinished business out there. Besides, we don't want any...competition for this place." The Joker scoffs.

"Hey, what are you all doing?!" A big guard glares at the strange group, tone gruff. "Why frank-ey" The Joker leans in. "It's Fred." The others can see the guard is sweating now. Rosie licks her lips at him.

"Is talking illegal now?" The Joker licks his scars. It's delightful how people are unnerved by such a simple little gesture. The burly guard stalks away, still keeping an eye on the table. Many other inmates scoots away from the four, knowing who they are and sensing the danger.

-
Bruce swirls a small cup of wine in his hand, watching the red liquid (like blood!) move in the glass, light reflecting of it's many sides.
Batman knows for sure that he is not to drink alcohol, but ever since finding out what he has done, any moment not spent drunk off his mind is spent mulling over the details of the events.

He takes another sip, the look in the Joker's eyes, the betrayal and uncertainty and the hurt, branded into his psyche.

"Fuck!" Bruce roars, leaping up from the chair and hurling the glass against the wall, watching it shatter into a million brilliantly colourful pieces as the dark red liquid slide down the wall.

"I would suggest not to take out your frustration on the glasses, sir." Alfreds cool voice sounds behind Bruce's ears.

"Sorry." Bruce mutters.

"Are you going to see the Joker again?" Alfred feels great concern for the man. Seeing the Joker so often will just remind him, again and again of what has occurred, like ripping open a newly formed scab and poring salt into the wound.

Bruce nods. Seeing the Joker is like therapy of some sorts. Or an addiction. It makes him hurt with guilt, seeing the man so tired and angry and different, despite the murderous nature of the clown. Because he needs a constant reminder of what he has done, so he will never have another lapse and do it again.

Alfred knows he needs to stop Bruce's degeneration into darkness. The man did a terrible thing, but he needs to be helped and not be thrown away, which will push him further down the road of madness.

A therapist should do him good. But who can he trust in the whole truth with? He needs to ask Mr Fox, perhaps he knows someone who is good enough.

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Chapter 13

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Ch13
"Why the hell is Bruce Wayne wanting to see my patient again." Harley is seething in anger at Dr Arkham, and the man clad in a rich black suit that probably costs more than her apartment.

"Mr Wayne contributes greatly to the Asylum-" Jeremiah Arkham is unwilling to argue with the young doctor, as she is one of the best psychiatrists in Arkham and many high security patients trusts her.

However, the brilliant young doctor is on the verge of greatly insulting one of the Asylum's biggest contributors, whose numbers dipped quite a bit when a warehouse full of bodies, faces slashed in bloody grins shows up after the Joker's latest escape. The Asylum cannot afford to let Bruce Wayne slip away.

"I DON'T CARE!" Harley is screaming now. "EVERYTIME HE SHOWS UP THE PATIENT JUST BECOMES MORE VOLATILE!"

She points a finger at Bruce. "He has nightmares that just gets worse when you come here, he-you bastard!" "DOCTOR QUINZEL!" Dr Arkham is almost hyperventilating. Harley huffs, eyes wide in anger.
"Look" Bruce tries to step in. "Just calm down-" "CALM DOWN!" Harley shoves Dr Arkham, who is stammering frightened apologies at Bruce.

"WHY THE HELL SHOULD I CALM DOWN! YOU DON'T SEE HOW HARD IT IS TO CALM HIM DOWN AFTER HE HAS A GODDAMN FIT?!" Harley clasps a hand over her mouth. She swore to herself not to tell anyone of the Joker's panic attacks, which he appears to have no memories of once he recovers.

"Nevermind." Harley steps away from the two men.

"I apolpgise greatly, Mr Wayne-" Jeremiah hopes he dosen't have to fire Dr Quinzel to appeal the billionaire. Good doctors are extremely hard to find, especially in a place like Arkham, where the injury rate of doctors and nurses and guards alike a higher than even some high security prisons that house non insane inmates.

"No worries." Bruce mutters and steps aside. The Joker's condition, it seems, is much worse than what he sees, insomnia and layers of sarcasm and jabs and insults.

The Joker has panic attacks. That alone has him clenching his fists in anger and sickness. Bruce is sickened at his own actions, and selfish motivations for visiting the Joker. The wine feels light on his heavy tongue, and he wishes to be back at the manor, and to down maybe another bottle of scotch for his nerves.

Bruce steps into the meeting room, but is unable to meet the Joker's eyes. Not like he can do that without feeling a crippling guilt in his guts.

"Hi Batsss." The Joker licks his scars. "Nice ta, uh, see you again." "Do you.." Bruce holds his breath. The Joker grins at him, mocking and unwelcome in his young but so fatigued face.

"Are you all right?" Bruce asks, slightly drunk from this morning. "Do I have something on my face?" The Joker jokes.

Feeling braver than usual and fueled by alcohol, Bruce reaches over and cups his face. The Joker's grin freezes.

"You're so..." Bruce slurs and the Joker laughs, still strapped in a
straightjacket locked in a cameraless room together with the man who violated him.
"Strange tastes, Bats." Bruce strokes his cheek and scars. The Joker, sensing that Bruce is not jeering and smelling the alcohol on the man's breath. Joker struggles in the straps, trying in vain to reach the button that lets Bruce out, not caring about the strange sight that the guards and doctors would see.

Bruce leans down and kisses the Joker. Not the bloody bites that masqueraded as kisses in their previous encounters, but soft, lips to lips and not drawing blood.

"Sorry." Bruce whispers once he pulls away. "I-I love you." He says to the Joker, and lets himself out, too ashamed to call the guards.

Bruce feels lightheaded as he walks out, eyes vacant. He kissed the Joker without meaning to, further destroying whatever trust he is hoping to rebuild. Why is he trying to rebuild any imaginary trust? He has no idea. Bruce has a sudden urge to slam his head against the nearest wall, whatever the guards may think of him.

He vaguely remembers telling the Joker that he loves hi-. Bruce stops abruptly. Saying the words that he told the Joker the night in the warehouse again-

"I fucked up." Bruce says out aloud, the people escorting him eyeing him like an alien. He told a man words that would certainly bring back awful memories and he expects to be-

Bruce has no idea what he expects from these visits, apart from the fact that he needs them like he needs air and like he really, really needs another bottle of whatever that makes his guilt goes away.

Stepping into his car, Bruce tugs a bottle of tequila from a draw in the car and takes a sip. And another and before long he is forgetting about the ill fated meeting and slamming his feet on the accelerator, wind on his face, caressing his hair and loud music to soothe his mind.

Notes: I have a bad feeling about this...

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Chapter 14 Chapter Text

Ch14

The Joker's mind buzzes with the scene in the room. What the hell does Batman mean when he told him that he loves him? Mocking, of course, but the Joker can see when people are genuine(very rarely) and he looks exactly so.

And the kiss that is still lingering on his lips tastes of wine, and probably not
the cheap kind. This means that Batman is most likely drunk when he was there. They say that a drunk man tells no lies.

"Mr. Joker?" Harley inquires. The Joker seems so out of it every time they have a session, which is usually after Wayne's visits. Bruce fucking Wayne probably don't understand how hard it is to see a patient who she has come to care for looking so vacant and hollow, with only money and wild parties in his small, dick shaped brain.

"I'm fine." The Joker mutters. Every time he has a visit Harley always hounds him for information. Why does she care, anyways. Everyone wants something from him. She might just want to 'cure' him like the other doctors and make a name for herself. People are all simple like that.

If this is what they want from him, what does he want from himself? The Joker has no ideas, for once, so he ignores that question.

Harley spends a good section of the session trying not to end it early, but she still did in the end. The Joker is too quite, and it unnerves her.

"Is there anything you want to talk about?" She attempts to get the Joker talking again. He ignores her completely. They make much more progress when Bruce Wayne is not interfering like the asshole he is.

In the end, Harley relented and sends the Joker back to his room.

-
"Mmmphf.."

Bruce struggles to get up from the bed, tired eyes seeing an expanse of white.

"Am I dead..?" He murmurs at a blurry shape in front of him.

"I'm afraid not, mister Wayne." The blurry shape turns out to be Alfred's disappointed face.

Alfred breaths a sigh of relief. When he heard that Bruce has been in a drunk driving accident he almost had a heart attack, and nearly fell over in surprise when he hears that Bruce was the one doing the drunk driving, a bottle of tequila found near him in the crash site. In hindsight he should not be surprised, with Bruce drinking like a fish lately.

Obviously, the incident made it's way on all the celebrity watch and gossip magazines, and even a few 'proper' news papers.

Bruce blinks his eyes as he tries to focus on the piece of paper Alfred is now waving in his face. When the words becomes clear in his eyes Bruce groans, knowing where this is going to lead him.

"Billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne injured in car crash."

"In a car crash caused by Gotham City's resident philanthropist... Bruce Wayne... three others were injured...drunk driving...no known deaths...a disappointment to his name..."

"I insist that you stop this nonsense right this moment, master Bruce, and get a therapist." The stoic butler is more determined than ever. If Bruce goes out drunk off his backside as Batman, who knows what will happen to him?

"And what do I tell the therapist? Everything?!" Bruce will not give up his secret. And he will definitely not tell a therapist everything that has happened in the past few weeks. He is fine with things just the way it is.

"I suggest you do, sir. If you have to know, one of Wayne enterprises' employees, Pamela Isley, happens to have a psychiatrist girlfriend-"

"No." The gut wrenching guilt returns with the mention of Harley Quinzel. If she is accusing and angry now, what would she do with full knowledge of Bruce's secret identity and what he has done?

Alfred frowns. He sees Bruce tense at the mention of Ms. Harleen Quinzel. A past girlfriend, perhaps? He could never keep count of them. It would be a good idea to get someone else, then. Alfred is determined that Bruce should not go out as Batman with a broken arm and a drinking problem. Maybe he should pay the Joker a visit himself.

"You are Wayne's butler?" Alfred glances at the twitchy young lady glaring at him. The infamous Dr Harleen Quinzel, the Joker's psychiatrist. Looks like Bruce does have a good idea of not going to her, unless the secret is already out of the cage, with the Joker, you never know.

"I happen to be, yes." Harley stares at him. Maybe the old man would be nicer than Wayne to Mr. J, but Harley knows that you can't trust calm demeanours and nice smiles. And Pam did tell her a few days ago that the entire lot with Wayne, including her boss Mr Fox, is dodgy and hiding something.

"Excuse me, but what do you want with Patient 4379?" She hides behind a veil of professionalism.

"Just to see why Mr Wayne is so insistent of visiting him, young lady."

Harley smiles a smile that is so fake that a child can see through it.

"Well, I do want to know that, too." Harley leaves the room, and the guards guide Alfred through the maze like Asylum to a high security meeting room.

The look of the man surprises Alfred. The madman has lost a few pounds off his skinny frame, if that was at all possible.

"At least it's not your brat that is here this time." Joker greets the butler. He has to say that Batman not being here makes him breath a little easier. He needs to get rid of this irrational fear of Batman quickly.

"I am just interested." The Joker raises an eyebrow. The butler seems much more willing to play this little game of words than Brucey.

"Well, Jeeves, I think you know what-uh, happene-d." Alfred nods. What Bruce did. He has to say it shocked and hurt him greatly.

"Bruce was not in his right mind. What he did was wrong." Joker glares.

"The why did he try to molest me when he, uh, pay these little visits?" The Joker leaps on the floor. Apparently they didn't bother to cuff him or strap him down, thinking that Wayne's butler is not as important as the man himself.

Alfred's eyes widens. Bruce seems to have left that little detail out of their talks. "What did he do?"

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Chapter 15 Chapter Text

Ch15

"Nothing much, really. Just tried to make out with me-h."
Joker grins. It seems that Batsy's butler doesn't know the little games he plays. Humph. Like The Joker would let the little bat-brat play him like one of the pretty models that hang off his arms.

Alfred stiffens. Bruce should know better, than to taunt the man he assaulted with the threat of further violation. The Joker brought Bruce's beloved city to it's knees and killed a girl that he considers his granddaughter and the only hope for a normal life for Bruce, but he has seen the extent of the clown's injuries and him being mentally ill just makes it so much wor-

"Jeeves? Yo ho! Ya there?!" The clown prince of crime gleefully interrupts Alfred's train of thought. Alfred turns to him and nods.

"Tell Brucey to stop toying with me." The Joker's face darkens as he leans forward to Alfred, who puts on a impassive mask again.

"Times up!" The guard outside calls an Alfred leaves with them. He would have to talk with Bruce.

"Welcome back boys and girls!" Harley leaps into the air comically. It's group therapy time again!

"Soo..." Harley observes the little group. She objected in putting so many patients from various levels together, but some doctors with 'connections' with administration decides that it is a good idea to shove their harder patients to her for group therapy. This is a disaster waiting to happen. She did not even intend for putting the original group together, having in mind a few milder patients for the Joker to interact with, and administration shoves other serial killers in a cramped room with him. At least they gave her a bigger room this time.

"Are we ready to begin?" She looks around. They stare back at her, unimpressed with the young doctor. She'll show 'em.

"As ready as ever, doc!" Rosie yells and her playmates glares at her. They should be planning how to get the Joker as far away from their Asylum as possible. His presence would influence their control. She winks at them. 'I have a plan.'

Unspoken conversations are usual amongst the group of three. They have been working together for so long that a change in body language, a glance can be used to convey volumes.

Johnny knows that Kevin has a crush on Rosie for years, the way he looks at her. The feelings could damage the group, and it would just not do. Can't work, with Rosie completely uninterested in anything sexual or romantic, flirting for the sake of it and Kevin, who falls into deep obsessions that takes years to get out of.

The Joker has other things in mind. The meeting with Bat's butler has proved...interesting, but he would rather he can't see bats, or anyone associated with him anywhere near his body. That bastard. And what Batman said? He would rather never think of the implications.

No. He must be lying.

And What a lie it is.

"Bruce."

Bruce looks up from the glass of wine clutched in his hands. Alfred has locked up the alcohol cabinet, but he can't stop him from indulging and buying his own.

"Yes, Alfred?" Bruce hates how groggy and tired his voice sounds. He knows better. Having neglected long nights of patrol and exercise in favour of drinking and moping around.

"Well, I went to see the Joker..." Alfred frowns when Bruce chokes on his drink.

"Is there something you are not telling me?"
Bruce shakes his head. "I'm going out as Batman tonight." Alfred sits sown next to him.
"I raised you, Bruce, and I would know when something is wrong." He shushes Bruce who tries to protest. The boy he cared for is still there, under the skin of this man who hides his problems under a sense of carelessness.

"I'm locking the doors to the basement. You need a break." Alfred glares at the glass in his hands and turns, not mentioning the Joker and what he told him.

Bruce glares at the retreating back of the man who raised him. There is an itch under his skin, that screams at Batman to go and scout the city, preferably without the (pleasant) haze of alcohol clouding his mind. There is only one other way into the cave without going through the elevator, and that is to go through the tunnel he built when anger hazed his mind and all he wants to do is to capture the Joker under false justice.

Taking another gulp of the warm liquid, Batman reaches for the hidden tunnel with the encouragement of alcohol.

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Chapter 16

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Ch16

The hidden track is dark, suiting his dark and disturbed mood. Bruce knows that facing what he has done would be hard, harder than facing mobsters and psychopaths.

The dark goes on forever. Or at least until he reaches the secret 'room'. The too familiar mattress still has bloodstains on it, and hastily opened shackles across clean, dead tile floor.

Bruce has to control his breathing to not go insane in this room, and the metal pole lying on the tile, covered in blood and dried, white-
Warm blood dripping from his lip jerks Bruce out of his thoughts. He bit through his bottom lip. The blood form meaningless patterns on the cold floor.

Unable to stay a moment longer, Bruce pushes the trapdoor and climbs into his cave. The Batcave.

Putting the suit on takes an effort, with his hazy mind. But when the cowl finally clicks on, Batman feel a sudden alertness break through the drug. Gotham needs him, and he will not leave Gotham to fight it's darkness alone, even if the pain from the car crash pulses underneath his skin.

The Joker leaves the limp bodies of the guards lying around the gates of Arkham, bloodied grins carved on their necks. Any idiot can see what he has done. As for doctor Quinzel, well...He would like to kill her, hehe, but the little doc is not at Arkham tonight. Lucky kid.

Well, he has to say that tonight's, uh, escape has alot to thank from the other resident crazies, of course. But tonight! Tonight! The Joker rips off the security guard's uniform and pulls on a spare purple suit. Taking the paint and covering his face, forming the familiar war paint.

Boys and girls, the Joker is back, and he's got big plans for Gotham Cit-y!

Batman clutches his injured side. Because of his haziness, he miscalculated. The knife wound in his side throbs, and the thug who attacked him escaped.

Is he going to die like this? Batman wonders and he leans against a wall, listening to himself breath and feel the blood leaving his body. The last thing he sees is the Joker's face floating by his face. And he never got to apologise properly. Batman reaches out to touch his face, but blood loss takes over and he slides down.

When the Joker finds Batman lying on the ground, he thought to leave him there. But somehow, without this man, his life becomes...meaningless. So against what he told himself, Joker crouches down.

When Batman reaches out for him, the Joker finds that, for once, what he feels is too complicated to explain.
So he pulls the kevlar-clad vigilante and takes him, step by step, to a nearby warehouse. It was only when he pulls the kevlar plates away from Batman that Joker realises that he has been crying. His tears washed away the paint. His mask.

When Batman wakes, he finds himself bandaged up with a small note lying by his hand. Struggling to pull himself up, he focuses on the note.

"Goodbye."

One word and a doodle of a smiley face deconstructs Bruce's world.

Everything changes. Batman hangs up his suit. Everything ends. The Joker never came back.