"I want you only to consider it, Master Wayne." Alfred pleaded as they sat in one of the mansion's many drawing rooms and Bruce stared idly out of the window, his head resting limply in his hands. A look of incredulity ghosted across his tired face briefly as a passing helicopter whirred by. Light filtered in strips through binds, casting strange patterns across his sharp features.

"I simply cannot believe it Alfred. It's not possible." He returned with a melancholic vehemence found only in the emotionally drained.

"But it is! It makes perfect sense and you know it."

"The Joker is not a helpless child! He steals! He lies! He murders! He blows up hospitals for the sheer fucking hell of it! He is not a victim!"

"You think a man like that's not a victim? He's practically a victim of himself. In fact, he's far too much a victim of himself to act so…rationally." Bruce did not respond and Alfred stepped closer and placed a hand on his shoulder. "They found the tapes in the rubble of the precinct. "Crane was shot cleanly. The Joker does not use guns and even if he did, where would he have gotten one?" Bruce still did not respond and this time Alfred knelt before him painstakingly, his old bones creaking. "They found heaps upon heaps of counterfeit bills in Crane's apartment. Millions." Bruce's eyes widened. "Who do you think gave it to him sir? Certainly not the Joker. The last heap of money he came across he burned like a bloody pyre-"

"No one would pay for the Joker's escape."

"No one we know, sir."

Bruce frowned deeply, for the first time looking at his butler. "What are you saying Alfred?"

"A man like him, though seemingly not at all, is just a man. Men live, men die, men are born, and men have pasts. It is a good bet that a person from his past has kidnapped him, although since we know nothing of his past, we do not know whom."

"But they would have to be insane!" The younger man swore as he ran his fingers through his hair.

"Undoubtedly, sir." His butler replied with a sardonic little grin and Bruce sighed.

"You want me to investigate, don't you?"

"Of course! Whether he's been kidnapped or escaped he belongs in that asylum! I don't care if he's out roaming the bloody streets or under the watch of his Great Aunt Tessie! The man does not belong out in the world! I'm just telling you where the evidence points, sir."

He sighed and rubbed his temples before walking toward the window and splaying his fingers against the play of light and shadow. Through the crook of his arm he peered back at his long-time servant and constant friend.

"You're right." He breathed, utterly defeated.

Alfred nodded. "I've sent out for some information. It should arrive within the next few days." He sad and fled the room before Bruce could further question him.

Diane Gordon sighed miserably as she toed her worn house slippers on and off at a loss of what else to do. For the first time in months a day when both of her kids were out and she and her husband were in blessedly coincided. She had been ecstatic when the realization first hit her. She and Jim had, had very little time to spend together since he had been promoted to commissioner and while she was both very proud and happy for her husband, she missed him greatly.

She had woken up that Sunday morning expecting a simple day of cuddling and bad television and sex with her husband and found their bed empty.

"Jim!" She called and received no reply. After several more useless attempts she peeled herself from her bed, wrapped her naked body in a red silk robe she had not even thought of wearing in months and toed down the stairs. She entered the living room to find him pacing madly.

Her heart sank. This would never do. She had not seen him so worked up since the Joker had terrorized Gotham years ago. His mouth was drawn into a thin line, his eyes were hard, and his hands quaked as he shot from wall to parallel wall and back again.

"Jim." She said quietly and he did not respond. She walked up to him an placed a hand on his arm. He sighed, not even deigning to mask his annoyance as she stopped him. He looked up at her expectantly; obviously eager to find out what was so important that she felt it necessary to disturb him.

As she could think of no way to express her sadness that did not make her sound needy and ridiculous, she kept silent as she regarded him and hoped that her eyes could convey it. Hope sparked brightly within her as his hand came to lightly encircle her bicep.

"The postal service doesn't deliver mail on Sunday does it?" He asked her almost dreamily and she remained silent as her heart sank. "Not once in the twenty odd years we've lived here. Right hon?" He breathed and her voice cracked as she breathed a quick "No." and fled the room. She returned to her bedroom and cried softly as she fiddled listlessly with her slippers. She knew that Jim would again be the man she loved once the Joker was put behind bars. She hated him. That lunatic always made her husband so crazy.

Jim briefly regarded his upset wife and found himself at a loss to describe her behavior. Soon enough his mind turned back to the unopened letter in his pocket. The unopened letter which had popped up in his mailbox before the sun had risen on a Sunday morning. The unopened letter sealed with the same bat signal he had been forced beat in and shatter beyond repair several years before.

The cadence of his wife's feet tramping up the stairs had dissipated long since, leaving the house in an almost oppressive silence. The letter weighed heavily in his hand as he took the butter knife from last night's half eaten leftover lasagna, wiped the residue on the knee of his pajama pants and gently took it to the letter. He was hyper-aware of the paper sliding across his fingers as he unfolded the note inside.

Commissioner,

To be concise, I believe that the Joker did not, indeed, escape…

Jim Gordon let out a valiant cry as the letter listed every suspicion and thought he had regarding the situation. Everything from the lack of theatrics to the strange quiet which had descended over the city since his alleged escape was written as plainly as day. He couldn't help but grin. For nearly a week such thoughts had plagued him.

…and if we wish to catch the perpetrator and see to it that the Joker is returned to a facility of even higher security we must act quickly. Obviously we cannot meet in person, so this will be our line of communication. I believe that someone from the Joker's illusive past has taken him as after last time no criminal on earth would touch him.

Judging by the piles of money found in Crane's apartment it is someone of sensational wealth. Despite your office's reluctance, have an inquiry made and ask witnesses to come forward. Investigate Arkham. It should change their minds quickly.

Enclosed is a piece of hair. While his finger-prints may have yielded no results as each person's are individual, his DNA will bare a resemblance to someone's and there is a very good chance that it will be a marked criminal within your databases.

Send the results to me in this same envelope and place it in your mail box. It will be collected accordingly.

Gordon nearly squealed with glee. The letter was not signed, but it had to be batman. He simply knew the man would get the Joker, just like he had last time. He looked and saw in the bottom of the opened envelope several strands of Golden hair stained rust green. After deftly maneuvering the stands into a plastic bag he tucked it away and nearly sprinted from his living room to his car. The lab technician Pieter Jacobs owed him a favor and would run the hairs quietly and with no questions asked.

He had only to wait for the results. The first piece of the puzzle which was the joker was almost within his grasp.

Review reply:

Pride1289: Next chapter! Yay!

A/N: Does anyone else miss the clinic scenes in House MD?