Chapter Text
5:26 AM, the time the dark knight finally gets to sleep, when the sunrise is coming and civilians are awaking.
But not him, he sleeps, like the nightcrawling creature he is. But tonight, not even then the odds would let him rest.
Bruce was barely able of putting his head on the pillow when his phone rang, and for the sake of whoever called, he hoped it was important.
"Wayne. What is it?" He brought himself to speak, rolling on his back to a sitting position again.
"Gordon." The man on the other side of the line cleared his throat. "We need Batman at Arkham, now."
Bruce sighed. "What happened?"
The older man was growing impatient, Bruce could tell by the loud groan that although he was sure the comisioner had let out away from the phone, was still pretty audible. "It's important."
Finally, Bruce resigned to his faith of a restless day and replied. "On my way." He didn't think being angry at this time was good for the old man, and neither for him to try arguing.
Almost 2 hours of a drive later, he was by the gates of the asylum, being welcomed in with such eagerness that pointed at him that /everyone/ probably knew he was expected.
"Gordon." The comisioner was waiting for him in the hall, and Bruce could tell it probably wasn't good by the look on the man's eyes. "What happened?"
Jim scratched the back of his head, frowning, that distinctive look that was currently his seal welcomed him. "He's dead."
And by the commotion in the place, and the importance of the news for the asylum. He didn't even need to hear a name.
The Joker was dead, and that night, Gotham would sleep in peace.
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2 WEEKS LATER,
It was just time until the fights in Gotham's crime started, everyone fighting with claws and teeth for the empty chair the Joker left. And that gave Batman a lot of work, and a lot of time to clear up his mind.
It didn't make sense, it just didn't, no matter how he put the puzzle pieces in his head. It still didn't match.
The forensic report was simple; Suicide, clean with a revolver that no one ever tried to explain how he even managed to get. He left no note, no hidden message, no games.
That was what gave it away, the Joker wouldn't have used to gun to kill himself and if he had he would have made sure to give a hell of trouble after he was gone.
But this was not the case, the only thing left from the clown was his mourning sidekick and gang trying to defend his place. And that led Batman into biting even less into the suicide, his people thought he was still out there.
But what if he was? What if he was really out there?
WAYNE MANOR, 4:20 AM
Batman's work was done, and he could finally rest.
He decided to take a shower instead, that specific night the pain on his back and the storm reign in his mind decided that it would take a lot to make him sleep. He knew, he just knew.
He turned on the warm water and soon the room was full of vapor and the mirror was covered in fog.
He placed the silk robe aside, and quietly stepped into the water, sighing in satisfaction.
Bruce just stayed there for a moment, quiet, letting the water damp his hair and relax the muscles of his back and neck. And think, definitely think.
Until he felt goosebumps on the back of his neck, he froze in fear.
Noone was behind him, he was sure, it was impossible. They would have had to go through Wayne Manor's security system, Alfred and the door didn't even crack.
But he could swear he felt cold air blowing on the back of his neck..
The breath of a dead man.
And even if he knew it was impossible, the possibility was chilling. He couldn't believe this man was driving him insane even after death.
He rushed to finish his shower and get out of there as soon as possible. He didn't sleep at all that day.
GOTHAM CITY, 3 WEEKS LATER.
The wind blows wildly that night, like a thousand war horses anticipating the dark knight's fight.
He'd grown convinced that he needed answers, he needed to see a body at least. He needed closure, he needed to not feel haunted by the ghost of his worse enemy.
And he knew exactly who to consult for that.
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GOTHAM CITY, THAT NIGHT.
"Quit the games, Quinn." He remained hidden where the bullets from Joker's sidekick couldn't reach, and he remembered that this was on the first times he was able of fighting her alone. And honestly? She was putting a fair fight. "I just want to talk!"
The fire eased, briefly, and he was able of getting a peak of blue eyes covered in thick layers of blue and pink makeup. "No way! B-man! I may be out of mah mind, but I'm no Idiot." And the hostile fire started again. "I know ya will get me locked up in the same place where I lost mah puddin' as soon as I let you get hands on me."
He knew that she would run away soon, and her track would be way more difficult to get this time, he needed to do something kick.
A smoke grenade was thrown her way, and the curtain of smoke was just what he needed to take her gun away and, hopefully, answers.
"What the..STOP! Whatcha think you're doing?!" He wrapped one hand around her wrist, tightening his grip until she let go of the gun.
"We need to talk about The Joker."
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"What about Mr J?" Harley bit the corner of her lip, eyes darting to the floor. She might be good with guns, but lying didn't seem her strong fit.
"Where is he?" The knight asked, that night he wasn't having it. In fact, with all the little sleep he had in the last week, he wasn't having it at all.
"Well, he's dead, B-man! I thought you were at Arkham when.." —"We both know that it's not true, Harley! I need the truth, where is the Joker? Spill it now or I'll get you locked up in Arkham and I promise you will never see sunrise again." He interrupted. Barking furiously in his usual Batman tone, which in this situation sounded angrier than often.
But then, she broke into tears, paint running down her cheekbones. And he couldn't help but feel a tiny ounce of pity.
"They did,," She sobbed ",, Something to him. I know Mr J better, he wouldn't just blow his brains off, not in a good day at least." Her eyes reddened on the white edge, full of uncertainty and anger. Like the mother of a child killed by the system. "They did something to him. I don't trust them, B-man, they aren't good people and they harmed my puddin."
That's all he needed to know, and he left the mourning and clueless girl to cry in that alley. Half hoping that she'd get a warm place to sleep in that night.
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ARKHAM ASYLUM, THAT NIGHT.
The night was cold, like knives stinging the exposed parts of his face by the cowl. And Arkham seemed particularly colder, he could easily see this place driving people to insanity rather than curing.
And walking by the hallways, he could hear the chorus of inmates screaming his name, and he knew that the person he wanted to see probably already knew he was home.
"Doctor." The knight called, and the greying head turned around with a jerk forward. Almost shacking, the look of a guilty man hanging from his face.
"B..Batman, we weren't expecting you." The old man fixed his glasses, not able of breaking eye contact with the bat but yet practically melting with every second.
"I'm aware, I came here to see you." Batman growled, taking a step forward the man. "I know."
The doctor gulped. "Y..You know?"
His hands grasped the man's shirt neck, pushing him against the wall. "I know about the Joker, I know about the recent 'deaths', I know everything. And you're going down."
The man let out a choked cry, tears spiking on his eyes like needles. He was guilty, and he knew that his career was over. "Please don't tell the comisioner, I'm making huge advances. I need my project to stay intact."
—"Show me. Show me and I'm shut."
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"We're performing surgeries on them, by severing the connections between frontal lobes or prefrontal cortex, taking the patients into an 'induced childhood' state, if you will." The doctor spoke gripping the edge of his notebook like a lifesaver. "We tried it in non-severe patients, it was pretty successful. We didn't know if we wanted to risk it, but we decided to try it on our worse patient." The Joker.
"Did it work?"
The Doctor stopped by one of the metal isolation doors and Bruce followed, hardly grasping that with that silence there was any possibility for the Joker to be behind that door.
" Why don't you find out yourself?"
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ARKHAM ASYLUM, CELL 420#
"Joker." The Doctor spoke, the man sitting by the floor didn't even flinch. "You have a visit."
And so, he was left alone with the last person he'd want to be locked with.
Bruce just observed him for a moment, and the Joker didn't seem in a rush to talk neither. I fact, he wasn't sure that he knew he wasn't alone.
He wasn't wearing any facepaint, and he almost looked naked. He was wearing a simple onesie with his cell number on his back and chest, and instead of a mat of green locks there was gold instead.
He was just sitting in front of a white wall, where he made traces with a small red crayon. Surprisingly, he was good.
And judging by the red-covered walls, pretty bored as well.
"Joker." Still, nothing. "Do you remember me?"
He sighed. Oh, 'so you're just ignoring me.' Bruce thought, and he couldn't help but feel slightly offended.
"You don't want to talk?" Still ignoring.
So Bruce decided to call it a night, but at least this time he'd be able to sleep in peace.
/and maybe he'd come back in the morning./