Chapter Text
In the wake of the Joker's capture, the public's obsession with him reached an all time high. His identity became the subject of speculation, his motives and his mind created fuel for thousands of talk shows, where experts of all kinds offered infinite variations of the same story.
The city's morbid fascination with the Joker was impossible to escape. On his way to work, Bruce walked by a bookstore where a full shelf displayed no less than eight different books on the Joker. One of them written by a psychiatrist. Another by a criminologist. None of them had had close contact with the Joker case.
And he knew there were more to come, for sure. Even though, for now, all there was was speculation. He knew it was just a matter of time until someone from Arkham wrote an official book, but the institution was being unusually secretive, so it wouldn't be any time soon.
Bruce had to admit, Arkham was handling the Joker's privacy very competently. Annoyingly so, for his own curiosity. Since his capture, they had been perfectly hermetic, and no information about the Joker had reached the public at all.
Some people even speculated that he had been killed on his first week there, but he didn't give those rumors much credit. No, this was one of Arkham's most sensational cases. They were being careful, and discrete, and for a very good reason.
The coffee shop where he got his morning coffee had a shelf with the newest hits as well. He grabbed one of the newest, boldly called "I, Joker. A look into the mind of Gotham's most dangerous criminal"
Bruce couldn't help but smirk. Despite the bold claims, the book was just another cash grab, full of baseless speculation written by someone with questionable credentials. Every book promised a detailed, intimate look into the Joker. Something that was, by definition, impossible.
He placed it on the counter and paid for both the book and his coffee. He would give it a quick look. He didn't expect anything interesting, but he had read almost every book written on the Joker at this point. It was like a collection. Save for a couple of legitimate papers, most were sensational garbage, only good for a laugh.
"The rise and fall of the dark knight", on display a few shelves further away, didn't interest him as much. He knew the story. He knew people were talking about it. There was no sense on dwelling in it, no matter how badly it stung.
On the elevator up to his office, he gave a quick peek at the book's index. He located the chapter dedicated to "the joker's personal life", and jumped to it. It was pretty standard speculation about his hypothetical traumatic childhood, his most likely abusive household, an adulthood full of misery and violence until he finally snapped... All baseless.
Then there were a few lines about his soul mark. Most authors mentioned it. It was fuel for speculation after all. But Bruce paid close attention to those mentions, because the Joker's mark was on the public record (it had leaked along with his mugshot), and he wondered if anyone out there had linked it to the words of the Bat that fateful night, over a year ago.
Nobody had. Fortunately, security recordings were not available to the public. And the guests who were present that night either didn't remember, hadn't heard, or simply did not care. But Bruce was satisfied that no further mention of it was being made.
The less people made that connection, the better. He had told Alfred, however. It hadn't been an easy decision.
His face was stern and severe when he explained, how he knew, how it had happened. His reaction had been that of a tired man, of someone who didn't think things could get worse, and hated to be proven wrong. But then he showed himself rational and pragmatic, as ever.
"Does he know? Did he notice?" Alfred had asked, about the Joker.
Bruce had frowned, remembering the only time the Joker had acknowledged their connected marks before being taken away. Hanging upside down with the Gotham harbor in the background, the Joker had pointed at his forearm, and laughed.
"What do you think this means?" He had said. "I think it means we're destined to do this forever."
Telling Alfred had lifted a weight off his shoulders, but they hadn't come any closer to a plausible explanation. One night, Alfred smiled, and offered Bruce his honest opinion on the phenomenon.
"I've always thought it was a sappy romantic thing, of course. My parents had matching marks, did you know that, master Wayne?"
Bruce had tried to smile, even though the assertion didn't comfort him at all.
"Were they happy?"
"They had their ups and downs, just like everyone else. At the end of the day, mark or no mark, life and love are what make a relationship work"
In the end, Alfred reached the same conclusion Bruce had: he didn't consider the matching marks worrisome, but he thought it was important to keep it in mind, because the way the Joker could react to it was unpredictable.
And without a way to look inside Arkham, it was impossible to speculate. With all his former Batman gear, he might have been able to get a bug planted somewhere, or hack into their database. Arkham's security system was only partially modernized, there was a lot of physical paperwork that couldn’t be hacked into. And they were taking their custody of the Joker very seriously. Not a word was getting out.
He considered pulling strings, bribing some employees, but decided against it once the feeling of powerlessness from being Bruce Wayne 24/7 began to wear off.
It wasn't easy, but things were looking up for Gotham. Bruce wondered if not being needed was what really made him sad. He was trying to get involved in the company, not enough to take charge, but enough to make himself useful. He dreaded being a burden at first, like a distant rich boss who hadn't worked in his life coming down to the garage to see real work being done. Once the research and development teams got used to his presence, and saw that his interest for learning was genuine, things eased into place.
He had also cut back from the partying. Without batman there was no point in keeping up the vapid asshole persona. The tabloids noticed his change of habits, attributed it to the loss of his childhood friend, and a desire to settle down and bring dignity back to the Wayne name.
It was all fine by him. Perhaps he was about to find out what being Bruce Wayne was truly like.
And as for the Joker, he would have to trust the professionals at Arkham. Certainly their rehabilitation record was depressingly low, but in some cases the best outcome would be just to keep the man imprisoned. He'd have to leave it at that, and learn to let go.