"Now," Dick began, "We wait."

"Huh?" Tim raised an eyebrow.

"We wait until Bruce comes forward. Wait for him to come to us and tell us what's going on." Dick clarified. Tim gave a still confused 'ohhhh' in response, pretending like he understood what Dick had meant when he really didn't.

"We can't just sit around!" Barbara piped up. "We need to act!"

"What do you mean?" Dick asked, "What are we supposed to do?"

Barbara paused, her eyes drifting as she thought. While she knew they couldn't just wait around for Bruce, she didn't know exactly what they could do. Then she had an idea. Her face lit up as she spoke, "Here's what we do..."

**********

Days passed. The safe room had been fully transformed into the holding cell he and Alfred had designed, and it was the day that he and Gordon were supposed to meet for the dropoff. Everything was ready. All he had to do was wait for nightfall. Until then he had to find some way to occupy himself.

He had already cleaned the Batmobile; going through and making sure the back seat was secure just in case Joker woke up. He updated the settings and controls. Went through and took out anything that could be used as a weapon. He even added a new interior mirror so he could see Joker at all times. There was no way Joker could attack him.

His suit had also been updated ever so slightly; new programming had been implemented into the undersuit so that it'd let out an alarm if his life was put in danger. Along with that he had prepared syringes full of a tranquilizer if Joker showed any sign of consciousness. It was enough to knock him out again with the tranq already in his system from the original dose, but not powerful enough to be lethal. Even though he had taken the time to measure out the proper dosage he hoped he wouldn't need it.

He had even gone and reorganized the cave a bit. He had reattached some hooks to hang equipment, hanging extra grapple hooks and ropes from them. He welded small containers and stored supplies in them. He went through the computer and reorganized the files. He was about to start moving the relics and replicas that he had collected from his adventures when Alfred stopped him and sat him down.

"Master Bruce, you're worrying too much. You've done enough, just relax." Alfred soothed. Bruce had always gotten like this when he was nervous, even since he was young.

"I am relaxed, just jittery." Bruce explained to a very unconvinced Alfred. He tried to stand up again but Alfred placed a hand on his shoulder and pushed him into his seat.

"Sit." The butler said sternly. "I'll get you some lavender honey tea."

With that, Alfred left the cave and headed upstairs, leaving Bruce to only sigh. He was sure Alfred had a good point. He did need to relax, but he couldn't. It's not like he was doing something reasonable- he was going to get the Joker and bring him to the Batcave. He was rightfully panicking. Of course, it was his decision to make the deal, but that was besides the point.

The computer screen lit against his face as he turned. His eyes drifted across the named files and folders, all different case files of his greatest foes. He had read all of them countless times. One in particular he had reread again and again: The Joker's file. In the week since he and Gordon had met on the rooftop he had read every single word of every shred of information he had on Joker. He had even gone back to their first ever meeting. Not the one on the bridge or the blimp, but the one in the chemical plant. The one where Joker was made. He knew practically everything about Joker that there was to know but yet he still didn't know the most important thing. What made him? The acid bath, obviously, but how had he survived that? Bruce had read that string of chemicals thousands of times and never found anything different. What that mixture was was death.

Yet Joker lived. He lived, permanently scarred and transformed. But alive.

It didn't make sense, how had he lived? How had that chemical combination not killed him? Before that night at the plant he was a normal man. Normal in the way that all Gotham citizens were, that is, but normal nonetheless. He didn't have any powers, or meds, or a fancy suit that protected him. He was just a man. That's what Bruce was so fascinated by.

"I've brought some biscuits with your tea, sir." Alfred announced, his voice quietly echoing around the cave. "I thought you could use some nutrients."

"Thank you, Alfred," Bruce said as Alfred placed the small plate on the desk next to him.

The butler stood quietly, calmly watching Bruce for a second before his eyes turned to the computer. Following Bruce's stare he knew exactly which file he was fixated on. He didn't comment, instead keeping his thoughts on the matter to himself. The fact Bruce was so nervous confirmed that he didn't really think it through when he made the choice to bring *him* here. Alfred took a step back, "Good luck, sir."

Bruce nodded.

He didn't keep track of time after that. Just sat there, deep in thought. Occasionally he took a sip of his tea before going back to brooding and staring blankly forward. His mind ran back and forth, darting from idea to idea. Joker was, well, Joker- and that was enough to worry about. There was part of him that wondered if the clown was different when he wasn't full of adrenaline and fighting. He seemed different whenever he was in Arkham; he was calmer, still, nearly normal but just uncanny enough to make you sick. Bruce had gone to see him in Arkham before, both as Batman and Bruce Wayne. When he was Batman he was always direct and alone with Joker, and the clown acted the same as ever. However, when he was Bruce Wayne, it seemed like Joker was hiding. He was too calm. It was like he was waiting for Bruce to make the wrong move and get himself stuck into whatever cruel joke the clown prince of crime had planned.

He wondered now if Joker knew more than he let on, and if being brought to the cave would reveal that or play into his hand. There was no way for Joker to get out of the cell, Bruce had even taken it upon himself to test it first hand, but this was the Joker they were dealing with. Even locked in a cell the man could do more damage than anyone knew. Part of Bruce worried that he could do more damage locked up than he could free. Hell, when Joker was in a straight jacket in a padded cell he still managed to destroy this city!

It was with this that Bruce became acutely aware of how much danger this was. He was bringing the most feared criminal in all of Gotham into his home. He could find out who he really was, he could destroy his family or worse.

Yet, in the back of his mind, he felt some sort of need to keep Joker with him. To give the clown a second chance. To show that his life could be better. That need was what he acted on when he made the deal, but he just couldn't figure out why. It was only after Joker disappeared that he first noticed these thoughts and that night on the roof he was clouded by them. They certainly weren't rational thoughts, so why had he listened to them?

With all his foes he felt the need to fix them for lack of a better word, but never like this- he never wanted to personally help. With Joker he felt the need to. Why was Joker different?

Suddenly, a beeping rang out, dragging him out of his thoughts. It was the alarm that he had set earlier for when he needed to leave and meet Gordon. In his hours of brooding he must have forgotten. He shut the increasingly annoying sound off as he stood up, quickly walking to his suits and equipment to get ready. After suiting up and making sure everything was ready he made his way to the Batmobile, getting in and starting the engine. He checked all his mirrors and settings over again. With a soft click he flipped the switch and the wheels and cogs began turning, the floor beneath him twisting to face the vehicle towards the exit, the dark at the end of the cave awaiting him.

He hesitated, sighed, then stepped on the pedal and zoomed out of the cave.

Two armed guards stood on either side of the man, who was strapped to a tilt top table and seemingly unconscious. A few feet in front of them was commissioner Gordon. He smoked and stood silently waiting. The guards looked around, bored of the waiting and poorly attempting to mask the fear they had while standing so close to their tranquilized dropoff.

"Commissioner," Batman stated simply, announcing his presence as he stepped into the little light they had.

The two guards whipped around, aiming their guns in the general direction of the bat's voice. Gordon raised a hand to tell them to hold fire. He took a puff from his cigarette and walked closer to the masked man. "Glad you showed up," He waved his hand at the guards and they lowered their guns, "though part of me was hoping you'd change your mind."

Batman didn't respond. He turned his head over to the tilt top table and the man tied to it.

"Right," Gordon turned too, nodding his head at the two stunned guards. "wheel him over."

Both men nodded and took hold of the table on either side, kicking up the stand and leaning it back to bring it over to the commissioner and the mysterious vigilante. They glanced at each other and at Gordon before their eyes went back to Batman. It wasn't everyday you got to see the Dark Knight in person. Gordon rolled his eyes at them.

He turned back to Batman, "Everything's set up?"

"Yes," the bat replied, "I tested everything myself. There's no possible way he can escape."

Gordon gave a nod. "He wasn't in great shape when we found him. We cleaned him up but he's still pretty banged up."

At first Batman didn't believe that, but as he looked closer at Joker he knew what Gordan meant. He frowned. Stepping forward to see the details clearer, the light above him now. The angle didn't help him see better: the tilt top made Joker taller than him, and the clown's head leaned forward making his face swallowed by shadows. He moved his hand up to brush stray strands of messy green hair away from Joker's face, stopping as he traced the frame of the ghostly white face. The piercing acid green eyes that had engraved themselves in his mind unseen under softly closed lids, giving his face an almost peaceful look. That signature smile that he could never forget replaced with only a small frown, unpainted. At the corners of his mouth there were deep scars, scars that made a smile even while he didn't. Scars that traveled across and around his lips.

He had never seen Joker relaxed; the clown was constantly on edge, swift in his actions and ready to attack at any moment. He had never gotten the chance to really look at the clown prince of crime. Now he did, and even though the circumstances weren't great he couldn't stop himself from just staring. His features were soft, gentle in contrast to his personality.The sharpest features he had were the scars. He didn't look dangerous.

His eyes drifted down to Joker's surprisingly small hands, attached to thin wrists. Like his face his arms and hands were pale and had an almost shimmer to them. His knuckles were littered with scars, small scratch like scars lingered up his forearms and wrists. He turned over the thin hands again, delicate fingers hanging down into that bat's large palm. He folded his own gloved fingers over the boney hand; his hands enveloped Joker's.

Gordon cleared his throat, "The X-Rays we got showed he had a few broken ribs," He waited for Batman to look over before he held out a folder. "He had a nasty head injury, too, but it wasn't fatal."

Inside the folder was X-Rays, MRIs, Catscans, and other medical information. Along with that was a copy of the police report when they had found Joker and general info that Gordon took the time to add. All of Joker's wounds had been bandaged and cleaned at the hospital, then again before they strapped him down to the tilt top table.

"I included some old clues in other cases that seemed relevant," The commissioner said, watching Batman flip through the contents of the folder. "Though I'm sure you already have all that information."

Shutting the folder and looking over at the guards, Batman stated simply, "Undo the constraints."

Both men blinked and glanced at each other, eyes wide. They looked back at the masked man with a mixture of shock, confusion, and anxiety plastered on their faces. They didn't move until Gordon repeated what the vigilante had said. Not wanting to piss off the boss, they both rushed over, one stumbling over his feet and nearly falling. They tilted the table back and undid the closures then tossed the straps over the sides. They stood back and watched awkwardly as Batman moved over and lifted the limp body of the clown into his arms. His movements were fluent and swift, walking over to the edge of the roof and subsequently into the shadows.

"Good luck!" Gordon called out after the bat, but his voice only echoed back to him. Batman was gone. As mysterious as ever, and as concerning as ever too. His worries from before flooded back as he stared off into the shifting darkness. This was such a bad idea. He shook his head and sighed, turning around and walking back down the stairs.