5.

The shift of the car clicked into gear, the engine roaring as the headlights flicked on. The vehicle lurched forward out of the alley as dust and stray paper rustled behind it. Trash that had tumbled out of the overflowing bins jumped and spun, lids of trash cans clanked against the metal of their respective cans. As the car left the wind followed, everything beginning to settle slowly again.

Flying down the streets, the lights of the buildings they passed blurs of blacks and grays and yellows and blues. He glanced in the mirror he had installed. His eyes locked on the clown laying in his backseat. Laying there he seemed so small, so harmless. Yet, in reality, he was the exact opposite. He was the definition of danger. He spread fear through the city like a plague, bringing countless lives to their ends just because of some game in his mind. A game that no one else was playing. A game that he was convinced was what would bring Batman to him, a senseless game of violence and cruelty. A game that no one would ever truly win. No one really knew the workings of the clown's mind, only what he said his intentions were and what he wanted. All anyone ever knew was that he was playing this imaginary game with himself.

But what if he was right? What if this game was real, and Batman was a pawn in it? What if Joker wasn't just being crazy and actually was on to something? Was that how he won? Did he have it all planned out?

What if he knew everything?

No. He couldn't have known anything- he didn't know anything. Joker was just a man. A man with something wrong with him, some problem in his brain. Joker was just insane. Nothing he said meant anything because he didn't live in the same world as everyone else. He was just a basket case criminal, like every other villain in this town.

Bruce sighed, shaking his head and closing his eyes for a second or two. He looked back to the road. They were getting closer to the cave. Around now was when they needed to detour off the main roads and get onto the back roads, the ones off in the countryside of the city where no one really went. From there they needed to go even further into the country to get to the path to the cave, which was behind the waterfall that fell from the cliff that Wayne Manor stood upon. He knew this route like the back of his hand. He traveled it probably every day. This side of the city was something he loved, seeing the rural land that hadn't been touched by the grime that covered the rest of Gotham. Trees and plants thriving, leaves turning and falling in the wind. Nature bustled here. It was beautiful. Peaceful. Out here he didn't need to worry about what hell would come next and destroy his city, he didn't need to constantly be on guard. He didn't need a disguise or a secret identity. Out here, he didn't need to be Batman. He didn't need to be the savior.

He let up off the gas as he came to a clearing. At the other side of the clearing was the waterfall entrance, below it rockets reached up into a ramp. He shifted into reverse, straightened out and backed up, shifted into drive again, and pressed down on the gas. The wheels skid for a moment before the car lurched forward and sped through the water into the caves. Tunnels surrounded on all sides, rocks and stalactites rumbling as the Batmobile passed. The echo of the engine rolled out as he entered the main cave. Gears turned, metal clicked, and the car stopped. Bats screeched out and flapped about, welcoming them home.

Bruce sat there quietly. His eyes locked to the mirror. Joker was still asleep, he hadn't stirred the entire drive and he didn't look like he would. The man was out cold- his breathing shallow and soft, chest slowly rising then falling. His pale skin and bright orange jumpsuit contrasted to the darkness around him. His green hair had faded significantly since the last time he had seen him, loose strands of gray hair littered about.

Closing his eyes, Bruce sighed again- taking a deep breath in and out. He opened his eyes and got out of the car. Upon closing the door he heard Alfred call out to him.

"You're back, I see," Alfred greeted. "and, I assume, with our new 'friend'?"

Bruce nodded. He knew Alfred was referring to Joker, who laid peacefully in the backseat of the Batmobile.

Alfred walked over, "Need any assistance?"

"No," Bruce stated, "he's pretty light. If you could get the door, though, that'd be appreciated."

The butler nodded and briskly made his way to the cell. He entered the codes, undid the locks, and opened the door as Bruce lifted the clown up and walked over. Alfred's eyes darted to the thin man- he had seen Joker plenty of times on screens and in pictures, but he had almost never been this close to him. It was unnerving to say the least.

The pale figure was placed carefully on the cot and blankets were tossed over him. Alfred stood at the door and watched as the bat took caution in fixing the blankets and brushing Joker's hair out of his face, his movements softer than usual. He stopped and stared at the clown for a long moment. In this light he looked thinner than he did before, weaker. Smaller. He looked fragile. His scars were more noticeable; divots in his lips where the blade had begun to cut, faded pinkish skin scratched into an uneven smile from the corners of his mouth. Other little scarred marks on his face that Bruce had never seemed to see stood out now. There was a very distinct scar across his throat, surrounded by other thin slashes too. Along with scars, he could see other details of the Joker's skin that he hadn't in the past. Itty-bitty freckles and beauty marks naturally painted onto the snow white flesh.

He wondered how he had never noticed these things before. How he had never seen the natural parts of Joker's strikingly unnatural appearance. How had he not seen these little details?

More importantly: why was he so fascinated with them?

"Ahem," Alfred cleared his throat, signaling for Bruce to snap out of it. "Master Bruce, I believe it is time to prepare the medical part of this?"

"Right," Bruce said and turned away from Joker. He left the cell and walked over to the medical station in the cave, Alfred following shortly after. Alfred had been kind enough to scrounge up the meds he had asked for, or whatever they had in the cave that would be a working substitute. If they didn't have anything that would work then Alfred placed an order for it. When Bruce had asked about the suspicion of ordering painkillers, Alfred said he ordered it under the guise of it being for Wayne Hospital, which seemed plausible so the subject was dropped.

As he was preparing the supplies he noticed some of the meds he asked for weren't there. He asked, "What about the rest of them?"

"Ah, the shipping was delayed. Those have yet to arrive." Alfred replied. He filled medical bags with the various liquids in preparation for days to come.

"Oh, okay," Bruce said and shook his head. "When they arrive please tell me."

Alfred nodded, "Yes, Master Bruce. They should be here in a day or two."

Bruce looked over the butler's shoulder, curiously watching his process. He was always so meticulous with everything, it was interesting to see him work. Alfred was much better with this kind of thing than he was. As the Wayne family's servant, it was part of his job to be good with medication.

Alfred glanced at the bat, "Aren't you supposed to be getting the cleaning solution and gauze ready, sir?"

"Oh, yeah," Bruce said, quickly turning away to get back to what he was originally doing.

Alfred only chuckled and shook his head.

They continued to work in silence for a minute or two more then gathered up everything onto a cart. Alfred pushed the cart into the cell as Bruce followed, carrying a stool. All the monitors had already been set up and plugged in, now Joker just needed to be hooked up. Alfred put a cuff around a pale arm and pressed a few buttons on the machine, which made a high pitched beep and lit up, then Alfred brought over the cart full of medical bags and tools. He hooked the first bags on the hanger and plugged them into the machine.

Bruce stationed himself next to Joker's bed, taking gauze and peroxide and cleaning up some of the unbandaged scrapes and cuts. He cleaned the little scuffs with small alcohol pads. He undid the old bandages, pausing for a moment each time as he uncovered a new deep red gash in the clown's flesh, before beginning to carefully sanitize the wound and skin. He put new bandages on swiftly. This continued until he reached the nasty head injury Gordon had mentioned before: it was a messy red wound that he couldn't quite make out beneath the blood, but he could tell it was deep. In the report it was presumed from blunt force trauma and that seemed to line up from what Batman could tell. After a moment he shook his head, having realized how long he was staring, and began to wipe away the blood. Adding extra gauze to hopefully absorb any blood that seeped out, he bandaged the wound back up.

Alfred had noticed Bruce's staring but chose not to comment, instead focusing on the IVs he was installing. He screwed in the tubes of the bags and stepped back. He took his medical gloves off and went back to the cart, "All the equipment is on and ready, I've made sure that we have more IV bags ready too."

"Okay," Bruce responded, not looking at Alfred. "I'll be up in a minute."

Alfred nodded and left.

The bat drifted his eyes over Joker's form. All the bandages that hid wounds, the tubes hooked into him, his thin frame. He did his best to remain composed during everything; he pushed his confusing concern away. He had seen Joker hurt. Joker had bled in front of him. Joker had even been hurt and bled because of him. But now, seeing him so beaten and small, having the clown in his care, there was something about it that made him feel off. Joker seeming so soft made him feel off. Everything about this was just off, really.

He felt something in his chest, a weird tightening that spread a bubbling heat through his ribs. Shaking his head and looking away from Joker, trying to stop the feeling. Bruce sighed and got up. His shoes barely made a sound as he walked out of the room and up the stairs out of the cave.