Part One | Part Two| Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten | Part Eleven | Part Twelve|
Part Thirteen | Part Fourteen | Part Fifteen
Part Thirteen | Part Fourteen | Part Fifteen
Bruce stood in Gordon's shower, letting the water run over him. Gordon had left a bar of soap and nothing else in there for him. If Bruce didn't know any better, he would have thought Gordon was hiding everything else, like razors, so that Bruce couldn't hurt himself. Bruce might not have been completely stable, but he wasn't suicidal. He lathered the soap and rinsed, stepping out of the tub and wrapped the towel around his waist. A part of him wished Gordon had been standing at the door waiting. Bruce would have let Gordon take him, take what he wanted of him. Maybe it would have made Bruce feel human and whole again, instead of empty and crippled.
He didn't bother to dry his hair or the rest of himself. He walked down the hall towards the kitchen, catching sight of Gordon already dressed in a clean suit, hustling around the kitchen quickly, grabbing toast from the toaster, and quickly pouring a cup of coffee while trying to scramble for his briefcase. Bruce stared at the rather frazzled man in confusion. And just where did Jim Gordon think he was going?
Gordon glanced at his watch, looking up for the first time to notice Bruce watching him. Gordon's eyes looked Bruce up and down, taking in the half-naked form in front of him. He then shook head and blinked, looking away. Bruce crossed his arms over his chest in annoyance. He wasn't going to ask for an answer, he deserved one.
“I, uh... I have to get going. Garcia called and there is this huge court case and they need a representative from Major Crimes. Unfortunately I'm the only one 'available'. You can stay here, or I can drop you off at the penthouse...” Gordon started to trail off as he saw the look in Bruce's eyes. Bruce was had gone from feeling irritated to feeling all around abandoned. He couldn't even trust himself to be alone, and yet Gordon just wanted to dump him off somewhere by himself for who knew how long?
“Let me get dressed,” Bruce said quietly, turning his back to Gordon and making his way back towards the bedroom to find his clothes. He heard Gordon swear and say something unfathomable under his breath. Bruce threw his t-shirt on, pulled on his jeans and slipped his tennis shoes on, walking quickly back into the kitchen. Gordon had put down his briefcase and coffee mug.
“Bruce, I am so sorry. It's very last minute and if I don't go the Joker will be set free all together. I have to be there.” Gordon placed his palms down on his briefcase, and sighed.
“Joker?” Bruce asked, confused. What did the Joker have to do with this case?
“It's a hearing. He's been starting some trouble in Blackgate, and the DA thinks it would be best if he was brought back to Arkham instead. If all else fails, he might even be out on bail until they can decide what to do with him,” Gordon explained. He picked up his keys off the table, taking his briefcase in hand. He motioned to the door. “You staying here or am I dropping you off?”
“You can drop me at Wayne Enterprises. It's on your way.”
----
Gordon felt worse than he had in along time, but he figured that leaving Wayne in the care of security at Wayne Enterprises wouldn't be so bad. Wayne said he was going to lock himself in his office and go over some paperwork he needed to get done for Lucius Fox. At least he was being positive on the situation, Gordon thought. He didn't trust Wayne for more than a few hours by himself though. If the man couldn't go twenty minutes by himself at MCU, how was he going to survive hours locked in his office?
At least no one would bother Wayne there, and maybe that would be the key to keeping himself grounded and in control. Gordon hoped. He slammed his car door shut, hitting the lock button, taking up a quick jog as he walked up the courthouse steps,. He was already a few minutes late. He flashed his badge at the security woman at the front of the courtroom, and she let him pass. Gordon made his way to next to the District Attorney, taking a seat next to him. Derrick Sanders looked at Gordon as he sat down.
“Glad you made it,” Sanders said, sliding a few papers towards Gordon. A list of incidents and accidents in Blackgate and how it was costing more to keep the Joker there then it was Arkham. Gordon sighed.
“We can't let the Joker walk free,” Gordon replied bitterly. He wanted to say that it cost more for the Joker to be sedated in Arkham than the medical bills in Blackgate, but relatively... they were about the same.
“Oh, he won't. Now that you're here that isn't going to happen at all.” Sanders patted Gordon on the back, standing as the bailiff called the courtroom to rise. Gordon followed suit, watching as three guards brought a cuffed man into the room. It took Gordon several minutes to realize that the prisoner was the Joker. He had light brown hair, wasn't allowed his make-up and the scarring around his mouth was less visible without the caked on grease paint. He was wearing one of those ugly orange jumpsuits that all Blackgate prisoners were issued to wear.
Sanders was called to talk to the Judge alone. Gordon sat patiently watching the rest of the room, mostly the Joker. He didn't trust that man for anything; cuffed or not. The Joker, who had been looking at the judge the whole time so far, was now looking at Gordon with those light green eyes that made Gordon's skin crawl. The Joker smirked at him, keeping his gaze on Gordon, unblinking. It's a game to him, Gordon thought, one sick game.
Then the Joker smiled, a Cheshire cat-like grin, spreading his lips wide and flashing his yellowed, rotting teeth at Gordon. A security guard next to him caught the act and stood in front of the Joker so he couldn't see Gordon. It was a little late for that, Gordon would remember the look for a long time, and it wasn't one he wanted.
He silently wished that the Joker would stay in Blackgate. But that was just a weary wish that he knew would never be. As Sanders continued to fight the cause of the Joker going back to Arkham, Gordon knew he would lose this battle, no matter what he said on the matter. He could fight it and argue, but the reality was that Sanders had a solid case and Gordon had nothing.
Towards the end, some three hours later and uproars from the courtroom, the Joker was sentenced back to Arkham Asylum. Gordon stood by the door as the Joker was walked out of the courtroom, and as the mad man left he snickered at Gordon.
“Home again, home again,” the Joker said in a sing-song voice. “Jiggity-Jig.” His lips spread again into one of those rotten teeth grins, and the man began to laugh maddeningly, the guards having to practically carry him the rest of the way to the transport. Gordon had had to hold his own anger back, keeping his fists firmly at his side.
Wayne was not going to like this at all.
Gordon reached for his cell phone in his pocket, thinking that it would be better to let Wayne know as soon as possible, rather than him find out from the media in some form or fashion. His phone rang, signaling at the same time that he was low on battery. Great. He hit the receive button.
“Gordon,” he answered, cradling the phone between his neck and ear, searching his pockets for his keys. He hoped the charged fro the phone was in his car.
“Jim, I need you to follow the transport with the Joker to Arkham and make sure he gets checked in without any problems. We've had trouble in the past and you're really the only one I trust with this.” It was Garcia, again. Gordon rolled his eyes at the accusation, knowing full well anyone of his detectives could do this. But, Gordon needed to be on Garcia's good side.
“I, uh...” Gordon finally found his keys and started for the entrance, holding the phone in his free hand now. “Sure, I'm already headed to my car anyway.” Gordon hit the end button before Garcia could ask for any other favors. He walked to his car and sliding into the driver's seat, checking the glove compartment, under the seat, everywhere for the charger. No where. He must have left it at home. He glanced at his phone, the little battery bar had started to blink at him. He started up the car and found Wayne's cell phone number and hit send.
The other end began to ring and just at the second ring the phone died completely. “Damnit!” Gordon cursed throwing the phone down on the passenger seat as he fell in line behind the SWAT transport for the Joker. Hopefully he'd have a minute when he got to Arkham to quickly call Wayne and at least check up on him. He had a bad feeling that three hours alone was going to drive the younger man a little crazy.
----
Detective Gerard Stephens received a phone call from Mayor Anthony Garcia asking him to meet him at City Hall as soon as he possibly could. So, on his way back to Major Crimes, Stephens stopped by the mayor's office. He stood in front of Garcia, who was finishing a phone call to his wife. He placed the phone down and looked at Stephen's pointedly.
“I have a favor to ask of you, Detective,” Garcia said as he pushed away from his desk, standing. He moved towards the window that over looked the downtown Gotham. “You are aware of Jim Gordon's involvement with Bruce Wayne, aren't you?”
“Involvement, sir?” Stephens asked, curiously. He knew that Gordon was helping Wayne after what happened nearly a week ago, but other then that, there wasn't much anyone knew.
“His wanting to help Wayne, protect him. I think there is more there than any of us are seeing and its getting in the way of Gordon's judgment for what needs to happen in Gotham.” Garcia turned his back to the window and looked at Stephens knowingly.
“What are you suggesting?” Stephens asked, almost afraid to know, but he knew what the mayor was talking about and it was true; Gordon hadn't been quite with it since Wayne's masquerade ball. Gordon had let his obsession with helping Wayne consume his time, even when it came to getting work done. Wayne being Batman or not, Gotham was under control right now and Wayne really wasn't helping.
“I've already planned out a few events for Gordon to take care of. I understand that Wayne has some sort of control over his 'outbursts' when Gordon is around, so I'm dealing with that. What I need from you is to deliver a message to Wayne so we can lure him out. If Gordon needs to be around Wayne for him to stay 'sane', then he is obviously not stable enough to be out in society,” Garcia explained. He reached over to his desk and pulled an envelope from it, handing it to the detective. “These are step-by-step instructions that you need to follow to the T for this to work.”
Stephens nodded, taking the envelope. He felt a twist in his stomach, as if this wasn't really the right thing to do, but his conscience was telling him that Gotham needed Jim Gordon back to par and not waiting hand-and-foot on some pretty boy, billionaire, vigilante. Stephens nodded one more time before walking out of the office.
-----
Bruce sat at his desk for the fourth straight hour in a row. He had finished the paperwork, signed off the documents, filed everything neatly on his desk and even address envelopes, just to keep busy. He was out of things to do and Lucius had called minutes before offering to come keep Bruce company, but the billionaire refused, knowing full well that any human contact would probably just make the that voice sitting at the edge of his brain grow louder.
It was bad enough it had been taunting him all afternoon, whispering things he couldn't quite understand beneath the sound of his thoughts reading through paperwork, but it was there nonetheless. Bruce wasn't really sure how long he could hold back. He looked at his cell phone laying on his desk, wishing he had at least a text or something from Gordon – anything to keep him going just that much longer until the commissioner returned.
Oh, you don't need him, Bruce. He's just delaying the inevitable. Why not just give up now and pursue the course you're meant to be on right now? Bruce narrowed his eyes at the phone. He'd just call Gordon. There was no way he was still in court, not this long. Not unless something went wrong. Bruce picked up the phone and dialed Gordon's number.
It rang once. And again. Again. Then went to voice-mail. Bruce ended the call and slammed the phone down on table, folding his hands together, placing his chin against them. He could handle this, he could. He was so eager though, to know what happened with the Joker. Joker, Bruce thought. He wanted to growl the name, rip it apart and bury it a thousand feet below surface. That man was the bane of his existence, the one thing kept Bruce constantly questioning the people of Gotham. Bruce used to have hope for Gotham, but since the Joker appeared, he slowly started to lose that hope.
More so in himself. You aren't any better than the Joker, Bruce. You are exactly what he wanted you to become. There was a buzzing on his intercom from his secretary. “Yes?” Bruce asked as he pushed the button to answer her.
“Mister Wayne, there is a Detective Stephens here to see you I know you asked to be left alone, but he says its urgent.” Sally said quickly, trying to express to Bruce that Stephens was probably not taking 'no' for an answer.
“Send him up,” Bruce said casually. He new Stephens was Gordon's right hand man, and if Gordon was busy he might have sent Stephens to quickly deliver a message. Bruce hoped it was quick, he didn't want trouble and he didn't want voices, and he didn't want to talk any longer than he had to.
“Yes, sir.” The line went blank and a few minutes later Stephens was at Bruce's door. Bruce motioned him inside and gestured to a chair.
“Make it quick,” Bruce said, trying to find the best humble voice he could. Stephens shook his head, keeping his place at the office door. He must be afraid of you, Bruce. He looks ready to run at any moment.
“Jim asked me to come by and let you know how the hearing went. It's also the reason he isn't here,” Stephens swallowed, his eyes searching the floor instead of looking at Bruce, which made the back of the younger man's neck crawl. “See, the, uh, Joker... he escaped the courtroom and there is all out manhunt for him. Jim's leading it and couldn't take the time to call or get here to tell you. He's really sorry, honest.”
Bruce's hands tightened into fists, the veins in his arms popping out from his skin as he felt an anger in him being to well up. He wasn't angry at Gordon or Stephens, but he was angry at the fact that the Joker had escaped. Hadn't he told everyone that Blackgate was where that man needed to be? Bringing him out even one day was setting the city up for disaster. Bruce closed his eyes, trying to calm the rage. He didn't want to take this out on Stephens.
“Anything else?” Bruce asked impatiently.
“No. I'll just be.. going,” Stephens replied. Bruce heard feet shuffling and then the door close quietly. He opened his eyes, once again alone in his office with nothing but his thoughts to collect.
You know what needs to be done, Bruce. You know it has to be done. The Joker can't get away with it this time.
“But I'll go to prison or Arkham,” Bruce said out loud, unaware he was responded to his own vicious thoughts.
It would all be worth it though. To finally see a means to an end. To watch as the Joker's eyes lost all life with his blood on your hands. You can finally do what had been needed to be done for years.
“I don't...” Bruce started to say, suddenly trying to catch his breath, as if someone were pushing a brick to his chest. He held a hand his to chest. “I don't want to kill anyone. Not even the Joker.”
Yes, you do. He killed Rachel. He corrupted Harvey Dent. He's just another Joe Chill, but worse. You can finally avenge your parents and Rachel. You can have it all.
Bruce wasn't sure which voice was which any more, they were all sounding the same again. He knew it was wrong to want to kill the Joker, but at the same time it was felt like the perfect thing to end his onslaught of insanity. Kill the Joker and spend the rest of your days knowing he will no longer rule a menacing hand over Gotham.
Yes. That was exactly what Bruce wanted. The consequences? They really didn't matter right then. Not one bit.
He didn't bother to dry his hair or the rest of himself. He walked down the hall towards the kitchen, catching sight of Gordon already dressed in a clean suit, hustling around the kitchen quickly, grabbing toast from the toaster, and quickly pouring a cup of coffee while trying to scramble for his briefcase. Bruce stared at the rather frazzled man in confusion. And just where did Jim Gordon think he was going?
Gordon glanced at his watch, looking up for the first time to notice Bruce watching him. Gordon's eyes looked Bruce up and down, taking in the half-naked form in front of him. He then shook head and blinked, looking away. Bruce crossed his arms over his chest in annoyance. He wasn't going to ask for an answer, he deserved one.
“I, uh... I have to get going. Garcia called and there is this huge court case and they need a representative from Major Crimes. Unfortunately I'm the only one 'available'. You can stay here, or I can drop you off at the penthouse...” Gordon started to trail off as he saw the look in Bruce's eyes. Bruce was had gone from feeling irritated to feeling all around abandoned. He couldn't even trust himself to be alone, and yet Gordon just wanted to dump him off somewhere by himself for who knew how long?
“Let me get dressed,” Bruce said quietly, turning his back to Gordon and making his way back towards the bedroom to find his clothes. He heard Gordon swear and say something unfathomable under his breath. Bruce threw his t-shirt on, pulled on his jeans and slipped his tennis shoes on, walking quickly back into the kitchen. Gordon had put down his briefcase and coffee mug.
“Bruce, I am so sorry. It's very last minute and if I don't go the Joker will be set free all together. I have to be there.” Gordon placed his palms down on his briefcase, and sighed.
“Joker?” Bruce asked, confused. What did the Joker have to do with this case?
“It's a hearing. He's been starting some trouble in Blackgate, and the DA thinks it would be best if he was brought back to Arkham instead. If all else fails, he might even be out on bail until they can decide what to do with him,” Gordon explained. He picked up his keys off the table, taking his briefcase in hand. He motioned to the door. “You staying here or am I dropping you off?”
“You can drop me at Wayne Enterprises. It's on your way.”
----
Gordon felt worse than he had in along time, but he figured that leaving Wayne in the care of security at Wayne Enterprises wouldn't be so bad. Wayne said he was going to lock himself in his office and go over some paperwork he needed to get done for Lucius Fox. At least he was being positive on the situation, Gordon thought. He didn't trust Wayne for more than a few hours by himself though. If the man couldn't go twenty minutes by himself at MCU, how was he going to survive hours locked in his office?
At least no one would bother Wayne there, and maybe that would be the key to keeping himself grounded and in control. Gordon hoped. He slammed his car door shut, hitting the lock button, taking up a quick jog as he walked up the courthouse steps,. He was already a few minutes late. He flashed his badge at the security woman at the front of the courtroom, and she let him pass. Gordon made his way to next to the District Attorney, taking a seat next to him. Derrick Sanders looked at Gordon as he sat down.
“Glad you made it,” Sanders said, sliding a few papers towards Gordon. A list of incidents and accidents in Blackgate and how it was costing more to keep the Joker there then it was Arkham. Gordon sighed.
“We can't let the Joker walk free,” Gordon replied bitterly. He wanted to say that it cost more for the Joker to be sedated in Arkham than the medical bills in Blackgate, but relatively... they were about the same.
“Oh, he won't. Now that you're here that isn't going to happen at all.” Sanders patted Gordon on the back, standing as the bailiff called the courtroom to rise. Gordon followed suit, watching as three guards brought a cuffed man into the room. It took Gordon several minutes to realize that the prisoner was the Joker. He had light brown hair, wasn't allowed his make-up and the scarring around his mouth was less visible without the caked on grease paint. He was wearing one of those ugly orange jumpsuits that all Blackgate prisoners were issued to wear.
Sanders was called to talk to the Judge alone. Gordon sat patiently watching the rest of the room, mostly the Joker. He didn't trust that man for anything; cuffed or not. The Joker, who had been looking at the judge the whole time so far, was now looking at Gordon with those light green eyes that made Gordon's skin crawl. The Joker smirked at him, keeping his gaze on Gordon, unblinking. It's a game to him, Gordon thought, one sick game.
Then the Joker smiled, a Cheshire cat-like grin, spreading his lips wide and flashing his yellowed, rotting teeth at Gordon. A security guard next to him caught the act and stood in front of the Joker so he couldn't see Gordon. It was a little late for that, Gordon would remember the look for a long time, and it wasn't one he wanted.
He silently wished that the Joker would stay in Blackgate. But that was just a weary wish that he knew would never be. As Sanders continued to fight the cause of the Joker going back to Arkham, Gordon knew he would lose this battle, no matter what he said on the matter. He could fight it and argue, but the reality was that Sanders had a solid case and Gordon had nothing.
Towards the end, some three hours later and uproars from the courtroom, the Joker was sentenced back to Arkham Asylum. Gordon stood by the door as the Joker was walked out of the courtroom, and as the mad man left he snickered at Gordon.
“Home again, home again,” the Joker said in a sing-song voice. “Jiggity-Jig.” His lips spread again into one of those rotten teeth grins, and the man began to laugh maddeningly, the guards having to practically carry him the rest of the way to the transport. Gordon had had to hold his own anger back, keeping his fists firmly at his side.
Wayne was not going to like this at all.
Gordon reached for his cell phone in his pocket, thinking that it would be better to let Wayne know as soon as possible, rather than him find out from the media in some form or fashion. His phone rang, signaling at the same time that he was low on battery. Great. He hit the receive button.
“Gordon,” he answered, cradling the phone between his neck and ear, searching his pockets for his keys. He hoped the charged fro the phone was in his car.
“Jim, I need you to follow the transport with the Joker to Arkham and make sure he gets checked in without any problems. We've had trouble in the past and you're really the only one I trust with this.” It was Garcia, again. Gordon rolled his eyes at the accusation, knowing full well anyone of his detectives could do this. But, Gordon needed to be on Garcia's good side.
“I, uh...” Gordon finally found his keys and started for the entrance, holding the phone in his free hand now. “Sure, I'm already headed to my car anyway.” Gordon hit the end button before Garcia could ask for any other favors. He walked to his car and sliding into the driver's seat, checking the glove compartment, under the seat, everywhere for the charger. No where. He must have left it at home. He glanced at his phone, the little battery bar had started to blink at him. He started up the car and found Wayne's cell phone number and hit send.
The other end began to ring and just at the second ring the phone died completely. “Damnit!” Gordon cursed throwing the phone down on the passenger seat as he fell in line behind the SWAT transport for the Joker. Hopefully he'd have a minute when he got to Arkham to quickly call Wayne and at least check up on him. He had a bad feeling that three hours alone was going to drive the younger man a little crazy.
----
Detective Gerard Stephens received a phone call from Mayor Anthony Garcia asking him to meet him at City Hall as soon as he possibly could. So, on his way back to Major Crimes, Stephens stopped by the mayor's office. He stood in front of Garcia, who was finishing a phone call to his wife. He placed the phone down and looked at Stephen's pointedly.
“I have a favor to ask of you, Detective,” Garcia said as he pushed away from his desk, standing. He moved towards the window that over looked the downtown Gotham. “You are aware of Jim Gordon's involvement with Bruce Wayne, aren't you?”
“Involvement, sir?” Stephens asked, curiously. He knew that Gordon was helping Wayne after what happened nearly a week ago, but other then that, there wasn't much anyone knew.
“His wanting to help Wayne, protect him. I think there is more there than any of us are seeing and its getting in the way of Gordon's judgment for what needs to happen in Gotham.” Garcia turned his back to the window and looked at Stephens knowingly.
“What are you suggesting?” Stephens asked, almost afraid to know, but he knew what the mayor was talking about and it was true; Gordon hadn't been quite with it since Wayne's masquerade ball. Gordon had let his obsession with helping Wayne consume his time, even when it came to getting work done. Wayne being Batman or not, Gotham was under control right now and Wayne really wasn't helping.
“I've already planned out a few events for Gordon to take care of. I understand that Wayne has some sort of control over his 'outbursts' when Gordon is around, so I'm dealing with that. What I need from you is to deliver a message to Wayne so we can lure him out. If Gordon needs to be around Wayne for him to stay 'sane', then he is obviously not stable enough to be out in society,” Garcia explained. He reached over to his desk and pulled an envelope from it, handing it to the detective. “These are step-by-step instructions that you need to follow to the T for this to work.”
Stephens nodded, taking the envelope. He felt a twist in his stomach, as if this wasn't really the right thing to do, but his conscience was telling him that Gotham needed Jim Gordon back to par and not waiting hand-and-foot on some pretty boy, billionaire, vigilante. Stephens nodded one more time before walking out of the office.
-----
Bruce sat at his desk for the fourth straight hour in a row. He had finished the paperwork, signed off the documents, filed everything neatly on his desk and even address envelopes, just to keep busy. He was out of things to do and Lucius had called minutes before offering to come keep Bruce company, but the billionaire refused, knowing full well that any human contact would probably just make the that voice sitting at the edge of his brain grow louder.
It was bad enough it had been taunting him all afternoon, whispering things he couldn't quite understand beneath the sound of his thoughts reading through paperwork, but it was there nonetheless. Bruce wasn't really sure how long he could hold back. He looked at his cell phone laying on his desk, wishing he had at least a text or something from Gordon – anything to keep him going just that much longer until the commissioner returned.
Oh, you don't need him, Bruce. He's just delaying the inevitable. Why not just give up now and pursue the course you're meant to be on right now? Bruce narrowed his eyes at the phone. He'd just call Gordon. There was no way he was still in court, not this long. Not unless something went wrong. Bruce picked up the phone and dialed Gordon's number.
It rang once. And again. Again. Then went to voice-mail. Bruce ended the call and slammed the phone down on table, folding his hands together, placing his chin against them. He could handle this, he could. He was so eager though, to know what happened with the Joker. Joker, Bruce thought. He wanted to growl the name, rip it apart and bury it a thousand feet below surface. That man was the bane of his existence, the one thing kept Bruce constantly questioning the people of Gotham. Bruce used to have hope for Gotham, but since the Joker appeared, he slowly started to lose that hope.
More so in himself. You aren't any better than the Joker, Bruce. You are exactly what he wanted you to become. There was a buzzing on his intercom from his secretary. “Yes?” Bruce asked as he pushed the button to answer her.
“Mister Wayne, there is a Detective Stephens here to see you I know you asked to be left alone, but he says its urgent.” Sally said quickly, trying to express to Bruce that Stephens was probably not taking 'no' for an answer.
“Send him up,” Bruce said casually. He new Stephens was Gordon's right hand man, and if Gordon was busy he might have sent Stephens to quickly deliver a message. Bruce hoped it was quick, he didn't want trouble and he didn't want voices, and he didn't want to talk any longer than he had to.
“Yes, sir.” The line went blank and a few minutes later Stephens was at Bruce's door. Bruce motioned him inside and gestured to a chair.
“Make it quick,” Bruce said, trying to find the best humble voice he could. Stephens shook his head, keeping his place at the office door. He must be afraid of you, Bruce. He looks ready to run at any moment.
“Jim asked me to come by and let you know how the hearing went. It's also the reason he isn't here,” Stephens swallowed, his eyes searching the floor instead of looking at Bruce, which made the back of the younger man's neck crawl. “See, the, uh, Joker... he escaped the courtroom and there is all out manhunt for him. Jim's leading it and couldn't take the time to call or get here to tell you. He's really sorry, honest.”
Bruce's hands tightened into fists, the veins in his arms popping out from his skin as he felt an anger in him being to well up. He wasn't angry at Gordon or Stephens, but he was angry at the fact that the Joker had escaped. Hadn't he told everyone that Blackgate was where that man needed to be? Bringing him out even one day was setting the city up for disaster. Bruce closed his eyes, trying to calm the rage. He didn't want to take this out on Stephens.
“Anything else?” Bruce asked impatiently.
“No. I'll just be.. going,” Stephens replied. Bruce heard feet shuffling and then the door close quietly. He opened his eyes, once again alone in his office with nothing but his thoughts to collect.
You know what needs to be done, Bruce. You know it has to be done. The Joker can't get away with it this time.
“But I'll go to prison or Arkham,” Bruce said out loud, unaware he was responded to his own vicious thoughts.
It would all be worth it though. To finally see a means to an end. To watch as the Joker's eyes lost all life with his blood on your hands. You can finally do what had been needed to be done for years.
“I don't...” Bruce started to say, suddenly trying to catch his breath, as if someone were pushing a brick to his chest. He held a hand his to chest. “I don't want to kill anyone. Not even the Joker.”
Yes, you do. He killed Rachel. He corrupted Harvey Dent. He's just another Joe Chill, but worse. You can finally avenge your parents and Rachel. You can have it all.
Bruce wasn't sure which voice was which any more, they were all sounding the same again. He knew it was wrong to want to kill the Joker, but at the same time it was felt like the perfect thing to end his onslaught of insanity. Kill the Joker and spend the rest of your days knowing he will no longer rule a menacing hand over Gotham.
Yes. That was exactly what Bruce wanted. The consequences? They really didn't matter right then. Not one bit.