Comic Relief

1.

Sitting in his office, his eyes locked to the rain droplets that beat against the window, he seemed lost in his thoughts.

It had been almost four years since he had escaped and gone into hiding. Almost four years since Bruce had seen him. It wasn't unusual for Joker to do something like this - the clown often laid low for a bit after he disappeared from Arkham - but it was unusual for the break to be this long. Joker was an impatient type of person, the kind to act without thinking. So for him to be gone this long was a little concerning to say the least.

The clown was constantly on Bruce's mind, he couldn't help but wonder what had happened. Or what was going to happen. Joker had to be planning something, right? Why else would he not have reappeared yet? That was the only explanation that made sense, and that's what Bruce had convinced himself.

So it was a waiting game. The one that was played every single time Joker escaped and went into hiding; waiting for however long it might take for him to leave a clue. Waiting and trying to ignore the endless thoughts of the clown in the back of his mind.

"Master Bruce," Alfred addressed, standing calmly in the doorway with his usual collected and professional expression. "it is late, you should get some well needed rest. Don't forget you have that very important business meeting tomorrow."

"Yes, Alfred," Bruce sighed, his eyes not moving from the still falling rain. "I know."

They were both quiet then, Alfred waiting for Bruce to say more and Bruce too lost in his own thoughts to notice. The only sound that echoed through the room was from the rain beating on the windows. The air seemed dense.

"Him again, sir?"

"Hm?"

"The Joker." Alfred repeated, "Him again?"

Bruce turned to face the old butler, brows furrowed. "What do you mean 'again'?"

"I've known you since you were just a boy, Master Bruce. Don't think I can't read you." Alfred took a few steps forward, stopping next to Bruce. His eyes met the window and the pattern of droplets painting it.

Bruce didn't reply. He sat quietly, his eyes shifting away from Alfred. He couldn't deny that. As mysterious and secretive Bruce was, Alfred had watched him grow, he had raised him. Alfred did know him better than anyone.

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you were worried about him." Alfred said.

Bruce corrected, "I'm not worried about him, I'm worried about what he can do. He's very dangerous, Alfred, you know that."

Without looking away from the window Alfred spoke, "Indeed, sir."

There was quiet for a moment longer before Alfred gave his usual speech about how Bruce needed rest and then said his goodnights, leaving Bruce alone once again with his thoughts. Thoughts of what-ifs and whens. Those thoughts shifted to memories and relivings of the past; all their fights, all his plans, all the places. All the history that this city held. All his history.

This city was his home, it had been for his entire life. This city made him who he was. As horrid as this city was - littered with crime, death, and sorrow - he loved it and its occupants. Gotham was his legacy, he would protect its people. He would bring hope.

Suddenly, eyes still cast to the window, a light beamed into the night sky. The Bat symbol. Without hesitation, Bruce stood and turned to the door. Exiting his office and heading to the library where the lever in the grandfather clock was stationed. He opened the face of the clock, setting the hands to the code time - 10:47 - and with a harsh click the clock shifted out of place. Carefully, he slipped past into the narrow entrance behind the clock and pulled the opening close behind him.

He quickly traveled down the stairs into the Batcave, making his way across the room to the glass case that held his suit. The case opened with a pop and he began to suit up. The cool air of the cave brushed against his skin, the gentle drip drop of water hitting the floor echoing about. With the final fastening of his utility belt his normal rich playboy get-up was replaced with the image of the masked vigilante. The engine of the Batmobile rumbled to life and the car zoomed out of the cave.

The streets of the city were like a blur as he sped past the buildings closer to the location of the signal. Lights shown out through windows and crumpled paper trash jumped along the sidewalk, rats and other animals scrambling around alleyways.

The normal gloom of Gotham seemed to begin to subside as the villains did too. It certainly wasn't clean, wasn't fearless, but it was better. With one of the largest criminals gone and the others still locked up in Arkham it was clear that the people felt safer. They hadn't needed the Bat Symbol for about a month now, so for it to shine so suddenly was worrying.

Of course, it was exciting too. Without the need for Batman all Bruce had was boredom. He still went on patrols but it wasn't the same as a real case.

As soon as he reached the back alley of the police station he parked the Batmobile and jumped out of the seat. With ease he made it to the rooftop, having had the path engraved into his mind at this point. His boots landed on the cold concrete with a barely noticeable tap. The area was generally empty with only a few leaves and pieces of trash stuck in the corners. Standing next to the large light signal was the commissioner, hands in the pockets of his trench-coat with a lit cigarette poking out from his mouth as usual.

"Commissioner," The masked vigilante greeted as he stepped closer, just enough to be seen while still blending into the shadows.

Gordon turned, lifting a hand to hold his cigarette. "Ah, there you are. I've got either good or bad news depending on how you take it."

Batman stayed quiet, his usual blank yet stern expression plastered on his face as he waited for Gordon to continue. Although, once the commissioner did continue, his mind went wiped.

And what he said sent an odd feeling rushing through the bat.

"We found him."