I miss you.

Chapter Four: Empathy

"Bruce Wayne overdosed on sleeping pills last night.

His butler Alfred found him, half-dead in the living room. After rushing him to the ER to have his stomach pumped, he was hospitalized.

When he woke up, he wouldn't stop raving. Something about life being pointless, how we're all crazy, things like that. They sent him in here for a psychiatric evaluation, and it turns out the guy's lost his marbles! Can you imagine? Mr. Wayne?"

The secretary put down her paper and looked the nurse in the eyes. The nurse, Mr. Olson, seemed all too excited about this information.

"Yes, I'm aware," she said, going back to her reading begrudgingly. The nurse frowned.

"Ummm, excuse me!? BRUCE WAYNE! You know, the boy billionaire?! He's here, right now!"

"Why don't you go get his damn autograph then?" The secretary sighed sarcastically, and the nurse walked away in defeat. Nobody ever paid any attention to him.

Meanwhile, Bruce Wayne sat calmly in his padded cell, hoping, but still doubting, that maybe being here for a while might actually be good for him. It was true, he was a shadow of the man he once was. He knew he may never be whole again. He knew he'd helped people all over; helped to improve their lives and make them happier. It was half a week later of pondering that Bruce realized that that was all there really was to it.

In a world where religion is unproven, in a broken world full of inherently evil people, the only thing we can do is smile.

Of all things in life, in every passing moment, happiness is key. When Bruce realized this, everything changed. In our short lives, the only real point is enjoying every moment. After all, we will all die soon, anyway, so we have to make the best of our time here.

He sat in his room one night, still thinking these thoughts. His antidepressants had actually been working pretty well, and with this new outlook on life, he felt as though he could face the world again.

However, Bruce did not fret only for the good people in the world who may be unhappy; for some reason, he found himself thinking of the bad ones, too. Sure, every villain he'd ever fought was awful and vile, but they certainly weren't happy, either. People like the penguin made this quite obvious. The villains he fought were harsh, vile, and angry whenever Batman had confronted them, but what happened when they weren't causing trouble? When the caped crusader wasn't around?

Bruce realized something then that he'd never acknowledged before. All these people he'd fought; they were in pain, just like he was. And, in a way, he was just as bad as they were, because he'd hurt them. The Batman was just one more load added onto the pile of shit that they already had to deal with. And that?...that thought hurt him even more.

He thought again of the Joker, and, like all thoughts of the Joker did, this one left him perplexed. How was it that such a cruel man, a mass-murderer who has such a brutally true and hopeless viewpoint on life, seem to be so happy all the time?

Bruce remembered those acid green eyes. The way they constantly burned with hatred, even when all the while, the clown still flashed that devilish crimson grin. If you were to cover up his smile, you could swear you were face-to-face with the most unhappy man in existence. And all of a sudden, by some sick twist of fate, the bat found himself... pitying him?

But no, he thought, that couldn't be. After all the agony he's caused me, how couldn't I hate him?...I always have! He's ruined me, and yet...I understand why.

The clown had explained everything. About how life was pointless, and everybody was just as evil as he was. But Bruce knew that wasn't true. He'd seen a lot of people dealing with a lot of heavy things, and they didn't snap like the Joker did. They remained good people. So why did one event knock Joker's entire life out of balance?

Bruce knew why. Joker had no hope, not like everyone else did. The clown, despite his smile, was numb. He had never known true happiness. But Bruce did. And for some odd reason, an almost foreign feeling tugged at his chest, begging to be set free. As much as he struggled to repress these feelings, they wouldn't stop whispering the same strange thought into his head.

"Help him."