Shattered Pieces

Chapter Three

"Joker has escaped! I repeat! Joker has escaped!"
Batman growled as he listened through the police radio. He finally had a new mission... Re-capture Joker. He decided to towards Arkham first. He knew Joker was smart and fast, so he must be quite far from Arkham. Though he somewhat hoped he wouldn't find Joker.

It took him a while but he spotted Joker, jumping in front of him to stop his tracks.
"I'm taking you back to Arkham, Joker!"
He growled. He couldn't help but notice Joker was leaning against the wall, trying to stay up in the rain.
"Batsy..."
He chuckled, voice raspy.
"About time you came."
The clown grinned weakly. Without warning, as Batman took a step closer, Joker collapsed, falling unconscious into his arms. Batman could see how abused and neglected he was, feeling his heart sink at the sight.
"Joker?"
No response.
"Joker get up!"
Panic slowly filled his mind.
"This isn't funny you idiot!"
He gently shook the limp body in his arms.
"Get up!"
Nothing. Not even a groan. He carefully picked up the underweight man, hurrying to the Batmobile.

"Alfred, I need you to set up a medbay, I'm bringing Joker to the Batcave. He is badly injured."
Batman said through the comms, trying to hide the panic in his voice. Joker laid in the passenger seat, the only sign of life the slow rise and fall of his chest.
"Sir, do you think that's a good i-"
"Just do it, Alfred."
"Right away sir."

Alfred sighed before ending the conversation. With another glance at Joker, Batman sped up. He knew Arkham had done it, not enough time between his escape for it to be anything else. His hands tightened around the steering wheel, knuckles turning pale under his gloves.

As soon as he parked the car he picked up Joker, carrying him bridal style to the medbay. Alfred stood near the elevator, not wanting to be seen if Joker were conscious. He hadn't figured it to be this bad.
"Do you need assistance Master Bruce?"
He asked after placing a bowl of water and alcohol next to him.
"No... It'll be alright."
Bruce said quietly, removing his cowl. Alfred nodded and left him be. He wasn't shocked to see Batman acting so caring to the clown, though he hoped this wouldn't affect him too much. Watching Bruce's heart ache made his ache.

With a sigh Bruce began to clean Joker's wounds, unable to do much until they were sterile. The green hair was dulled with dirt and blood, the Arkham uniform torn and dirtied. With a frown he removed the shirt, grimacing at the bruises and gashes. Some were recent, most sensitive and poorly treated. Eventually, the wounds were cleaned and patched, the water red. He couldn't help but stare at the body in front of him. He looked... Dead. Limp, cold, thin, pale and bruised.