Shattered Pieces

Chapter 12

The doorbell rang, followed by a knock, Bruce standing up to open the door. He stared at the stranger in front of him, gears turning as lightning crashed in the rain.
"O-Oh! Come on in! Sorry, I've been so busy I forgot when you were coming."
"That's alright Mr. Wayne."
The man stepped inside after shutting his umbrella, taking his glasses off to wipe the rain from the lens.
"He's upstairs, I'll bring him down."
The man nodded, Alfred, walking over to take his stuff. Bruce hurriedly headed upstairs, not having any time to prepare Joker for their unexpected visitor.

"Joker."
Bruce called, walking over to the bed. He shook Joker's shoulder to wake him, Joker groaning.
"Morning."
He joked. Joker tiredly sitting up.
"Someone is here to see you. You may hate me after this but you have to know it is mandatory you cooperate, or else they'll send you back to Arkham."
Bruce sighed. Joker looked confused, staring blankly at Bruce.

"A psychiatrist is here."
"Oh..."
"Are you comfortable here or downstairs?"
"H-Here. Please?"

Bruce nodded.

Joker shifted uncomfortably, almost hiding behind Bruce. They both sat on the bed, the psychiatrist in a wooden chair across from Joker.
"I see you two have gotten close these past few days."
"I guess we have?"

"How has it impacted him?"
He looked at Joker, watching his eyes stare into the bed.
"I don't know, it doesn't seem important. The only thing important is helping him get better."
Joker watched the pen scribble around behind the clipboard, tensing. The words around him were mumbled, faces obscured as the room changed. He stared across the table at the Psychiatrist, watching him write lies. Lie after lie. His hand balled into a fist as he stood from his chair, jumping over the table to attack the man. Nobody could stop him from stabbing a pen through his eye. Joker started to giggle crazily, hugging himself as he did. His giggles soon became laughter, curling in on himself. He only calmed when he felt arms wrap around him in an embrace.
"Hush, it's okay."
Bruce whispered, rocking the laughing ball of a man in his arms. Joker's laughter seemed to slow as he did this. He shushed him as he held him close, Joker now hugging him tightly.
"I don't wanna go back!"
He said in a sob, still giggling. Bruce frowned and glanced at the psychiatrist.
"Arkham really messed with him. If anything he's been showing more signs of PTSD than anything else."
He sighed as Joker calmed down, clinging to him tightly. The psychiatrist nodded.
"I'll write a prescription."
"Thank you..."

"Thank you again."
Bruce called as the psychiatrist left, turning to hand the prescription to Alfred.
"Can you pick this up for me tomorrow? Tonight seems like a storm, I doubt much will happen."
As he finished his sentence thunder boomed outside
"Alright, sir."
Bruce headed back upstairs to Joker's room, the rain getting louder the higher up the manor he got. He signed when he saw Joker curled up in the blankets, flinching at the thunder. He climbed in with him and held him close.
"I used to be afraid of storms."
He whispered.
"Especially after my parents died. Every bang sounds like a gun."
He held Joker tighter.
"I can only imagine how it sounds for you."
"Fists... Hitting everything in sight."
He pulled the blanket over his head as thunder shook the manor. Bruce covered himself up with him.
"Alfred would always come up and calm me. Everything will be alright. I am here and I will never leave you again. He would say."
Joker scooted closer, resting his head under Bruce's chin. Bruce smiled softly and planted a kiss on his head.