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Part Fourteen: Chapter 94: Checking

With the Joker in Arkham, Bruce Wayne felt almost lost as Batman. It just seemed as if none of the other criminals even mattered. They were juvenile delinquents compared to the Joker. The Joker could make most look as mere innocents. Batman had grown accustomed to chasing that damn clown. Chase. Capture. Lock up. Escape. Repeat. Bruce had never really realized before just how much of his time the Joker took up. So so so much time. With the Joker out of the picture time was starting to go by slower than ever. So slowly that it was like a creek that can no longer flow and grows stagnant.

Bruce was still so angry about what transpired the last time they were together. He was mad at the Joker for manipulating him for a second time. But he was even more angry with himself for falling for it. He was frustrated by the damn feelings he had for the Joker. Feelings that no matter what, he can't seem to obliterate them from his soul. He so desperately needed to forget him. He needed to forget his bright red lips. He needed to forget the way he felt. There wasn't a single thing about that clown that didn't torture Bruce now.

Bruce never really realized it before, the Joker had said it, but at the time Bruce hadn't believed him. Batman needed the Joker. He needed the chase. He needed the capture, the locking him up. He needed him to escape so he could do it all over again. Because it had become his life, his entire existence. Because the Joker pushed him and challenged him. And all the while, as he pushed, Batman was drawn to him. Bruce was drawn to him. Drawn like a magnetic force. Drawn like bees to honey. Like gravity draws everything downward.

And in spite of everything, all the havoc, all the casualties, the manipulation, and games, Bruce missed him. He missed his smile. He missed his stupid jokes. He missed the depth of his thoughts. Missed the twinkle in his eyes and every kiss that put it there. He missed the way he felt in his arms. And Bruce would give everything to just be able to stop. To be able to close his eyes and not see that white face. To be able to just carry on. For things to be they way they were before the Joker came into his life.

"Master Bruce, do you plan to mope around in the batcave all day again?" Alfred asks as he brings down a tray with lunch on it. "When was the last time you went to Wayne Tower?"

Bruce sighs and looks away from the pictures of the Joker on his computer. "Lucious runs things far better than I ever could."

"Then what's with the staying down here all the time, going over and over your file on that maniac sir?"

Bruce runs his hand through his hair. "I feel lost Alfred. Even more so than after my parents died."

Alfred puts the tray down and glances at the Joker's pictures. "Lost because of him?" He motions at the Joker's face. "I certainly do not understand your fascination with that man, neither from a vigilante standpoint, or a sexual one."

Bruce quickly looks away in embarrassment and shame. "It's not about the sex Alfred."

"Yet he's used sex to manipulate you twice now," Alfred feels the need to point out.

"It won't ever happen again. I know now that I can't trust him," Bruce says and can't help but look at the Joker's laughing face again.

"Well that's certainly good to know sir. You're lucky he escaped without killing you."

"He doesn't care about killing me Alfred. He needs me."

"Needs you sir?" Alfred quirks an eyebrow, "Whatever for?"

"To validate his reason for living," Bruce distantly says. His mind plays over how he felt the same, that the Joker validated all the reasons for Batman.

"There is no validating the things he does," Alfred says.

"He's had an extremely difficult life Alfred. Terrible parents, a mother on drugs, an abusive alcoholic father..."