Continuation of Part 5

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"We keep the dangerous ones in a separate wing. It is a precaution for their own, and everyone else's, safety," the doctor says, and Bruce is barely hearing him. He wonders why the man feels the need to explain all of this to him, but Bruce keeps quiet. Batman is a figure of mystique, after all.

The man, who introduced himself as Dr. Jonathan Crane, keeps talking as they walk. Doors are banged on by the patients as they walk pass their quarters, and Bruce can't help but relate the place to a prison. Just whiter. Everything's white. Batman's black suit makes him stand out like a sore thumb.

"Is that Batman?! Wow that's Batman!" One of the patients shouts from the little barred window of his cell— room, not cell.

Dr. Crane ignores the shouting, but he scans the patients faces as if keeping them in mind.

"Commissioner Gordon told me about your proclivity to violence," the doctor says, pushing up his glasses with his middle finger. He doesn't look at Bruce as he addresses him, and Bruce is pretty sure the doctor doesn't like him. "But that won't be an issue. His room is separated in half by 2.3 millimeter thick laminated glass. Only me and the nurses can go in and out."

They turn, and it's a dead end hallway. A single door waiting for them at the end of it.

"There is a sliding food tray compartment, do not pass anything through it," he looks down at the brown envelop in Bruce's grasp. "Except, of course, whatever has been approved of downstairs. Do not touch the glass in any circumstances. There will be no guards accompanying you, as privacy was one of your requirements to see him. But everything will be recorded, without sound."

They approach the door and stand before it, the doctor considers Batman for a minute, then he smiles, "I have to say, I didn't think you would come. Gordon was incredibly annoyed when we took him in our custody, and more so when the patient denied any visits from anyone except Batman." Bruce listens to what Dr. Crane says, but his eyes go to the door in front of them.

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Dr. Crane clears his throat, "I wish you good luck in your interrogation. You have forty minutes." Then Dr. Carne opens the door. And Bruce has to walk in.

Fuck.

The door closes behind him.

The room is just as the doctor said. Separated in half by a wall of glass, no windows. White everywhere.

Bruce doesn't know what to do.

"Oh Johny, missed me already?" A familiar voice says. And holy shit, what the fuck is Bruce doing. He doesn't dare look to the other side of the room. But his eyes are moving on their own.

The Joker is sitting on the floor, crosslegged, with his back to the glass. There is a small bed in one corner, a toilet on the other, and a metal chair against the wall. A similar one on Bruce's side of the room, which is facing the glass.

The Joker is still oblivious to his presence.

"Look, is not like I don't enjoy our little chats. Which I don't. But I might be more prone to tell you about my traumatizing childhood if you get me some pie. Relationships are about compromise, Johny."

Bruce doesn't respond. The Joker sighs. Then he turns around.

"Johny—"

Silence. The Joker's eyes go wide when they meet Bruce.

"You're not Johny," he says calmly.

Bruce goes rigid. He's not sure what to do. Or what to say. Because that's not the Joker... that's a guy. A normal guy. With blond hair, and blue eyes, and no make up in sight. And scars, big ugly scars forming an unnatural smile. But he barely notices them.

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