He Ain't Crazy, He's My Brother

"Everybody, join in! There was a city had a pest, and Batsy was his name-o! B-A-T-S-Y, B-A-T-S-Y, B-A-T-S-Y, and Batsy was his name-o! There was a city had a pest, and Batsy was his name-o…"

Batman had been trying to tune out the singing as he led a handcuffed Joker down the corridors of Arkham Asylum, but when the next, repetitive verse started the clapping, he felt himself reaching his wits end. His hands tightened into fists as they walked past another cell of inmates, who joined Joker in singing and clapping.

"*clap* *clap* *clap* *clap* Y! *clap* *clap* *clap* *clap* Y! *clap* *clap* *clap* *clap* Y, and Batsy was his name-o! There was a city had a pest…"

"All right, that's enough!" roared Batman, whirling around. "The next person to say another word is getting their head slammed into the bars!"

Joker giggled hysterically. "Oh, it's just too easy to get your goat, Batsy!" he chuckled. "Everything from murdering innocent civilians to singing harmless songs, it all irritates you! You need to learn to relax – try some Bat-yoga! I hear it's great exercise, and you're already wearing the spandex!"

"What did I say about one more word?" growled Batman.

"Yeah, yeah, slam my head into the bars!" giggled Joker. "Like it'll do any good! You can knock out my teeth, but I can still hum! That's what you gotta learn to do, Batsy – look on the bright side of life! Every cloud has a silver lining, and it really is a beautiful old world, isn't it?"

Batman glared at him as he pulled him into the elevator, taking him down to the isolation ward. He had his arms folded across his chest while Joker whistled through broken teeth. He had been beaten to a pulp by Batman before being dragged back here, but he didn't seem to mind. Nothing wiped the smile off that face, thought Batman, gloomily.

"How's Robin?" asked Joker, smiling at him and breaking the silence as the elevator descended.

Batman didn't respond, and Joker shrugged. "Harley's fine."

"I didn't ask," retorted Batman.

"No, but it would have been polite to inquire about my other half, since I inquired about yours!" he giggled.

Batman still didn't respond, glaring at the door, and Joker sighed. "Oh, what's the matter, Batsy?" he asked.

"I don't know what you mean," snapped Batman.

"You! This whole brooding thing!" Joker exclaimed, gesturing to him. "Would it really kill you to lighten up?"

"Would it really kill you to be more serious for once?" demanded Batman.

"Yep," said Joker. "You know they say depression is a real killer, and if you're depressed over a long period of time, you should think about getting some help. Talking to someone. You know I'm always available."

"Don't make me laugh," muttered Batman.

"Well, I keep trying!" chuckled Joker. "But I'm beginning to think it's a hopeless cause. Still, I guess that's why they call me crazy – trying the same thing over and over and expecting different results. Expecting a smile on that gloomy old face of yours…"

"Don't touch me," snapped Batman, shoving his hands away from him.

"Why? Robin the jealous type?" giggled Joker. "Aw, it's always so good to see you, Bats! You're such a gag!" he laughed. "You just don't see it, and that's why it's so funny! You take yourself so seriously, while everyone else in the world is laughing at you! Well, I'll keep trying to help you see it, buddy. One day you'll go crazy, I just know it, and then everything will be sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows! We can commit crimes together, just the two of us, laughing all the way! They'd never be able to stop us, the Joker and the Bat! All you gotta do is surrender to the madness. It's so easy – just takes a teeny, tiny push…"

"I said don't touch me!" snapped Batman, punching him in the face. Joker fell back, chuckling to himself, as the elevator stopped and the doors opened.

"Just get in there," muttered Batman, shoving him into the nearest cell. "And stay there this time."

"Oh, where would the fun be in that, Batsy?" giggled Joker. "And you'd get so bored without me, y'know. You need me."

"Like I need skin rash," muttered Batman.

Joker frowned. "Aw, it hurts me that you won't admit our little connection, Batsy! We've got something special, you and me, something the other freaks don't have. Admit it. There's something between us, some spark. I know you feel it too. Just say it."

"You're right, Joker," retorted Batman. "There is something between us."

He slammed the cell door shut and stormed off. "Was that a joke?" called Joker after him. "Something between us like steel bars? Was that it? It's not a good joke if you have to explain it, y'know! We have to find you a sense of humor before you go crazy, Bats – I've already got one unfunny sidekick weighing me down, and I can't afford two…"

The elevator doors shut, blocking out Joker's voice, for which Batman was grateful. He tried not to let his arch-nemesis grate on his nerves too much, but sometimes the constant babbling was just too much to take. Batman was a serious-minded man, after all, and he couldn't stand the nonsense the Joker rattled off sometimes. Like that crap about them having a connection. Despite what some people on the internet asserted, thought Batman with a grimace, there was nothing but loathing on his part toward the Joker. Loathing and annoyance. He was surprised anyone could feel anything else for the lunatic.

"Sir, this arrived for you this afternoon," said Alfred as Batman returned home, climbing out of the Batmobile. He handed him a sealed envelope, which bore the postmark Conroy, Hamill, and Sorkin, Esq. Batman recognized these as the lawyers who had settled his parents' will and estate after their untimely demise, and he broke the seal and read the following:

Dear Mr. Wayne,

We were doing some rearranging in the office recently, and came across a letter in your father's file which had slipped to the back of the file cabinet. It was addressed to you, and we have included it, unopened, in this correspondence. We apologize for not delivering it to you sooner – had we known it existed, it would have been passed onto you promptly with the rest of his papers. We hope its tardiness has not caused you any unnecessary inconvenience.

Regards,

Conroy, Hamill, and Sorkin, Esq.

"Sir? What is it?" asked Alfred, noticing Bruce's solemn face as he removed his mask.

"A letter from my father," murmured Bruce, withdrawing the sealed envelope. His hand shook slightly as he examined it, not daring to open it yet.

"Should I, sir?" asked Alfred, holding out his hand.

"No," muttered Bruce. "I can do it."

He gently opened the envelope and withdrew the letter, unfolding it. He took a deep breath and read:

Dear Bruce,

I hope you will never have to read this letter. I hope it will never be necessary for me to explain this to you through empty, written words, rather than face to face. But since I have prepared my will, I have been speculating about what will happen one day when I'm no longer around, and in this matter, I would rather be safe than sorry.

By the time you read this, you will be old enough to understand, I hope, what I have to tell you. I hope it will not be hard for you to believe, and that the information will be a joy to your life, rather than any kind of unpleasant surprise.

Bruce, you have a brother. A half-brother, who was born before I even met your mother. I kept it hidden not for my own sake, but for the woman I loved, Mary, the mother of this child. She is a married woman, you see. I apologize if that shocks you - if you knew the whole story, I hope you wouldn't blame either of us for our actions. Anyway, judge me harshly if you must, but the important thing is the child. Our child. Your brother.

He was born about seven years before you. If you haven't met him yet, you must find him, for my sake. I want my children to be together and help each other, especially if I am no longer there to help you both. Blood is thicker than water, and you share blood with him, so you have a duty to look out for him. His name is Jack Napier.

Bruce dropped the letter with a sudden gasp.

"Sir?" asked Alfred, concerned as the color drained from Bruce's cheeks suddenly. "What's wrong?"

"Jack Napier," breathed Bruce. "Jack Napier. That name…it's an alias of…the Joker!"

"The Joker, sir?" repeated Alfred. "What's he got to do with your father's letter?"

Bruce stared at him, shock and horror in his eyes. "I…I think…he's my brother."