Here is part 8. I hope you enjoy it!

During the eighth month, Bruce visited Joker's hideout a lot, unable to tear himself from that chair.

He would swear that Joker was there, almost physically, like a ghost. If Bruce closed his eyes he could sense him, moving around the room, the man's voice echoing hot and loud in his head.

It was worth the headache it caused him.

…

"Master Bruce!" Alfred said loudly as the Batmobile slipped into park. "Where have you been? Did you forget your appointment?"

Bruce stepped from the car, glancing over at Alfred with an almost withered look, "A-Appointment..?"

"Yes!" Alfred moaned dispiritedly, how had Bruce forgotten again? The third time this month! "With Dr Mahogany?"

Bruce held his hand to his forehead, "Crap… I'm sorry, I got… distracted."

"I tell you sir; you cannot avoid these appointments forever. I insist you go upstairs and talk to him now." He pointed up the stairs, as if he were directing a naughty toddler to its room.

Bruce huffed, ignoring, once again, the Joker's laughing in his head.

He had been so happy when it had returned, but still, when it was gloating-laughter, it annoyed him.

Joker had said he had forgotten something, but refused to say what it was.

So much like him…

He walked into the living-room on the first floor of his cold mansion, smiling a warm, fake, smile.

"Bruce!" Mahogany said brightly, pulling the older man into a tight hug, patting him gently on the back.

Bruce felt an odd rush of anger flood him as the man touched him, and he let out a short sigh, standing rigid, "Moggy… nice to see you."

The doctor chuckled, "Sure, please take a seat."

Bruce frowned; had he just been told to take a seat… in his own house? He glared a smile down at the doctor, and sat on his old chair.

"So… Bruce. May I ask why you have missed our past appointments?" The doctor pulled out a blue notebook, smiling and waiting for Bruce's response.

Bruce swallowed hard, "I was busy."

Mahogany shrugged gently, "Doing what? I've not see either Batman or Bruce Wayne in the news…"

"I was…" Bruce's eyes darted to his hands as he clenched them into fists, "on my own. I just needed some time."

Mahogany nodded, writing something in the A5 book, "Bruce, I've been talking to your… 'family'."

Bruce grunted gently; they weren't his family, a family would understand, a family wouldn't force him to talk to a doctor, they'd just let him live his life, leave him alone.

"They say you've been talking you yourself, acting… odd."

Bruce shook his head, anger flooding him again. He should do something to prove that this wasn't true.

If Joker were there he'd… preform some random act of violence to make Mahogany take him seriously.

He looked at the coffee table, staring blankly at the two cups of tea that sat there.

He could… smash a cup or something.

That'd teach the little shit to question his mental health.

"Bruce! What the hell" Dr Mahogany shouted, fear in his eyes. Bruce looked down, seeing the shattered handle of the china cup clenched in his hand, coffee spilled on the floor and blood beginning to pool on his palm.

"I..." he started, staring at the mess he had apparently made.

Alfred appeared, having head something smash, and began to clean the mess.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that. I…" Bruce continued staring down in disbelief as Alfred took the piece of china from him, saying he'd go and get a first aid kit.

"…You sure looked as if you meant to do it," Doctor Mahogany said gently, his face still twisted into a harsh frown. The man scribbled down a paragraph onto the notebook, the action caused another wave of anger through Bruce's skull. "I'm going to suggest," Mahogany said when he'd finished writing, "That you come down to Arkham, the sooner the better, and let me conduct a psychological report."

"What?" Bruce frowned deeply, "No, I'm not going there, I'm not one of them, I'm not crazy."

"I'm not saying you are," Moggy said, raising his arms defensively, "But, I want to help you, Bruce. You have so much promise, and there are so many people who care about you. I want to help."

Bruce got to his feet, staring down at the doctor, "I said no, Mahogany! You cannot make me go!"

"Actually Bruce, if I fear that you're putting your own health at risk, then I can make you."

Bruce could feel himself getting angrier with every word the blonde man said, "You think I'm going to hurt myself?"

Mahogany pointed to Bruce's hand; blood dripping slowly from the cut there, "You already have, Bruce. I cannot let you put yourself in danger like this."

Bruce felt the anger grow to a tipping point "Get out of my house, Dr Mahogany."

"Bruce, no. I cannot leave you like this."

Alfred, unbeknownst to Bruce, had reappeared in the room, holding the first aid kit. "Sir," he said gently to the younger man, "I don't think it's a good idea to…"

Mahogany nodded gently, and rose to his feet, "Ok. May I talk to you privately, Alfred."

Bruce watched as Mahogany left, Alfred following, giving Bruce the first aid kit as he passed, and leaving the man to clean himself up.

"Alfred," the doctor said gently as they walked towards the front door, "Bruce needs help."

Alfred nodded, "I know, sir. I'll," his voice dropped to a whisper, "I'll bring him to you, if you can arrange a time."

The doctor nodded, "Are you sure, you may need to over power him, bring him by force, would you be able to do that?"

Alfred nodded again, slower this time, thoughtfully, "Yes, I should be able to get Master Dick and Master Conner to help… Despite what he says, Master Bruce has many… 'powerful' friends, who want to help him. If this will help him then I'm sure they'll cooperate."

Mahogany nodded, "I'll call you when I've arranged something."

…

The phone began to ring only half an hour later, Alfred ran to it, hoping Doctor Mahogany had managed to sort something out.

He frowned when he heard Clark Kent's voice call down the phone, not the doctor's.

"Alfred, it's Clark, can I talk to Bruce please?"

"Master Bruce isn't available at this time, sir. Can I take a message?"

A short sigh came down the phone, "No, it's fine. Just, this is the 6th time I've called, and each time he's shrugged me off and said he's busy."

"Yes he's…" Alfred stopped for a second; was it really his place to say? "He's not been entirely himself."

"Kon said he's acting really weird. He said Tim hasn't seen him in weeks, and that he's shut himself off."

"He's… He's not well," Alfred could feel emotion starting to swell in him as he talked; until this point he'd hoped that Bruce would be able to get over it, but now that didn't seem to be the case.

He heard Clark sigh again. "I could come over? If you feel it would help. I know he doesn't really like me, but, I'm worried."

Alfred smiled to himself; it was important the Bruce know how many people cared about him getting better, and, if anything, it would give Alfred the relief of knowing that there were other people who could help him deal with the problem.

"That would be a great help, sir… When should we be expecting you?"

Clark hummed in thinking, "I'm free… from Thursday? Would that be ok?"

Alfred nodded down the phone, "Yes, your presence would be a great help."

…

That Thursday, Alfred found himself glancing out the window, down the driveway, anxious for Clark's arrival.

Doctor Mahogany had called that morning, saying that he had arranged a mental-health interview for Friday afternoon.

Alfred hadn't been able to contact Dick; it turned out that he gone for a few days to visit one of Wally's relatives, though he didn't know the reason why.

So now, Clark was his only hope of 'coercing' Bruce to go to this meeting.

So, when he saw Clark's familiar form appear at the bottom of the drive, his heart jumped with relief.

"Master Bruce!" Alfred shouted up the stairs as Clark approached, "You have a visitor!"

There was no reply, Bruce mas most likely still moping in his room, Alfred waited for Clark to knock on the door, and opened it to greet him.

He was slightly shocked when Clark pulled him into a hug, "Alfred! It's been ages. It's good to see you."

Alfred nodded, "You too sir. Master Bruce should be upstairs. I'll go and get him for you."

Clark waved his hand dismissively, "No, no, I'll get him, it'll be a nice surprise for him."

Alfred attempted to stop him, knowing that Bruce had recently developed a strong dislike of wearing trousers in the house, but Clark sped off before he could get a word out.

"Alfred!" a shout spilled down the stairs half a minute or so later, "He's not up here!"

"What?" Alfred said in disbelief, it had been less than half an hour since he had last seen his employer, and the man had been in no state to go out.

"He's not here," Clark repeated from the top of the stairs, he glanced down towards the Batcave, concentrating intensely, "And the Batmobile's gone too."

"Oh no…" Alfred said, lifting his hand to his forehead as Clark descended the stairs and took a place by his side.

Clark lifted an eyebrow in slight confusion, "I take it he's not supposed to go out…?"

Alfred sighed, "He's got an appointment tomorrow… at Arkham-"

"At Arkham? I didn't know things were that bad."

Alfred nodded, "He keeps doing this, I have no idea where he goes."

Clark smiled, "I have x-ray vision, I can fly and I have super-speed. I'll find him in no time."

He clapped his hand to Alfred's back, and turned to leave the house.

Clark searched for all of 5 minutes before locating Bruce; alone in an underground room.

He dropped through the round hole, his eyes still fixed on Bruce, seeing him half-asleep, one of Joker's jackets draped over him like a blanket.

The smell of must and old sweat hit him immediately, "Bruce," he said gently, walking to Bruce's side.

Bruce inhaled with a snort, opening his eyes, then jolting violently, seeing Clark there when he hadn't been only 5 minutes ago.

Bruce didn't even know Clark was in Gotham.

"C-Clark?" he asked, clearing his throat, and straightening himself up, "What are-"

"What are you doing here?" Clark interrupted, looking around the room "What is this place?"

Bruce frowned suddenly; why was Clark here? Why was he here? He had no right, or… permission.

"Clark, will you get out, please?"

Clark shook his head and chuckled, "Nah, Bruce, I'm supposed to take you home."

Bruce's frown deepened, he clutched onto the Joker's jacket, holding it to his chest, "I…" he shook his head, "No."

"Bruce…" Clark said, extending his hand to take Bruce's, noticing the weird twitch Bruce seemed to have developed, "Come on, I'm taking you home."

He shook his head again, eyes at Clark's feet, "I'm staying here," he growled, pulling the jacket closed to himself.

Clark took Bruce's wrist forcefully, what was wrong with him? "Bruce," he said calmly, "Come with me."

"No!" Bruce screamed, pulling his arm away, leaving Clark confused, "I want to stay here, you can't make me leave!"

"Bruce don't play this game with me," Clark said, his confusion giving in, knowing now that something was wrong with him, "You know I can make you."

Bruce let out a low growl, he held his hand to his head, pulling his hair gently, "Fuck!" he yelled, "Stop laughing! It's not fair, stop it, stop it!"

"Bruce, no one's laughing," Clark extended his hand again, "Come with me, I can help."

"No you can't! I'm not an idiot don't lie to me!" he screeched, he tried to escape Superman's grasp, hitting him, kicking him, but the man's arm enveloped him, and soon he found himself hurtling through the sky, back towards his home.

…

He sat in the bolted-down chair at Arkham Asylum, across the table from Doctor Mahogany. He'd had no sleep last night. The Joker's voice called in his head…

Well it wasn't my fault you got no sleep.

Bruce frowned, he would have slept fine if the laughter would have stopped.

He wasn't even sure why it was there.

I'm here because you want me here.

It was true… he did.

Doctor Mahogany was looking at him intently, watching his mannerisms.

Bruce sighed, looking down at his hands, noticing how chipped his nails were. Joker had been through so many of these interview things. Perhaps in this very room.

Joker would know exactly what to do to get him out of here.

Just… act calm, maybe hit on the guy a little to put him off guard, that's what Joker would do.

Bruce looked up at the doctor again, and saw that now he was smiling widely, his face showing a little blush, looking down at his nails, "Yes, well," the doctor said, giving a tiny cough, and looking through his notes, "Let's get this over with."

"Let's start with the standard Rorschach test…" he took several cardboard pieces from the bag under his desk, "It shouldn't take long."

He knew Joker had done these, he'd seen so many recordings of it, he'd seen the man make the interviewer think he was sane, think he was insane, or, hell, even made the interviewer himself insane!

"Ok…?" the doctor said, scribbling something down on his notepad, "This one?"

He held up the cardboard, and Bruce looked intently at it, he smiled, "It looks like a bat."

Mahogany chuckled, "Yeah, I assumed you'd say that."

He put the cardboard slides back in the bag. Bruce frowned; he had only shown him one. Weren't there normally at least 8?

The doctor began to talk before Bruce could say anything about it, "Clark told me that you complained about hearing laughter… could you explain that to me?"

"I don't know…" Bruce mumbled, "I just… felt dizzy and… I don't know."

The doctor hummed thoughtfully, "Well… I think I'd like to book you in for a scan. As we both know um… dizziness and hearing things could be a sign of a tumour."

Bruce shook his head, "No… I…"

"Bruce," the doctor said firmly, "I suggest that you go home, get some rest, and come back in three days for a scan. After that, I'll start you on whatever treatment is necessary. Ok?"

Bruce paused for a second… he should do that. It sounded like a good idea…

"Ok," he said slowly. He waited for the doctor to get to his feet and open the door.

Clark was standing on the opposite side of the door, smiling politely and waiting for Bruce to be led out.

The man had insisted that he stay outside the room, rather than sit with Alfred in the waiting room; he knew how dangerous Batman could be, he didn't want to risk anyone getting injured.

"Hey, Bruce…" Clark cooed condescendingly, much to Bruce's annoyance.

"Shut up Clark. Take me home…" Bruce growled as the doctor led them both down the hall, towards where Alfred was seated.

Alfred stood at seeing his charge, handing the man his coat.

"You think he's ok?" Clark asked gently, even though he had heard what the doctor had said in the room with Bruce.

"We're going to give him a scan first, to make sure nothing's medically wrong."

Clark nodded along as the doctor talked, his mind more focused on how Bruce had been acting the past couple of days; the doctor thought it may be medical? But what kind of medical condition could cause such… erratic behaviour.

He and Bruce had sat together the previous night, watching tv, and a documentary had come on about the batman and his strange disappearance, and during a run of old footage Bruce had begun to laugh, saying 'Yeah, I remember that'.

It seemed so unlike him.

"Doctor, if that's all?" Bruce asked, seemingly impatient as he stood by the door, waiting for the two to finish talking so they could leave.

He didn't like being about as if he wasn't there.

As if he wasn't human.

He brought a hand to his head as the laughter suddenly grew louder, and he couldn't help joining it in a soft chuckle.

Was this how Joker had felt? How the other inmates must feel?

Did he make them feel this?

…

That night Bruce balled himself on the sofa, covering himself in a purple blanket.

It was made of the same material as Joker's suit.

He inhaled deeply… it didn't smell of him.

"Hey," Clark's voice came to him, interrupting his thoughts, "Mind if I join you?"

Bruce looked up at him; standing in the doorframe, a large bag of crisps in his hand staring down at him and smiling sweetly.

"Sure," Bruce grunted, letting the other man sit by him, almost disgusted by the happy energy he exuded.

Clark let out a gentle moan as he made himself comfortable, "Bruce."

"Yeah?"

"You know, I'm going to stay here, as much as I can. I'll help you get through whatever's happening."

Bruce shook his head, "You should just leave. Dick has, Tim has."

"The only reason they left is because you threatened them. I will not respond to your threats. I'm not leaving."

Bruce huffed, pulling the blanket closer to him, moving his eyes to the tv, wanting to wrap himself in the fabric of Joker's suit and fall to his image and fall asleep.

He felt his eyelids begin to grow heavy, he tried to put off sleep for as long as he could, his eyes darting between Clark and the tv, watching the man's smile waver as he watched his programme.

When he couldn't hold off the weight of sleep any longer, he made himself get up, and stumble to his room.

He flopped onto his bed, and wrapped his blanket around him, nuzzling into the material, letting his head fill with Joker's voice, laughter and coos, singing him to sleep.

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