The Joke's On Batman

Chapter 7

-------------

"Oh my god!" a familiar cigarette-roughened voice yelled. "He's in here!" He heard the crunch of broken glass underfoot, and the smell of tobacco clinging to a long, beige coat. A light blinded him, and he lost consciousness.

He woke up in the hospital. His nose told him it was a hospital before everything else did, even the acidic churning of his stomach reacting to the strong drugs. It was the smell. Sickly sweet medicines paired with latex. His eyelids fluttered.

Before he could even adjust to the level of light in the room, someone sprang to his bedside. "Master Bruce!"

A wave of relief washed over him so strong that he felt a warm, wet sensation tickling his cheek. "Alfred." His vision adjusted enough to see his guardian, dressed still in formal attire. He took Alfred's hand and squeezed it tightly. "Alfred, I know who did it."

"So do the police," Alfred said, his voice quiet. "But they're not going to release it to the public. This is to have happened to Batman, not Bruce Wayne."

"Gordon found me." He closed his eyes.

"Yes, Master Bruce."

"I don't have to say anything, do I?"

Alfred paused. "I have already seen the medical reports."

Bruce felt his face burn with shame. "I didn't see it coming, Alfred. I didn't see it coming. If I hadn't I wouldn't have..."

Alfred stopped him by putting a finger to his lips. "It's alright, sir. I know. We'll be getting you the best help we can." The butler patted his hand.

"Alfred..."

"Yes, Master Bruce?"

"I didn't know how to tell you if I ended up dying. I didn't want you to..." Tears were trickling down his face again.

Alfred leaned over and gingerly hugged him. "I know."