Work Text:
Patient Discharge Evaluation #2 — Written Response
Patient Name: John Doe
Patient Age: Don’t really know
Date: March 27 March 28th
Attach the picture you were presented with on the front of this paper and describe what you see. Your response should be between 100 and 200 words. Begin answering on the lines below:
Well, first of all, I see two men having a conversation together—or is it just sitting together? Anyway, two men! At a table in a cafe and really I should get into why I am writing this piece of work before I get on with my usual rambling, or else how will the person reading understand what is presented to them in the first place? It just seems so unnatural for me to come out of the blue and bombard them with my writing, Dr. Leland did say I have a tendency to ramble…
So, me, John Doe, formerly known as the joker, is writing this evaluation because I have been behaving myself and Dr. Leland said that if I keep up my good streaks of not stabbing the guards in the eye with my pen or spiraling into maniac episodes, I might be on schedule for another discharge. (The last one didn’t go so well but this time it’s going to be different!)
As I was saying, there are two men sitting at the cafe table, and they are, at least I hope, pleasantly chatting. Maybe it’s on the idea of love, or work. I hope it’s the former because as far as I know, I’ve not worked a single day in my life! I guess I just never saw purpose in it other than getting a bed to sleep on at night and food in my belly. I got all those for being in the Pact. Now don’t get me wrong, living with those guys was tough business, for sure, but if there was one thing they had done right it was to keep everyone nice and cozy. We had pizza, burgers, Harley really loved her smoothies and sometimes I would be tasked to bring one for her and I’d just pick out the biggest cup from the pickup counter when they’re not looking. I wouldn’t call it stealing, no, they just make you another one anyway. They’ve never been harsh on their customer policies.
Harley really liked things that are sweet. She and I met here at Arkham the last time I was in. It felt like a century ago. She would host therapy sessions and call me into the office and we’d talk about her nails. And her makeup. She’d go on for HOURS about now painstakingly easy they are to chip and I would sit there and nod. She really had the most beautiful smile, especially when she graced me with those demeaning insults. I thought about inviting her to a game of checkers in the rec room but I never had the courage to ask. I also thought about taking her to a restaurant date but the Arkham cafeteria doesn’t really qualify as a Michelin 3-star and she hated cafeteria-dining anyway. Normally I’d just pick-pocket the guards for spare change and get her airheads from the facility shop (another bad habit that I’ve successfully shed). We were so sweet before she dumped me. Bruce said the signs were always there. Said that she never learned how to spell my name or listened to a word I said. He said she was rude . Like that time we were in the Covenant, I stepped on her toe when I fetched her her makeup packet and I said oh god Harley I’m so sorry and she said JESUS CHRIST JON THAT WAS MY BEST PAIR O’ SHOES and shooed me out with a black eye to my face. I couldn’t sleep at all that night. I was so… disappointed with myself.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the relationship between me and her. I’ve never…talked to anyone about it, just dwelling on it at night when the hall’s all quiet and the noises in my head were too loud. I know she used me. I know she never loved me. God does it pain me to even write these words down! But it’s not good to lie to yourself, that’s what Dr. Leland said, I shouldn’t lie to myself. But how can I not feel a little desperate when I think about her? I mean, she, she was all that I had! For a very long time it was her and John against the world! …and Bane, and Freeze, and that stupid, infuriating, mind-boggling Riddler! Well, that’s that… What I’m getting at is, I didn’t have anyone to look up to other than her. She was my light outside of Arkham, you know? Things are different out there. They’re chaotic, unpredictable, messy. And Harley, she thrives on that madness. She was like a bird released into the wild, prancing freely in her natural habitat, while I felt like…something caged, something locked away. Uncertain. Awkward. Lost. I thought maybe I could learn to be like her had I just sucked up to her, but I guess in the end she only used me for my innocence. I didn’t need Bruce to tell me that. I knew it in my heart when she abandoned me for the virus.
I never truly spoke to her ever since. There was that talk on the bridge and I meant for it to be a genuine conversation—I tried to make her see right!—but she didn’t want anything to do with me. All she saw was her and her problems and that psychotic bottle of virus she called a solution. A lot has happened to me since then. I’ve changed. For better and worse, but changed for sure. I got into a little episode with Batman. It was fun at first but then we had…some sort of a fallout. I couldn’t agree with him on his methods, especially in the case of those agency pigs, who tried to frame me, defame me, and make me look bad in front of my men. I won’t lie to you, that whole night was still pretty blurry to me. I guess I got tased a little too hard (and had a knife through my hand, can you believe that?) so my accounting might be a little skewed. I remember standing there on the metal platform with Waller cuffed and my knife pointing straight at her face and he just walked in bitching nonsense about justice and doing what’s right . I don’t remember a whole lot more apart from that. I…I don’t think I want to remember. Those memories all just bring back tears and sorrows and a runny nose.
Come to think of it…isn’t it funny that I just get used and used and used again? Sure, I volunteered myself back here with the jailbreak to help Bruce and that was fun, but what about the Pack and that infiltration? He told me he was a friend. “I’m your friend, John. I’ll always look out for you.” Well, clearly, a “friend” wasn’t as worthy to him as the laptop or the virus or just bloody anything else! I tried to make amends with him, I really did. I collected his photos and made peace between him and Willy and I almost died for him! The outfit, the jokerrang, the gas pallets were all tributes to him! But what did I end up with? A knife in my hand and another three years in Arkham. He told me this is my home. Said that I seemed happy when I talked about it at the cafe. Well news flash Bruce, you don’t get to choose your home when this is the only place that wants you!
…We were so happy when we were back at the cafe. Talking like real friends like those guys in the picture. He was well-dressed like them too. Handsome, slick like all the other billionaire playboys. And I was just a watery-eyed little puppy trying to get to know him. I asked him how to impress Harley, looking back on it now maybe I was really asking how to impress him . And he told me to just be myself. But he doesn’t really appreciate the real me, doesn’t he? He likes the nice John, the John that doesn’t say no, the John that’ll do everything he asks and help him with his plans. Not the John that stands out for himself, that pins after him trying to be loved . I had a wall of his photos, spent years collecting them. Him standing with Alfred, him at the funeral, it really took me some great effort stealing newspapers from the stands. The wall was there when we were at Ace Chemical too. I was pinned to the control panel by that knife, and I asked him if he had ever seen me as a friend. You know, I was surprised when he said yes. For a moment I really thought he was going to come out and admit that he had just used me all along. That I was disposable to him just like how Harley was disposable to Waller.
I couldn’t even think straight for a few days after that. He left me at Arkham and at first I was happy that I was alone so he wouldn’t use me again but what reason has he got to lie? I wasn’t even expecting to get out of this cell ever again in my life! Maybe he wanted me as a resource, maybe he thought I would spread good words of him, maybe…he just had a moment of conscience and decided to give false hope to poor me. Or he wanted to break my spine and make me a super-intelligent computer prophet in a wheelchair or something… I dunno. Point is, I was done having his shit. No more ignorant, impressionable John Doe that some billionaire can just use as he’d please. Well, that was until he visited me the next week.
When the guards lifted the hatch I was somehow ecstatic to see him. Old habits die hard I guess. He even brought me a get-well card that came from the same store as the one I offered at the funeral. It didn’t have the bear picture on it but he said that one ran out so he got me the closet he could find. He also didn’t have a letter in his name to draw the sad face on (Bruce sure isn’t an easy name to work with creatively) so he just drew two smiles in the B. I wanted to thank him and hug him like that time I killed those agents at the funhouse for self defence, but then I was reminded of everything that he has done to me so I put up a stone face and told him to get out. He got a little sad, the way rich people always do when they’re rejected. We didn’t say much and after a while he just left. I didn’t throw the card away though, I never found out why…
I wasn’t looking forward to it but he visited again the week after that, same time. By that point I was already completely lost on what he was trying to do, but before we get to that you and I need to make a few assumptions. I know this might sound unhinged but I need you to assume that Bruce Wayne is Batman. Crazy thought, right? But just hear me out on this: Bruce Wayne is a guy, Batman is a guy. They’re both really handsome and have some crazy gadgets. Most importantly, they both have a profound influence on dear ol’ John Doe. Got it? Anyway! The guard let him in again and this time there was no card or flower or anything like that, but he did open up on how he’s quitting his vigilante night job. I asked him why. I thought Batman was his inseparable second self or something! He said it was complicated. Obviously he still wanted to help Gotham but he couldn’t go on with his current method, something about it being too dangerous and volatile. He was looking into my eyes when he said that and I had this small feeling that he might be referring to me. That Batman ended up a bad influence because it gave rise to me. Or rather, the Joker. But none of that made any sense because I wasn’t getting out of Arkham any time soon! And you and I both know that he only used me to get what he wanted. He’s not feeling sorry because poor John got hurt and had a knife through his hand, he’s just…ugh, I don’t know what he wants anymore! Joker was not a bad thing. Joker ended up in Arkham because he lost his mind and killed those agency pigs for self defense. But he tried to do what’s right. I, tried to do what’s right. To be like him. Exert justice in Gotham like a true blue vigilante! No…that wasn’t right, not anymore. I wasn't trying to be Batman, I was me. The me that he desperately repressed, the me that he almost killed. He got a little nervous and said that none of it mattered because there will be no more vigilantes in Gotham from now on, he can just do philanthropic work and I started laughing and I must’ve laughed really hard because the guards had to come in and give me a sedative.
Three days later he came again. I asked him why not the usual time and he just said he wanted to see me. I couldn’t gauge whether that was a lie or not so I let him be. He was real careful with his words this time, almost like he was trying to avoid the heated topic that got me so worked up last time. So I had to go on the offensive. I asked if he was enjoying being Bruce Wayne, always hiding behind his mask and toying with people’s feelings. Always so righteous, sitting on his high horse and lecturing to the masses. “Do you think I’m playing with you, John?” he said.
“No, I think you’re manipulating me. I can get out, you know? Cause a wreckage in the rec room and climb the walls to freedom. Who knows what I’m capable of doing outside?”
He had to look away from me after I said that. I guess he wasn’t very happy. After a while he finally started again. “Does that actually bring joy to you? Being violent and destructive?”
Not gonna lie, I didn’t know how to respond to that one. I mean, what sort of a question was that? It’s not about what makes me happy, it’s about making him pay. Like how I made Waller pay for her crimes.
“But I want you to be happy, John.”
…It’s funny. I didn’t remember what I said to that. I think the memory must’ve gotten lost somewhere in the crannies of my brain. But I do remember him looking at me with those crystal blue eyes and I must’ve started laughing again. But it wasn’t a good laugh. No. That one was ugly and miserable, and when the visit session was over and the guards had shushed the other patients down the hall I saw the lights come on in the yard and those were some beautiful lights.
He didn’t visit me again until two weeks later. But I was glad about it. There were…certain things I had to sort out in my head. I started crocheting again. Life here at Arkham can get pretty repetitive, you know? So I recommend you get a hobby of your own too. Anyway, I didn’t have a lot of subjects to work with so I did the best that I could. I made a ragdoll of Willy from what I remembered of him at Stacked Deck and another one of Zsasz but he didn’t appreciate my work. Said I got the number of scars mixed up or something. When I ran out of inspiration I made one of Bruce too, wasn’t looking forward to it but things happen, I guess. I tried not putting my mind on it and when my meds didn’t work and those bad memories came flooding in I’d just stab him over and over again with my needles and hope he’d hurt. But I doubt the voodoo doll had any real effect, otherwise I would’ve seen it on the news already. “Bruce Wayne suffering from a severe headache,” “Bruce Wayne going through physical therapy for a broken back.” These days they report the tiniest inconveniences celebrities go through.
He complimented the doll the next time he came. He was a little shocked, actually. Here’s how it went:
“Wow, John, is that for me? I didn’t think you’d be so considerate.”
“Why would I make a Bruce Wayne doll for Bruce Wayne? It doesn’t make sense buddy.”
“Oh yeah. You’re probably right.”
“I made it so I can stab you when I feel like it.”
“Oh.”
But I wasn’t…exactly truthful in my statements. At least not all of it. You see, when I was busy crocheting there were two Johns standing on each side of my shoulder. One told me to make the doll so I can let out my anger, the other one said that I was only doing it because I still have feelings for him. Now that I think about it, that might’ve been Dr. Leland. During therapy, yeah.
“But you didn’t make a Harley doll,” she said. “Don’t you hate both of them to the same degree?”
Great! Now even I don’t know what’s going on in my head. Though I do know what Bruce Wayne the billionaire playboy was thinking, I could see it all on his face when he tried to coax me into his “friendship” again:
“John, I know you hate me, and you’ve every right to feel that way. But I want you to know that I truly care about you.”
“Smooth talk, buddy. You’ve tried this already. Remember that time you needed me to find Harley?”
“Alright, then what about the batarang I gave you, or the photos we took? What reasons have I got to do those other than the fact that you matter to me?”
“Those , were not friendship, Bruce. Those were charity.”
I know what he was thinking, oh yes, old buddy John knows Bruce like the back of his hand. He wanted to feel good, knowing he had once again rescued this downtrodden Gotham citizen from his miseries.
“Fine, then let’s forget about me. Say this is about you. What do you want me to do? What can I do to make you happy, John? If we can just…let go of the past, who would you like to be?”
You know, I once recited this little poem I wrote to Bruce back at Stacked Deck, back in those good old days before our relationship went down the drain. It was mostly improved on Riddler. Goes something like this: Who am I? Who am I? You’re a rotting stinking corpse! That’s you! Now, if Riddler is nothing but a frozen corpse, and Bruce Wayne is a spoiled brat, then who is John Doe?
“I…I don’t know.”
“Well, then this would be a great time to start finding out. I can help you with it.”
Ugh, I hated how right he sounded, it’s infuriating. And Dr. Leland said that he didn’t seem entirely dishonest either, after all, he has no reasons to come visit me again. Why do people keep telling me things I already know? She told me that maybe I should give him a second chance, that befriending him again might let me figure out who I am. Even if that might hurt me, it’s better than being locked away in a ward forever. But how can I look at him the way I used to after all this?
“I see you’ve stopped stabbing my doll,” he said.
“You sure? Pretty sure these holes in his chest aren’t from the crocheting.”
“They haven’t grown in number since the last time I visited."
“Funny how you keep picking up these unimportant details, buddy.”
“It’s what people like me do. Look, there’s…something I want to show you too. Here, I know it’s not much but I’m still trying.”
“Gosh Bruce, is that a starfish?”
“No. No it’s a…a you, John. A doll of you.”
I kept the doll after he left though it made me a little nauseous looking at it. I tried to consult Zsasz to see whether it was mal-intentioned (I know I made a voodoo doll to hurt him but this was some arcane shit). He still refused to talk to me after my offense, and the fact that I might’ve ruined his whole motto a few years ago. For the first few nights I placed the doll on the nightstand next to the Bruce-torment-puppet but it just looked extra mutilated by comparison, so I had to relocate it onto my bed. Keep the bad spirits happy so they don’t haunt you and things like that. Maybe I ended up cuddling the doll to sleep, I can’t remember. Nighttime is always so confusing. Now have I mentioned that Arkham can get pretty boring once you’ve lived here for too long? I recall spending my whole mornings looking at that doll for needle wounds because the rec room was under repair. Didn’t find any though, no.
Next week another one. This one must've gone to some pretty fancy business schools for it to learn the basic decency of putting on clothes.
“Wooo, are these his eyes?”
“No, no, that would be his nose.”
“Okay buddy.”
“I, uh, couldn’t find any spare fabric lying around so I resorted to cutting up one of my suits for his outfit. Alfred nearly had a stroke when he saw it.”
“Ha! You should’ve let the experts handle the job, guess buddy John still beats you to that!”
“Are you saying you would make doll clothes for me, John?”
“......no.”
I did, in fact, end up making doll clothes for Bruce Wayne. I didn’t want to! I just…couldn’t find anything better to do other than poking fun at Sane Lewis or banging on the phone guy’s door (he always gets the number wrong). I had plenty of time to make as many outfits as I pleased, though most of them weren’t good enough and I had to dump ‘em in the trash. I was so torn on who my doll version would be, I ended up keeping both the polka dot shirt and the joker suit for him to pick.
“I don’t want to pick for you, John.”
“Well you better decide buddy ‘cause I have decision paralysis.”
“What can I say, I like them both.”
“Really?”
“Maybe he can have a wardrobe, seems only fair that doll you get a better treatment.”
“Huh.”
Before he left he offered me the third doll, and this one looked mostly human. By that point my nightstand was already packed, so I had to pick one to join me on the bed. I ruled out the Bruce doll first to prevent the bad dreams (maybe he’s a little too true to the source material). I think I ended up choosing mutilated me. Didn’t want him to do things to the rest of the crew when I’m not looking.
I was having fun with him when Ex-Bat decided to pay me a surprise visit.
“Surprise, John,” he said.
For some reason my indigestion returned and there was some turbulence in my heart when I saw his figure in the hatch window, almost like that first time he showed up when I thought no one on this Earth would visit old John again. I almost hugged him, glad I didn’t. That would be embarrassing. The guards let him in (did I mention he was paying them, this whole time?) and now the joke’s on him because I was the one that was supposed to be surprised but he got surprised that I was surprised and was even more surprised that I didn’t give John-Doll-3 a wardrobe but stuck to John-Doll-1. Was that clear? I might be getting a little confused myself…
“What’s wrong with that new one? Thought I was finally making progress.”
“Oh there’s nothing wrong with him. Just thought he wasn’t… appropriate anymore.”
“Appropriate?”
“I’m talking about the outfits, buddy. You’ve got the old me and the Joker me. Don’t get me wrong, those me were great. But they’re dead. I can’t go back to them anymore, can I? This here, though, this feels right.”
Battered. Broken. Deformed.
“...I didn’t…mean to do it.”
“I know.”
“...Even if he looks like a starfish?”
“Oh yeah… yeah I guess.”
I don’t know what got into his head after that conversation but the dolls stopped coming in. Wasn't quite meaningful when my favorite one was the worst one. Instead he started bringing me other stuff, like that extra large smoothie I got at the cafe. It almost gave me the brain freeze when I downed it in one go, glad that didn’t happen or else I’d have to start coming up with villain names that don’t sound like ripoffs to Mr. Freeze. (Dr. Leland certainly wasn’t happy when she found out, the patients here aren’t supposed to eat anything unchecked. It was a very happy day when Bruce Wayne the billionaire got scolded). I started behaving a lot more, too. Taking my meds, not giving heart attacks to that phone guy. Bruce tried to encourage it with promises of taking me out, “I might even show you around the Batcave, John.” But I didn’t need encouragement. Nope. This feller is dead set on getting outta this place. Not that I don’t like the folks here, no, it’s just…Arkham can’t contain me anymore, there’s a part of me that wants out. There’s nothing to learn about yourself being stuck inside a room all day with nothing but a bed and some toys, isn’t it? Though I may have this feeling that I’m starting to go off on a tangent…
The photo, right, the photo. The task was for me to describe the photo. Yeesh. You know, during one of the early visits Bruce did say that I am a very whimsical person. “I’ll take that as a compliment!” I said. But since I was behaving so well I earned myself a day pass, they made me call my emergency contact using the forbidden phone, who just so happened to also be Bruce. He told me he was at a business meeting with Regina but he’d cancel it for me, and half an hour later I was riding shotgun in his posh sports car racing down the highway. He asked me where I wanted to go, and this is the part where my story ties back to the photo: I told him to head for Cafe Triste, you know, like the cafe in the photo? The two men? Not that I’ve seen the picture prior to this evaluation, of course. It was just a coincidence…
When we got there he opted to buy me a smoothie but I said I wanted whatever he got. He was a little lost and asked me why, “Forgive me if it offends you, but aren’t you trying to shake off whatever influence I’ve had on you?”
Nope. I mean yes, but also no. You see, I was totally truthful when I said that the old John was completely dependent on billionaire playboy Bruce. And it is very stereotypical for the old me to get an extra large Supercharged Glow-up Berry Vanilla Sprinkle-Unicorn Cinnamon Smoothie with added syrup. But I’ve made up my mind that this new me can still be his own person while wanting to enjoy whatever his best pal is enjoying. So that was exactly what I told him.
He blushed when I said “best pal” and I noted that the place he came from must’ve been significantly warmer than Gotham otherwise his face wouldn’t light up so much at 68 degrees. It was like the middle of winter for him. He told me then that he grew up here. The owner handed us our drinks and I took the cup up like how those aristocrats on TV do, with the lifted pinky and all. I blew the steam off but the coffee was really hot so it was a long blow. When that was set and done I brought the cup to my lips and GOD HAVE I EVER TASTED ANYTHING MORE ATROCIOUS THAN THAT! I- I mean it was nice, really, high class and fancy and things like that…it just had an awful taste. Ugh, I can feel it creeping up my tongue as I write these words… I must’ve spat it all onto the table because Bruce was laughing like crazy, mopping with a napkin and putting a hand to his face, and I was supposed to be the maniac here.
“What are you laughing at?!”
“Sorry, John, it’s just… I told you you weren’t going to like it.”
“No, no, I liked it alright… I just didn’t like it in my mouth.”
“Whatever you say, buddy.”
I made that Batman-frown with the arms crossed when he called me “buddy.” You see, everyone gets their own names, you don’t see anyone else called Bruce Wayne walking down the street, do you? Now, if Bruce is already my buddy, then he’s gotta find his own pet names and stop stealing mine. But I just…can’t bring myself to enforce my own principles and it’s killing me!
“Do you mind if I start calling you buddy, John?”
Yes.
“......no.”
He smirked a very Bruce-Wayne rich-boy smirk and drank his cup of coffee like it was water or something. I kept eyeing him to see if he was faking it but as far as dear ol’ John was concerned he was perfectly natural. Maybe that was how Alfred trained him at vigilante school. “Master Bruce, if you wish to become Batman you’ll have to drink one hundred cups of premium black coffee a day.”
I poked him about Alfred and he told me he was doing alright. Said he overworked himself while our vigilante was still out there fighting crimes all night. So even when he decided to stay he still made the old man go on a trip to Hawaii. The sand and the sea were really good for mental recovery.
“It’s better than Arkham,” I said.
“Is there something wrong? I thought you liked Arkham.”
“Oh don’t get me wrong, buddy. Arkham is alright, it’s just… I thought I’d like it more, after seeing how unruly everything out here is. But…now that I’m back, I’m no longer sure. Living with the Pact and working with my men, they had their upsides, you know?”
He and I both grew a little silent, I guess it wasn’t about what happened with the Pact, it was what happened afterwards . That fallout between us.
“Hey, Bruce… Could you um… Could you do something for me?”
“What is it?”
“I need you to close your eyes. For just ten seconds.”
“Why?”
“I can’t tell you, or else you wouldn’t let me do it. Can you put a little faith in me? Just a little?”
“... Alright, John. I’m trusting you on this.”
I was a little conservative on the timing. It only took me three seconds to get away, but I asked for ten anyway. I wanted to see if he could trust me that much. I hid myself in a dark corner and watched him count to ten before taking my leave. There was somewhere I had to go. I know with my last failed discharge it’s almost impossible for me to get another day pass so I needed to go see this place one last time before they lock me away for good. And if Bruce never visits me again in my life, I know I’d be in a good place mentally.
The sun was almost setting when I reached the run-down factory site. Funny how much two years’ abandonment can do to a place like this. I sat on a lone rock in the yard and watched the sun slowly drown through the weeds before entering. The grass quivering in the wheeling light, the whole sky was on fire.
It took me a while to find where I last set the wall. I didn’t remember Ace Chemical to be this tall. The vats of toxins were still bubbling even after all these years of distillation, I almost tripped and fell into one when one of the stairs gave in. He found me back in that metal shed at the top of the structure. It only took me less than a minute to get there a year ago, it took me half an hour this time.
It was quite weird, seeing him out of his suit standing in the doorway. He had that sad look on his face like when I first suggested that he was using me.
“They forgot to take away the photos. I didn’t think I’d find them here again, thought they must’ve torched them or something. Was expecting to see an empty wall.”
“John…”
“That one was you and me at the funeral. It was the first one we took. I framed it in the middle so it kinda looked like a center point. Everything else branched out from there.”
“…You know, I wasn’t telling the truth when I said I hated you. It must’ve been pretty obvious. Despite what happened…we still had fun, no? The car getaway, sneaking into the Wayne Building, even the lab break-in. I had such a good time.”
“...I thought coming back here would tell me something more about myself. After all, I seemed the most me when I lost control. Let the beast outta the cage, that’s what Dr. Leland said. But how can I know when I don’t even remember half of what happened that night?”
“...Remember that ditty, Bruce? Who am I? Who am I? I said I’m not the Joker anymore, but if I’m not that violent guy deep down in my heart then who am I now? Some mutilated half-man strolling down the halls of an asylum forever trapped?”
“...Maybe I was a little too ignorant when I said I can live beyond your influence, Bruce. Maybe you’re a part of me that lives outside of my body. I wouldn’t be surprised if I wake up one day to find that you’re just a hallucination all along. Wouldn’t that be a really funny joke?”
“... John.”
“Yes, buddy?”
“I need you to do something for me.”
“What is it?”
“I need you to close your eyes.”
“...okay.”
Okay. Just for three seconds, I thought. Maybe ten. It only took him three to take my hand and put something in it, but I counted to ten anyway. I didn’t want to be too bold with my timing. I felt him watching me as I counted in my heart, and when I reached ten I opened my eyes. There was a jokerrang resting on my palm.
“This is the one that you threw at Tiffany that night. It pierced through her hand and she gave it to me after the doctors extracted it at the hospital.”
“This is the thing that harmed her the most throughout her life. And the thing that harmed me the most after Lucius’ death. This and your breakdown…”
“But even with what happened, I’m still entrusting it to you. I know what it’s like, being lost, not knowing what to do. When my parents died in that alley I thought my whole identity was stripped away from me. And it was. The Bruce Wayne that walked into that place was not the Bruce Wayne that came out of it. Something changed, I couldn’t go back. It took me a long time to build this new me. It was not easy work, you can’t complete it in a day. You have to look at yourself in the mirror and ask: is this really what I want? Will this make me happy ? I knew that putting on the Batsuit and making it my responsibility to help Gotham would make me happy. I knew I was doing the right thing. And when I gave it up I was doing the right thing too. I was doing the right thing for you . But don’t make me your responsibility, John. Despite what has happened between us I want you to be happy too. I don’t want to define who you are. Even if that means for you to go onto a path that I don’t agree with: becoming a person of violence and hatred. At the end of the day, whether you be John, or Joker, or someone else, I don’t care. I just want you to be yourself, and be that person you want to be. That would be enough for me.”
“Can you do that for me, John?”
I can’t remember anything else he said, all I recall is his deep eyes that shone like the face of a calm sea and before I knew it I was kissing him like my life was on the line. We only stopped when my back hit the wall and by then we were both out of breath. He wanted to go somewhere else but I was done waiting and I pushed him against the floor and began clawing at those buttons. Think I popped a few of them off. My vest didn’t end up so great either, I don’t even think I found it afterwards. There were a lot of touching and kissing and groping and biting and my GOD was it savage! And when it stopped being so inhuman I lied there on the control panel and I just couldn’t help but feel so glad that I met him. Laughing about it even. He was laughing too.
“Look buddy, I know I’ve asked you this, but um, have you always been like this? You know, charming and flirtatious on the outside, dark and stoic within?”
“Oh John, I’m anything but stoic.”
“Woo I’d love to see that!”
“I might just grant your wish next time I bring you to the Batcave.”
We laughed some more until our bellies hurt. Then I said something else:
“...You’d really be happy with me becoming whatever I want?”
“If I don't I wouldn’t give up Batman.”
“Even if I invent a Joker venom and kill thousands of people with it?”
“Well if that happens I’d have to stop you. But a part of me would be happy, yes. A very small part.”
“You’re really spoiling me, you know that, buddy?”
That was the best day of my life. Look, I know I derailed from the task and didn’t describe the picture at all but you gotta understand that those men in the photo probably had a lot of crazy folks write about who they were and what they were talking about at that cafe. So I think I get the right to write about who I am. And the fact is that I don’t know yet. But I’m okay with that. I think I’m gonna take it one step at a time. See the world. Maybe cause a little chaos but just a little.
I did end up seeing the Batcave. (I was lucky enough to coax Dr. Leland into giving me another day pass). It was magnificent! He had all the iconic tokens of those villains he fought lined up on the wall. There was Lady Arkham, Cobblepot, Bane, even Harley! And at the end of the line there was me. Joker, getting his own special little pane with the grapple gun and the belt. Since the room is now just for nostalgic purposes I made Bruce put my stuff center stage. Like how I arranged his photos. It was only fair. What happened after that little tour at his secret hideout was even better… But since I’m running out of lines I won’t get into the details here. All I can say is, that was the best table my back has ever had the chance to grace…
We went to the cemetery as well. To visit those agents I killed. I know I called them agency pigs, but thinking back on it now they were just working for Waller. They didn’t know what was going on! Some of what I did was self defence, I didn’t lie, but a part of me still felt bad about it. I asked Bruce if the bad feeling is going to accompany me for the rest of my life, and he said it would. But I’d learn how to cope with it. That’s what he did. So I’m still working on that. Taking my meds, trying not to hurt anymore folks.
Later on I gave starfish John-Doll-1 back to Bruce. He asked me for it one day, actually. Said it holds a special place in his heart. I saw on the news that he placed it on his desk in his office.
“Mr. Wayne, is this artifact a cultural relic? A ragdoll replica of some ancient effigy originated from exotic societies?”
“No, no um… It’s a doll of my boyfriend.”
It was seven years ago when I first arrived at Arkham. No memories, no past. Time just flies by, doesn’t it? And now I might be leaving this place again. I wonder what Harley would think, knowing how much has happened over the years, but we’re still not on speaking terms. Heard she’s working for the agency now in some crazy new pact….something something suicide squad. Deployed in another city killing bad guys. Hope she’s not treated to any cafeteria dining, it wouldn’t end well for the facility. I’m just happy I won’t have to wait another whole week to see my best pal. Life here at Arkham can get pretty unexciting, or did I mentioned that already? Anyway, you must’ve noticed that I’m reaching the end of this paper, and that my answer is ending, and by now you might have a better idea of who I am. Maybe even better than myself.
Doctor’s Note:
Thank you for your very detailed response, John. It was certainly a very well elaborated assumption of Mr. Wayne being Batman. We usually don’t excuse patients that failed to adhere to instructions, but considering you’re a special case and the fact that we don’t currently hold a legal record of your profile, I’m going to take the liberty of signing you out. Don’t worry, your secrets stay safe with me. I’ll be calling your emergency contact to come pick you up. He should be arriving shortly after, based on what I’ve read in your response. Don’t forget to take your meds outside. Take care.
— Joan Leland