Batman's heart was pounding as he waited for the DNA results to be processed through the Batcomputer. It had taken a couple days to rebuild the machine, and transferring the data over had taken a few more days, and still wasn't complete. And annoyingly, little glitches appeared from time to time when Batman accessed the files – he would open Two-Face's file and see information about the Riddler. Alfred was trying to look into the database error, which took even more time.

Bruce had barely slept in all that time – he had just lain awake in bed, wondering what on earth he was going to do in the horrific possibility that the Joker was his brother.

"Family or not…it doesn't matter," he told Alfred. "He's a criminal. I can't have any sympathy with a criminal."

"So you would disregard your father's wishes?" asked Alfred, gently.

Bruce nodded slowly. "I…I don't think I have a choice, if it is him. I can't just…accept him as my brother. It's impossible."

Alfred was silent. "For what it's worth…I don't believe Jack Napier murdered his mother," he murmured.

"Why not?" asked Bruce. "Doesn't seem out of character for a criminal."

"The Napier family…visited Wayne Manor for a Christmas party once," said Alfred, slowly. "While they were here, Mr. Napier, that is, Mary's husband…lost his temper. He struck her…and the boy Jack Napier rushed to defend her. And then he struck him. He treated them both appallingly, hitting them and calling them the most dreadful names…it would not surprise me if the husband was the one who killed his wife. The son was hardly likely to defend his mother and then murder her a few days later. I assume he killed his adoptive father as vengeance for her murder."

Bruce was silent. He imagined for a moment what it might have been like, as Jack Napier, to see his mother die at the hands of the man he believed to be his father. He couldn't conceive of that kind of pain and rage, although he could certainly understand the pain at a parent meeting a violent death.

"What's your point, Alfred?" he asked, quietly.

"My point is if the Joker is this Jack Napier, perhaps you can understand a little of where his madness comes from," said Alfred. "Perhaps you can help him. You both lost your parents very young, sir, to a terrible crime. You both know what that does to a mind. You know how utterly alone you feel..."

"It didn't turn me into a murdering, psychotic maniac," retorted Bruce.

"You're hardly leading a normal life though, sir," said Alfred, gently. "And if that treatment was normal at the hands of his adoptive father, is it any wonder the boy turned to crime? Pain and violence was obviously all he knew. He never had a home like you, sir, a safe place with two loving parents…"

"Two loving parents who were taken from me," snapped Bruce. "At least Napier never knew what that was like."

"No. He never knew what love was to lose it," said Alfred, quietly. "Or maybe he did. I don't know, sir. And neither do you. You don't know any of the facts. I told your father that his affair with Mrs. Napier was unwise, but he wouldn't listen to me. I hope you do listen to me in regards to her son. If the Joker is Jack Napier, your father's child…you have a duty to try to help him, sir."

"I keep putting him back in Arkham to help him," replied Bruce. "He doesn't want to be helped."

"Does that stop you from trying, sir?" asked Alfred, gently.

Bruce sighed. "Let's just wait for the results," he muttered.

Now as the data finished analyzing, Bruce's mind was racing with the horrible possibility that he was going to find out the truth, and it wouldn't be the truth he wanted. He knew what Alfred had said was right, and he knew that if it turned out the Joker was his brother, as difficult as it would be for him, he would have to take care of him. He would have to trust him. It was probably suicide, but he couldn't do anything else in good conscience.

The computer beeped. "Analysis complete," it said. Bruce opened the file, his heart stopping in dread. And then starting again in relief when he saw the result.

"Negative," he whispered, smiling slowly. "It's negative."

He let out the breath he'd been holding with a cry of joy. "Alfred, it's not him!" he cried, happily. "It's not him! Oh, thank God!"

"Yes, indeed, sir," agreed Alfred. "And of course I'm very happy with the result. But this rather presents a new kind of problem for you. You must find out what's happened to Jack Napier."

"That's not a problem, Alfred," sighed Bruce, standing up. "After this, nothing is a problem. God, that's a lucky break! I don't know what I would have done if it'd been him."

"You would have done the right thing, sir," replied Alfred. "I hope."

"I hope so too, Alfred," said Bruce, nodding. "But I'm glad we'll never know."

He headed for the door, intending to change into the Batsuit and tell Joker the good news. "Hang on, sir," said Alfred, staring at the screen. "It says the sample you've analyzed has been matched in the database as that of Harley Quinn."

Bruce sighed. "We really need to get those glitches under control," he muttered. "Work on that while I'm gone, will you, Alfred?"

…

"Little bro!" exclaimed Joker, beaming at Batman as he entered the cell block. "How ya doing today, blood of my blood?"

"Joke's over, Joker," retorted Batman.

"Well, maybe for you, Batsy!" giggled Joker.

"Hey, Bats, is that true about you and J being brothers?" asked Two-Face. "He's been telling everyone that, but it's a gag, right?"

Batman glared at Joker. "I thought I asked you not to spread it around," he muttered.

"Too good a gag to keep to myself, little bro!" chuckled Joker.

Batman once again mentally thanked God for not having to trust the Joker with his real identity, if this was how well he could keep a secret. "Well, it gives me great pleasure to announce to everyone in this cell block that the Joker is not my brother," he said, loudly. "I have the DNA evidence to prove it. So you can drop all of this little bro stuff right now."

Joker shrugged, smiling. "Still, it was a good joke while it lasted, wasn't it?"

"I knew it was B.S.," retorted Two-Face. "Along with all that crap about J being Jesus."

"Yeah, I knew dark, brooding, and handsome couldn't be related to the skinny, pale clown freak," agreed Poison Ivy. "It just wasn't possible. You're losing your edge, J."

"Anyway, I just stopped by to let you know the good news," said Batman, turning to go. "But I have some work to do finding my real brother, so if you'll excuse me..."

"Oh, I knew it was a joke all along, Batsy!" giggled Joker. "I knew Jack Napier was dead!"

"How?" asked Batman, turning back.

"Simple, really. I killed him," he said, grinning. "I do vaguely remember the guy – bit of a loser, really. Trust him to be your brother. Jack Napier was a two-bit thug, a pathetic gun for hire. Nothing to be proud of. So I killed him."

Batman studied him. "How did he die?" he asked.

"He took a little tumble," murmured Joker. "And fell down, down, down, down, down, until…splat!" he said, clapping his hands together. "Bye-bye, Jackie!"

"You killed my brother?" asked Batman, softly.

"Yep," said Joker, nodding. "Bet you wanna make me pay real good for that, huh, Batsy? Bet you wanna avenge yourself on the guy who spilled your brother's blood. Your blood."

"I don't believe in vengeance," murmured Batman. "Only justice."

He turned away again. "At least Jack is with my father now," he murmured. "I hope he found the peace in death he could never find in life."

"Amen to that!" giggled Joker. "So I should kill people more often to help them out, is that what you're saying?"

The cell block door slammed shut, and Joker continued to laugh hysterically. "Good news, Harl," he said, sitting down next to her on the bed. "You ain't related to Bats."

"You really sure you don't wanna find out if you are, Mr. J?" asked Harley. "I'm sure the doctors here could analyze your DNA…"

"Oh, I already know, Harley girl," he chuckled, kissing her forehead. "Maybe not with facts and science and truth, but I do know nonetheless."

He chuckled, lying down and putting his hands over his head. "Ah, the things I do for family! Switching blood samples and lying and pretending I can remember killing a guy I don't even remember! Still, I guess my batty little bro is worth it. I can't wait to see him again!"

…

"I know your father would be pleased about this, sir," said Alfred, as he held an umbrella over Bruce Wayne's head. They were standing in the rain in the cemetery beside his parents' grave. Right next to the monument was a small plaque newly set in the ground which read:

Jack Wayne

Hope you've found your way home at last.

Rest in peace, my brother.

Bruce nodded slowly. "I hope so, Alfred. But that's another family member I've lost to crime in Gotham."

He was silent. "The one positive thing about the possibility of Jack being the Joker was that…it meant I had a family member who was still alive. However twisted and distorted he was. But now I know…I'm truly alone. The last of the Waynes."

"You're not alone, sir," said Alfred, putting a hand on his shoulder. "There is family that is joined by blood. And then there is family that is joined by stronger ties than that."

Bruce nodded again, forcing a smile. "I hope he's with my parents now, anyway," murmured Bruce, staring at the stone. "In a place without darkness and night and violence and crime."

He put a single rose down on the plaque, and then turned away. "Rest in peace, Jack," he murmured. "Wherever you are, my brother, I hope you're happy."

And back in Arkham Asylum, the Joker smiled.

The End