A/N: So the story behind this is I'm evil and shouldn't be allowed to think because it results in heartbreaking things. I'd say enjoy, but I cried while writing this, so you probably won't. Obviously set in an Alternate Universe.
The wind was warm as it brushed by him, warmer than it should have been for a day in early March. He appreciated this fact. It was as if Nature had decided to give him a nice reprieve, to give him a day to visit her. It had been so long since he had visited her.
He cleared his throat and straightened his tie – he had always felt the need to dress up, to impress when he visited her – feeling nervous, even though he knew it was silly to feel nervous. He'd done this multiple times. There was nothing to feel nervous about. He always felt nervous, though, whenever he went to visit her.
He clutched the bouquet of roses tighter – white, her favorite as he had found out, the color symbolizing purity of love – and walked up to her, standing just before her.
He sighed, and smiled sadly.
"Helloooo, Evelyn," He murmured.
She wouldn't answer, she never would. She was dead, six feet under the ground, and he was facing her headstone, but he liked to pretend.
"I know, it's been a while since I've come to see you. I couldn't help that. I've been busy," He paused. "I'm up to twenty-seven now. I think you'd be proud of me. More people freed from the boring, tedious existence they're forced through."
He knelt before her- before her headstone.
"I brought you flowers. A dozen pure white roses. There aren't any flower shops in Gotham that carry white roses, so I had to go to Central City to find some. You would probably tell me that it wasn't worth the trouble. That having me here was all you'd want."
He gently set the flowers down, his shoulders starting to shake with unshed tears.
He sniffled and put his hands against the headstone, lovingly tracing the letters and numbers etched into it.
"I made a mistake," he croaked. "I shouldn't have- you weren't like them, were you? You weren't like them."
He swallowed back his sobs and clenched his eyes shut, trying to force himself to stop remembering.
But he still remembered.
"You weren't a zombie."
The curl of her caramel colored hair.
"You...knew things."
The twitch of her peach colored lips as she tried not to laugh.
"You knew more than I did."
The twinkle in her eyes when he brought her white roses for the first time.
"Why did you let me do it?"
The breathy moans she couldn't contain as he made love to her.
"Why did you let me kill you?"
The soft, gentle touch of her hands as she cleaned the blood from his skin.
"I didn't liberate you...you were already liberated."
The press of her lips to his shoulder as she wrapped her arms around him and held him close the first night he'd liberated someone.
"I killed you."
The strength in her voice as she told him she trusted him.
"I miss you."
The warm puffs of her breath as she spoke her last words.
"I love you too."