You wake up one morning believing that what you've seen was just a nightmare. That it was just a joke of your mind, of your fervid get up and the sunlight of the early morning comes in from the window, shy, as if they're asking permission to enter in such a dark bedroom. You begin your usual routine: you wash yourself, brush your hair, get dressed, and have breakfast with a single cup of coffee; you put on your make up, wear the jacket and the shoes ah get out. The problem is that that morning isn't like the others. You have the feeling that something's changed.
Why are you dressing yourself? You ask. Where do you need to go? What do you need to do? Who're you going to see? And the only answers your mind gives you are: "For nothing, nowhere, nothing and no one".
The coffee begins to affect you. You start to realize that what you've seen that night wasn't just a nightmare. It wasn't your imagination. It wasn't your mind. Everything was real, everything has happened for real. The truth overwhelms you. Is weight is unbearable; your head seems surrounded by a cloud of confusion, where every sound is muffled, your view is blurred. And in that moment you feel different emotions. The rage that scratches your breast from the inside. The tears that sting your eyes. The sorrow that takes away your breath. You know that if you remain concealed in that small apartment these feelings will be your only company, maybe along with a bottle of some very strong alcoholic. But then your own pride rebels at this and forbid you to cry over yourself again. So you take your jacket, the black sunglasses and your hat and get finally out.
You walk fast down the streets of a city already awake, or that hasn't really slept. The people pass you by, you don't even notice them. His last words keep ringing in your ears: "No autopilot". He always needed to be the damn hero. And now he was dead. But you're an independent woman, aren't you? You don't need anyone, don't you? You don't bond with anyone. He has been just a colleague, hasn't he?
No, he hasn't. For you it was more than that. But you never admitted it, not to him, not to yourself. And now you find yourself alone in a city to which you don't belong anymore. What's the sense in all of these? What was its point? You walk for hours, your head deep in thoughts, you don't know where are you going. There's only confusion, sense of loss, sense of guilt. You feel lost. What's your purpose now? Before you needed to steal in order to survive. Now you can live a real life. A life without the only person with which you'd have wanted to share it. You've never been good at sharing with people. You've always grabbed what you could; you had your aims and you were determined to reach them at whatever the cost.
Then you met him, the man that with just one gesture has succeeded to put in question you principles. You didn't care who the hell he was, if he was rich or if he had an important name. He has showed to you in both his masks, but without really wearing one. And you fell for him. It happened what you'd have never expected. You fell for the billionaire-playboy-with-a-dark-past's mask. You fell for the brooding vigilante, ready to sacrifice himself in the name of justice. And in the end you fell for the man behind both the masks. The tired man, with a great heart, who was seeking for a life beyond his pain, his past's demons who never let him find his peace, but maybe he didn't even want to find that peace. You sigh exasperated. What happened to the confident woman that never fell for anyone? To the thief, ambiguous woman, whit ambiguous but strong principles, that could hold in her hand every man? Ah! You found the only one you couldn't play with. Then the play shifted into betrayal, but he forgave you. He forgave you. And you couldn't betray him twice. He had faith in you. Despite everything, he always believed in you. Maybe that man knew you better than yourself, what do you say?
You lift your gaze and realize that the city's noises are just a far hum. Around you there's only the green of the trees, the unpaved road under your shoes. At the end of the parkway there are some cars parked, opposite to the house. Or better a manor. Wayne Manor. And once again you remember why that morning was different from the others you lived in your life. His funeral. You couldn't miss it. And yet you couldn't join it. You didn't want to see that annoying detective that, in his own way, resembled him so much. You didn't want to show up to them in your conditions. No one there knew you. You didn't have any motivation to be there. There wasn't space for regret. He was gone now; he chose to make his big exit, the grand finale. Why would you be interested in this now? Why it does still hurts so much? But you own a visit to that reckless hero, don't you? So you hide yourself in the shades of the trees, right behind the little gate that surrounded a little cemetery.
Three graves, each carrying the same name: Wayne. Little do you know about his life and his past, but there, in front of those graves, everything has more sense. "I see a beautiful city and a brilliant people rising from this abyss." Commissioner Gordon's words keep buzzing in your mind and they seem long to remain there. Your porcelain mask that you wore till this moment is near to break. And you have never been the sentimental type. "I see the lives for which I lay down my life, peaceful, useful, prosperous and happy. I see that I hold a sanctuary in their hearts, and in the hearts of their descendants, generations hence." Oh, the people of Gotham will proudly remember their savior. But you don't belong to Gotham. Not anymore. And how will you remember him? With rage? Resentment? Hate? Love? The porcelain mask cracks more and more. "It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known." The commissioner closes the book in his hands.
After all he's been through he deserves a long rest. He did more than he had to. He did what no one, not even you, had the courage to do. You lift your gaze on them. The silence reigns. Only the hard breath broken by sobs of the old butler, who remains a moment longer in front of the grave. While everyone is leaving, only the young detective turns. He sees you. A shade behind a tree, but you're visible anyway. Gravely he nods a leaves. While you're leaving you hear the words he's having with the commissioner. "I can't stand it. The injustice. I mean, no one will ever know who saved this city!" – "Oh they know who did. It was Batman" -Wise man the commissioner. Batman has now reach his aim. He has become the ultimate symbol of justice and hope for a whole city. And he didn't ask anything in return.
Your gaze longs a moment more on that little cemetery. Thomas and Martha Wayne. His parents. He never overcame the loss. But he honored their memory. They should have been great parents, to inspire such compassion into a simple child's heart. A child that in the end wasn't that simple. But that now wasn't there anymore. So you return to your apartment, to your home. You have the possibility of a new life. But you don't want to start fresh. Not now. Non after losing so much. What was the point in restarting, now that he wasn't there? You has never been good at letting ad idol inspire you, you never followed an ideal. You certainly wouldn't start right now. No. The only thing you need now would be him, but he's not there. That's it, he cannot return back. He would have wanted to have another opportunity for a new life, but he didn't, he couldn't. As soon as you close the door, you know that you mask is breaking even more. But suddenly someone knocks on the door. You have just took off your hat, the shoes and the jacket. You open the door and find in front of you the detective. Young and worried. What do you want? You ask. There's no place for ceremonies. You don't want that someone can see how you are now. You just want him to leave, that everyone leaves you at peace. You have enough of people.
"I saw you before" There's no need for further explanations. Inside you just want to scream "get out!" but you don't do it. No, your porcelain mask is leaving you, while suffocating you. You need to get free from it. Now. You move away from the door and let him come inside the apartment. You share no words, you just watch each other. You always thought that detective to be a younger version of him. Maybe a bit carefree, but so similar…
You can't stand this silence anymore:" What do you want?" you repeat. You believe, you hope that your voice won't betray your emotions, but you know that it's not so. You lost your self-control when you saw that grave. You understood that there was nothing left. Everything faded in that terrible instant. The dream of a new life. He was dead; he left the world like a hero. And as every hero, he was damaged. And only in death heroes can find their peace they deserve. "The better rest". Your world has faded. His was completed. The mask breaks. It cracks; you feel it slipping from your face, carried away by your tears that begin to flow from your eyes.
The detective looks down as he sees them. He had seen you in another moment of weakness. He had just prevented you from escaping. At that time you were running away from your mistake, which had turned into a nightmare. You could not put aside the memory from your mind, from the hands the blood, from the heart the weight of that betrayal. But he did not know. Now it is different. Back then you still had hope, and, strange to say, it was lying right with the determination of the boy. You hoped that he could find him.
The flow of tears is now unstoppable. Your body starts to shake. You feel yourself being squeezed in a hug. At first you think to start away, run away and hide. But then you stay there, let him comfort you like a child. But you do not cry all your tears. You are a woman with a certain attitude, of course! You do not show weakness in that way! You regain some control, try to dry your tears, suppress your sobs, and breathe slowly.
"Tomorrow morning, if you go to the office of notary in the Wayne Tower, there is something for you in his will" - "What?" - "I do not know. Alfred told me. "-" All right" you whisper. You fall away from him. You look him in the eyes. You are determined now. Determined to move forward. And mad at yourself for showing such weakness. For allowing your emotions to control you in this way. Blake knows, understands you. With a nod greets you and walks out the door you left open. You sigh and think I do not want to go to in the Wayne Tower. You're a thief. You stole his car, his footprints. The pearl necklace of her mother. It was a beautiful necklace. If only you had known what it meant to him, you would have stolen everything except that. It was too personal; it was a thing of his and his alone. You did not have to wear it at all. Maybe you're paying the consequences of that insulting breach now. It is evening. You're not hungry, you're just terribly tired. Your cat Isis paws casually around the room. You sit down heavily on the bed and she crouches near you. You absently stroke her, while lying down and slowly, you fall asleep.
The sun that pours in the large windows of the Wayne Tower hurts your eyes. You lower the head, looking at the shoes, which proceed with a firm step into the hall to the office. You see Blake standing near the entrance. A large glass table surrounded by chairs in black leather is flooded with papers and files. You come in just in time to hear the lawyer say that the Wayne Manor was given to the city. It will be used as a home for orphans. The great plague of Bruce. He had never overcome his loss.
In the office there is also the butler Alfred and Mr. Fox. Blake just nods at you and you stay not far from him, in the doorway. At one point the lawyer sees that you came and gestures to you and the detective to get closer. You see Blake take a bag. The secretary gives you a white envelope. You examine it in your hands, there is no marked name. It seems empty. You look around. The looks of the others are for you. You open the envelope, the curiosity is too strong. There is only a plane ticket and an address, along with some cash. You look at the ticket. Rome Fiumicino. Puzzled you look also at the paper with the address. Florence. You frown, confused. You move your gaze upon the secretary to demand an explanation, but you see that she is talking to the notary. "It is better to check again, we cannot state lost a string of pearls."
Something clicks in your mind. A string of pearls and a trip to Italy. Suddenly everything seems so absurdly clear. You look around. The three men who were at the funeral observe you with curiosity. What might have left Bruce Wayne to the thief who stole him almost everything? You smile to yourself. Now you're determined. In fact you are more hopeful. Perhaps the dream of a new life is not so impossible. You weight the envelope that is now closed. The smile on your lips is accentuated. You stick the envelope in your purse quietly, settle in your coat, the hat and pull out the black sunglasses. You call to the secretary: "thank you" you say. Still smiling you wave to the two men and the young, and you walk away with a firm step towards your home. You pack your bags quickly, putting in the first things that you can grab. You get the computer and for the first time since he gave it to you, you use the clean slate. You get a new name. Then you get out of the house with the trolley and the plane ticket to Italy. For the first time you feel happy. The dream of a new life. It has started. Now it is reality.