A/N: A couple months ago, I wrote this for labuenaventura on livejournal as part of a meme. I rather liked it, so I decided to post it here, just for the hell of it.

It would be so much easier if I could hate you.

By all means, I should hate you.

It's not that you let me die. I forgive you for that, Bruce. Everyone makes mistakes. Everyone fails sometimes. Even you.

It's not that you let me die, Bruce. It's that you let him live. After everything he's done- after what he did to me-

You were my father, damn it. You were supposed to be my father.

Did you even care that I died? Is that case, that empty little monument in the Cave, there because I died, or because you failed? Is that it? Is that why you chose the fucking Joker over me? Is that why you sliced my neck open, rather than let him die? Was I ever more than just a tool to you, to be used for your petty crusade and forgotten once I'd outlived my usefulness? You certainly found more warm bodies willing to fill the position of human shield.

Tim. The Replacement. At first, I resented him, but now, I just pity him. Some little kid, dumb enough to think he was that smart, stupid enough to aspire to be your "partner". I shouldn't have beaten him up, I know. It was just easier to take it out on him then to face who I was really angry at: you. Or me. Or just the world in general. I don't think I even know anymore.

I'm fucked in the head. Still, I guess I already knew that. I mean, look at us. You used me. Gave me false hope. Never saw me as me, as good enough for you, always comparing me to your precious little Dick. You forgot about me, never cared enough to kill the Joker, to do what it takes, to learn anything from my death. And then you replaced me. I have every reason to hate you, Bruce.

And yet, so many days, it's all I can do to keep myself from running back to you, begging for forgiveness. Like I'm the one who fucked up. Like I'm the one who's wrong.

Maybe I'm crazy, Bruce. But I'm not wrong.

So why do I keep feeling like I am? Why do I want so badly to see you again, to have you hold me and tell me that it's all right, that I'm still your son and you'll always love me and always have?

And that makes it so much harder. I'm right. I know I am. I'm sure I am. I have to be. I'm doing the right thing, and it's you who needs to see it. But every time I cross that line, every time I do something I know will upset you, will hurt you just as much as you hurt me, I feel so... conflicted. It feels so good to hurt you, Bruce, but it's so painful to know you've been hurt.

I'm scared, Bruce. A lot more than I like to admit. I was scared, when I died. Hell, I was fucking terrified. The Joker and- and the crowbar and the coffin... I was so afraid. I'm scared every night, when I lay in bed, hating to go to sleep because I know that the moment I do, I'll be there again, broken, battered on the ground, the Joker standing over me, laughing... trapped in that fucking coffin, alone and desperate... lying in a pool of my own blood, feeling my life drain out through my neck, through where you tore me open... I'm scared that I might be wrong, that I might be crazy, and that I don't know what would be worse if I was- having done what I did, or knowing that, after everything he did to me, it's not right to kill the Joker- to not have any justice, any revenge, any control...

Yet, no matter what, I can't hate you, Bruce. No matter how hard I try.

And that scares me most of all.