Grief and Regret
"James, I have something to tell you," Alfred whispered in James Gordon's ear, snuggling up to him under the covers. "Bruce is alive."
Gordon broke out of Alfred's grasp and stared up at the ceiling, shocked by this news. Dealing with Batman/Bruce Wayne/his soulmate's supposed death had been extremely difficult for him. Alfred was cruel to drop this bombshell on him so casually.
"Did something happen to my wife?" Gordon asked.
He had reached the bargaining stage of grief, so lately he had been praying that God take his estranged wife in exchange for bringing Bruce back to life. All she ever did was sob, no one would miss her anyway.
"I don't know? I just went to Florence and saw Bruce hanging out with Catwoman," Alfred explained.
"Did you know about this, Lucius?" Gordon rolled over to the other side of the bed and shook Lucius Fox awake.
"Yeah, he had auto-pilot on the flying bat-thingy," Lucius mumbled.
"Why am I always the last to know things?" Gordon whined.
Gordon was suddenly angry at himself. He felt like a fool to have felt so emotional over something that was merely a trick.
"Damn!" Gordon beat his fists against his pillow. "If I had known that Bruce was faking his death so he could travel Europe with Catwoman while we mourn Batman as a hero, I never would have read the ending of A Tale of Two Cities at his funeral! It was not a far far better thing that he did, he did not earn those words! Forgive me, Dickens, forgive me!"