A/N: Hello everybody, here is my first story on Batman. It is set just after TDK, when the movie ends that is where my fic begins. Actually I tried to be the closest possible to the movie, and I really am fond of description (feelings, manners or places), so there are more text than dialogue in the first chapters. But no worries, there will be more action afterwards. I tried to dive into the characters and their personality. Anyway, I also like putting some sort of metaphors in each chapter, so the titles may not tell you anything but it can help you figure out how some sentences can make you understand the way I wrote it. So hope you will enjoy it, and sorry if some phrases don't make any sense, I am French and English really isn't the same (dictionary aren't always very helpful). So here ends the Author Notes (sorry for the big speech, but I wanted you to understand my purposes.)

Disclaimer: Don't own anything, even if I'd like to have as much creativity as Nolan.

Holding on Emptiness

Chapter 1: Fitting so well

He drove in the streets of this city he loved on his motorbike. The pale lights of the night were dashing near him, as he fastened more. He was holding a burden graved in his heart, a sacrifice he did to Gotham and to its people. He drove absent-mindedly, but conscious enough to avoid the cars passing by. His legs hurt from the fall, and his heart hurt from the torment. Pedestrians looked at him surprised, as sunset was going to rise. But he didn't have the strength to watch their eyes; he knew he would disappoint them. That was the price the Dark Knight had to pay for appeasement, to finally reach the dawn the city needed. It was the silent but heavy grief he had to carry with him all days and nights long, it was his secret that ate him minute after minute.

He finally reached the dock owned by Wayne Enterprise. Not far from the entrance, a sad red container stood. Far in the distance dark clouds were menacing Gotham. The night was ending but darkness would remain where it was. Most of the people would think that it was as if the day was mourning the White Knight. But for him it was just an excuse to stay inside: inside his mind, inside his heart withdrawing into himself.

Batman unlocked the container and stepped inside with his motorbike. As soon as he walked in, the elevator started its descent, diving the little space into darkness. All the lights of the basement were off, it had always calmed him. But this time it just permitted him to avoid facing the truth. As the elevator reached the floor with a clang, he slowly dragged the motorbike to one of the wall where he let it lean. Pushing a precise button on the wall, the room lightened slowly, it seemed like the lights were drabber than usually, it just fell on the darkness of his suit like water on an umbrella. He pushed an other button and a table appeared from the floor. Taking off his cowl, he kept it in his hands as he looked at the frozen expression of Batman's upper face. It looked determined, but restless, he would get peace to this city but he will never reach it.

He remembered what Rachel had said to him, that if one day the city won't need Batman anymore she would be with him. But would this day come when he will stop needing him? Batman was almost his other half, the other Bruce Wayne. Maybe even his real side, the one he had always wanted to be. He looked again at the dark painted cowl; it reflected perfectly the feeling inside of him. Restless like if he considered that he would never be at peace, would never estimate his duty fully completed. And above all he would never become a full time shallow billionaire.

This thought pulled out some buried memories. Rachel had always been the only woman that held his heart. Now that she dropped it into emptiness, he felt as if cement had filled it: too heavy for anyone to hold it.

Bruce started to take off the bat suit, the pain coming from his leg and his chest started to hurt once more. He winced a little but he just couldn't sleep with it. He finally managed to free himself after minutes of fight with it and changed himself into his previous clothes. Before wearing his shirt he looked at the bruise that Harvey's gunshot made on his flesh. It was turning blue as the pain started to fade. Bruce was lucky Dent had shot him just where the plate was. Then he put his shirt on and lay on a dark couch that he pulled off the wall. Finally he turned off the lights. He preferred it that way, darkness was comforting: you couldn't see and be seen by anybody or anything. He felt tiredness wrap him into a bittersweet sleep as his broken body released the tense it held during all these hours. A nightmare was pulling him into a fog, as disturbing as this night had been.


He just stood in the middle of the room, his hands lying at his sides. His dark orange clothes contrasted with the grey of the place, surrounded by bars and brick walls. He was mumbling some inaudible words, with his high pitched voice and his fingers were frenetically ticking on his legs. "That's a nice place to crash in." He looked around with a passive but smart look, wearing his static red smile while nodding. His previous cell was bigger and only surrounded by bars, here the walls just seemed to come closer second after second. It was a funny thing though for him. Nonetheless he had a great view on the sky as the clouds kept running over Gotham through his window. He made a turn on himself to visit a little bit his new home. "That's what you call a… cozy place." He licked his made-up bottom lip in satisfaction. Then he sat down and stayed there for a moment.

"Aahh Batsy, look where you've put me..." Even if it would have been a sad sentence to say for anybody, his voice just sounded amused. "But don't worry, Little Joker has lots of other cards to play."

Actually even if Double Face hadn't succeeded with what the Joker expected, he had managed to do a little something to Batman. He knew exactly what happened when he saw on TV, that the man had been, of course according to people, killed by the Dark Vigilante as well as the two cops. "Like a brave hero he sacrificed himself…" He said with an ironic tone, imitating the one used in fairy tales. At this thought the Joker's smile grew bigger and became a loud laugh.

While he was still a kid the Joker was waiting to see this hope that all the adults talked about. The one that said: before adversity people gather to become stronger. He waited all his childhood, but it never came along. In fact he always knew it was wrong and wanted the world to face it, to admit it, and to act it. He never lost his faith in humanity, actually he never got it. And he had become like his reality, insane and profiteer. Killing: it was just a hobby, he didn't want to kill the Batman, he was funny after all. Even if he enjoyed it, it was not a necessity. What he really wanted was to make people act with genuineness, like how Mother Nature created them. He was close last time, but because of one man whose childhood had been flooded with golden words about humanity, he missed it. But not totally, from the Joker's point of view in fact he won something more important. What if he managed to engrave a deep scar in the world's most hoping man?

Anyway the only way he would be able to make the world wake with its real face was to make the Dark Knight collapse. Every man in this world was corruptible; all you have to do is found its weakness. Then the Joker arrived at a conclusion: under this mask there was a man of flesh and blood, and he was going to make him understand that he was a simple human: a man with weakness.

The Joker stood up in his madness, already pleased with his idea. His fingers were still ticking frenetically as if he couldn't bear standing in one position for a few minutes. He needed action and needed it now. He stood in front of the window and watched with contemplation the city. His face always insane with its big smile, but this time it was not a fake one. He looked ahead and licked his lips. His eyes kept looking from one spot to an other one as he laughed in his craziness.