Welcome to the third and final installment in this one-shot turned mini-trilogy. My apologies on getting it out so late, but I've been working on other ideas as well as finishing up my main story on fimfiction. Busy times for me, in other words. If you've made this far, I'm glad you've enjoyed it, and I hope I don't let you down with this finish. I re-wrote it a couple times, and found it hard some days to add on to it. In the end, I decided that one ending wasn't enough, so I made two. You are free to read them both through and decide, or, for the more daring among you, simply pick one and run with it :3

I didn't label either ending as "good" or "bad" or any such thing, but nevermind the endings now. I hope you all enjoy the final piece of the story, and I hope your day and/or night goes well. Stay awesome guys and gals. (I still don't own anything except far off dreams and the ambition to make them true...no Batman or DC. I know, it makes me sad too.)


Welcome back to Gotham's Greatest Mysteries! Exactly seven years ago, at this very spot, Bruce Wayne died. An explosion decimated Wayne Manor and charred two bodies, those of Bruce Wayne and his butler, beyond recognition. Dental records confirmed the identities of both victims, and a two year long trial was held, trying to determine who exactly killed the Batman.

In the end, nobody was found guilty, and to this day the exact truth of that incident has eluded Gotham City. However, Batman himself was not the only lead officials had. After the revelation of Bruce Wayne's secret identity, searches were conducted on Wayne's closest associates, including Richard Grayson, Timothy Drake, Lucius Fox, and current Mayor James Gordon's daughter, Barbara Gordon, among a few others.

While they all gave bits and pieces away, none of them would confirm or deny knowing anything about the Wayne Manor explosion, nor would any of them go on to reveal much about their lives as crime fighters. Currently, no one can be sure of the whereabouts of Richard Grayson, who seems to have simply vanished from the face of the Earth, however, both Tim Drake and Barbara Gordon have retired from their roles, and are soon set to become Mr. and Mrs. Drake.

"That life is behind us, we followed him until he died, literally. We remember him of course, but we're content to move on." Drake said in a recent interview.

Meanwhile, Lucius Fox inherited much of the spoils of the now defunct Wayne Enterprises, and started his own company, Foxteca. Of all the Batman's former allies, it could be said that Fox remains the most conservative about Wayne's exploits. He, more than the others, avoids talking about the Batman and his past involvement with Bruce Wayne, to the point of enacting a personal policy of leaving an interview if the subject comes up.

On the other side of things, the notorious members of Batman's 'Rogue's Gallery' have remained mostly under control. Former Commissioner Gordon attributes this to "something the Batman left behind for us" and has never bothered to say anything more about it. Whatever the Batman's legacy has been, it is undeniable that it keeps his former enemies under control.

Since his death, The Penguin, Two-Face, Scarecrow, and Catwoman, have never attempted any sort of illegal activity, and those that were captured on Batman's final night remain in Blackgate Penitentiary. Other noted Batman foes such as the Mad Hatter and Killer Croc have remained off the radar for years, and may well be as dead as Batman himself.

Though we know Batman did not have a penchant for killing, a few of his foes did, by some means, die over the course of his career. Poison Ivy has officially been reported deceased by the GCPD, and the body of Roman Sionis -the Black Mask- was found soon after Wayne's death. Also noteworthy is the fact that Edward Nigma, the Riddler, has been in a coma for six years now.

But we all know who's name comes to mind when we think of Batman's fiercest enemy. When one thinks about Gotham's biggest threat, it must certainly be this man. In all of its history, there has never been a more infamous figure plaguing our city. After the commercial, we'll talk about the only man Batman has (supposedly) killed: The Joker. We'll return shortly, Gotham, stay tuned!

The feed cut to the commercial break, and Vicki Vale's figure was replaced by experimental drug advertisement. Before anything could be said of the experimental medicine, the television was turned off and the screen faded to a dead black.

"Master Bruce…?" Alfred replied from the chair, attempting to stand, but unable to will himself up.

"They've all moved on, we must too," Bruce Wayne replied as he walked over and took the counterpart seat beside Alfred. Bruce handed his oldest friend a bowl of soup, and picked up a book for himself.

"You know, there was a time when you serving me meals was unthinkable," Alfred noted somewhat solemnly as he pulled the blanket more tightly around him and reached the bowl.

"There was a time when being Batman no more was unthinkable. I guess we all have to live with changes," Bruce answered as he found his page.

"Sometimes I wonder if you've truly parted from that life."

"Don't worry, I parted with it. I had to...to save myself."

"I can't help but wonder how our city is holding up after all this time. With Master Drake and his mistress no longer serving the mission, and Master Richard gone away for the time being, well….your old foes cannot remain docile forever, can they?"

"It's all in the Knightfall Protocol, Alfred, they'll be kept in prison until they've served their time or meet their natural ends. I made sure of it."

"Makes one question why we didn't try this sooner," Alfred jested as he blew on the first spoonful and ate it with a shaking hand.

"We have other friends too, and in my stead, they're watching over Gotham," Bruce assured, still not taking his eyes out of the book.

The Joker: The Clown Prince of Crime, the Ace of Knaves, and the undeniable opposite of Batman. For years the two were at odds, battling at almost every twist and turn, and Gotham always felt their clashing.

However, their battles came to an end when Hugo Strange, another of Batman's now deceased rivals, created the infamous Arkham City, an incident that any Gothamite will remember. Rumored to be sick and dying from a previous encounter with Batman, The Joker was thought to be dead or as close to it as possible the night Bruce Wayne was incarcerated. As it happened, that very same night was the night The Joker died.

He was cremated a few months afterwards, but it seems that he earned quite the reputation before leaving us. Like Elvis, supposed Joker sightings in Gotham City have sprung up every so often, but to this day the GCPD denies such claims, and they are seen as nothing more than falsities in the name of attention. And yet, crime may be drastically reduced, but it has not disappeared. Maybe The Joker's legacy has found its mark after all, through that one fact.

Of course, how can we forget about his lover in madness, Harleen Quinzel, or as she is better know, Harley Quinn? She too resides in Blackgate, in the reopened Arkham wing. Like other old foes, she remains in captivity and serves as the biggest reminder of her boyfriend's existence. According to reports she has attempted suicide on more than one occasion, and we discovered that she has had at least one neck surgery since Batman's death; now and again, she is transferred out of Blackgate for "routine outings for the betterment of her health". Nothing more could be scrounged up on her many trips out of Blackgate, but official reports assure us that they are harmless, and that she has never gotten close to escaping.

But what do we know of the relationship between the vile clown and the Dark Knight protector of our city? Like the false sightings of the Joker, over the years a number of conspiracy theories have arisen that Batman and the Joker were actually working together for some time. Proponents of these theories suggest that by not killing The Joker for so long, they allowed themselves to be happy, in a way, feeding their sociopathic needs to do battle with one another while Gotham itself became a casualty of their war. But then, that also raises the question of why Batman would kill the Joker in Arkham City.

It's entirely possible that Joker was beyond saving, and by killing him, Batman was doing his alleged partner a favor. Yet, the Joker's demise and Batman's involvement with it is merely the tip of the iceberg in debunking these theories. Having been saved by Batman more than once myself, I will attest that they were not partners, regardless of whether or not you believe the Joker was murdered or simply succumbed to an illness.

The evidence against these conspiracies is overwhelming, so I'll just cover a few reasons why they may have been mortal enemies and possibly respected adversaries, but never partners.

The set turned off suddenly, and the man sitting in the armchair moved to the window. He felt the urge to break right through it, but denied himself that luxury, opting instead to smash his fist into his hand. The echo stirred his partner at the kitchen table, who wheeled herself over to him.

"Tim? What's the matter?"

"This city….it won't let go of him."

"In case you've forgotten, neither have we. We might not be Oracle and Red Robin anymore, but we haven't given up hope. We'll find Bruce and Alfred, just be patient and trust Dick. He's doing his best to find them as we speak. You know that."

"I know, but….I can't shake this feeling, Barb. We agreed never to tell the world the truth about him, and even though he seemed okay the last time I saw him….well, I just can't shake this feeling. He was infected just like all the others, and no amount of willpower can cure something like that."

"Are you trying to say there's no cure for The Joker?"

"Yes."

"Bruce is the strongest of us all. He's the one person in the world I'd trust completely to overcome that disease. He's beaten Joker countless times before, he can do it again. I'm sure that's why he's away, he's just making sure the Joker is completely gone."

"But it's been seven years! And what about Alfred? Why take Alfred with him?"

"Knowing our faithful butler, it was probably more on Alfred's own insistence that he went along with Bruce. You've just gotta have faith, Tim."

"Maybe I have none left to give…"

Barbara tugged on her fiance's shirt and brought him down to her level to embrace him in a hug. He returned the affection with a soft smile, and they gazed out the window as the sun began to disappear behind the horizon. She was smiling, but his face was more unsure than anything else, at least it was at first. But in time, he grew a smile that matched her own.

"Alfred? Alfred, I'm going out for a little bit," Bruce whispered into the dark bedroom, flipping on half of the lights to see his oldest friend quietly sleeping under the covers. Bruce flipped the lights back off and gently shut the door, going on with his business.

He almost grabbed the coat off the hanger by the door, but caught himself and quickly stepped into his own bedroom first. His bathroom was smaller than the one in Alfred's room, but he didn't mind, and pulled out a razor and shaving cream without much thought. In the years since leaving Gotham, Bruce had adopted many of his once feigned habits, and drinking was one of them. He didn't know why, but he took his first glass of scotch without any reason or desire to have it.

He was no alcoholic, but there was seldom a day that went by when he didn't have at least a glass or two of something. He poured himself a shot and downed it in a second, afterwards letting the miniature cup fall to the counter. Rather than go straight to shaving, he breathed in deeply, and found himself coughing something fierce. When he stared into the mirror, something else looked back.

"Look at you," Bruce whispered to the mirror, "look at you've become."

"You did this to yourself," It replied with innocence.

"Maybe…"

"Not maybe, definitely. He was right."

"Who's 'he'?"

"Nevermind. It's not important."

"Why're you here? What do you want with me?"

"I only want to see you happy. You're not so happy anymore."

"Living without a purpose does that to you...I used to do something important. Now I wait on an old man who I barely have the courage to face and go on dates that end in rejection, cheap sex, or offers to get wasted and drugged up. Why should I be happy?"

"Maybe you'd be happier if you actually enjoyed yourself in retirement. Try a hobby, try changing up your life, try something to make the pain go away. It worked last time."

"What should I do?"

"Go to a show instead of a bar. Rent a boat. Buy a ticket to a concert. I don't know, but you can figure it out. You're sharp, even in your weakened state."

"Who are you?"

"Does it matter?"

"I'd like to know."

"Suppose I tell you who I am and you don't like it."

"Ignorance isn't always bliss."

"Well, nevermind who I am. It's not important."

"Are you me? Am I going crazy after all?"

"Nevermind."

"I want to know."

"I can't tell you."

"Are you...The Joker?"

"Who's The Joker?"

"I don't know...I thought maybe you were."

"No. Not me."

"Oh…"

"Well, you've got to get ready. You are going out tonight, aren't you?"

"Yeah….yeah…"

Bruce resigned himself to applying the shaving cream when the thing in the mirror faded away. The funny thing was, he didn't mind it existing. A lot of people might have been freaked out by something like that, scared that they were losing their minds or afraid they were being watched. Bruce took it like a needle, barely taking note of it at all. He did that to a lot of things nowadays.

He applied the after shave when he had finished, dabbed on a touch of deodorant, and walked to the front door. He listened to hear Alfred sleeping, and upon confirming that the older man was still resting, he took out a note from his pocket and taped to the door for his friend. He went out like the soft breeze, and was gone like he had never been there.

...

Though intent on picking himself up and figuratively dusting himself off to rid his mind of the depression plaguing it, Bruce had no idea at all where he was going. He walked right by the bar he usually stopped in, and it wasn't long before he found himself in the seediest part of the town. He seldom visited this area, unless he'd hooked up with a girl who lived in these parts. He couldn't imagine what he'd do, but something was drawing him ever closer to the heart of the troubled district.

He passed by a strip club, a shady marketplace, a largely abandoned plaza filled with graffiti, and several housing facilities, but nothing caught his eye. The river flowing through the South American town was to his right, and on his left, he could find nothing of interest.

So he wandered on, unmoved by any of the temptations that came into his view, slowly walking on through the town. He passed by several people who gave him nasty looks, but he pretended not to notice, and paid them no mind. He pondered crossing the river, going out into the more untamed regions of the land, but decided that he'd keep along and see if anything jumped out at him first. As it so happened, something did.

He found a tattoo parlor, and promptly found his feet walking to go behind the establishment and into the alley. He had hardly rounded the corner when a young man with a knife stepped in front of him, and it didn't escape his notice that a friend of the young man had stepped up behind him.

"What can I help you boys with?" Bruce inquired, almost naively.

"Give us your wallet, your valuables, and your keys."

"I'm sorry?"

"Are you stupid? We're taking everything you've got, and unless you start cooperating, we're gonna leave you for dead."

Something in the man's voice set off bells in Bruce's head, and he slowly reached into his pocket, garnering smiles from the two robbers. He felt around and grasped what he had just realized he was carrying, and with speed he hadn't known still existed within him, he pulled out the razor he'd shaved with and cut the throat of the man behind him.

The knife wielding punk jabbed the blade forward, but Bruce was already behind the robber's ally, shielding himself from the cut. He pushed the bleeding criminal at his friend, who crumbled under his fellow's weight. Bruce capitalized by bashing his foot into the trapped man's face, breaking several facial bones and knocking out a couple teeth. The bigger man, bleeding out but not deterred, rose, and attempted to swing at Bruce.

A quick dodge left the robber unbalanced, and a faster kick to the crotch left him on the ground and unconscious from the pain and blood loss. It took a moment for the scene to register with him, but when he realized what he'd done, Bruce leaned against the wall and started panting. The rush of adrenaline and the smell of blood were unknown to him for too long. He couldn't handle it.

"Oooh! Put a little salt in there why don't you?"

"Who're you?" Bruce asked the voice coming from nowhere, "you aren't the same as before. Are you?"

"No, no, no. I know who you're talking about, I can't stand that guy. He lies to you, he tries to hold me back."

"But who are you, and who is he?"

"He's a nobody, a twerp who exists to make you miserable. He pointed you in the right direction, I mean let's face it, you're in quite the slump….but after he pointed you, he spun you around and kicked your feet out from under you. Trust me, do what I say, and you'll be back before you know it!"

"What do you think I should do?"

"I think you should invite me over and sit in the driver's seat. I think you should let me take control for a little while, show you how things ought to be. Give me the power to make you do what will make you happy, Bruce!"

"Who are you?" Bruce asked for the third time, almost shouting it by now.

"You know who I am. You know me well in fact, but perhaps only by name and reputation...It's your old Uncle J, Brucie, I'm back! The Joker!"

"Why should I listen to you?"

"Well just look where listening to the other guy got you. He lead you into this mess, and I can make it all better."

"Don't listen to him!" The first voice, the unknown identity from the mirror in his bathroom shouted back.

"But I...I don't….I can't….I…"

"Bruce, Bruce, Bruce, it's simple!" Joker assured, "Listen to me, and the hurt goes bye-bye. Listen to this schmuck, and you'll be led into one disaster after another."

"The choice belongs to you, but you have to decide now. Will you follow The Joker, or will you fight him as you always have?" The voice asked.

Bruce grunted as he grabbed his hair and clenched his hands on his skull, falling to his knees in pain as part of him did battle with another. Whatever he'd done as Batman that brought himself into this position must've been important.

"Give in!" Joker commanded.

"Fight him!" The other voice pleaded.

Bruce screamed and threw his arms into the air as he made the choice that affected the rest of his life.