Day Three: Anniversary
Bruce found the dining room empty. There was coffee in the pot, so he poured himself a cup and sat down at the vacant table and took a few sips, looking around. He heard the Joker creep into the kitchen but didn't react. Giggling, the Joker pressed his hands over his eyes.
"I could turn around and knock you out if I wanted to."
"Batsy!"
Bruce had another sip of coffee, and heard shuffling around the kitchen. When the sounds stopped, the Joker planted a kiss on the top of his head and pulled his hands away. The table had been piled with platters of food. Two clumsily-wrapped presents sat in front of him.
"Happy anniversary, darling!"
Bruce gaped. The Joker crossed around so he could squint at him.
"Don't tell me you forgot."
Bruce closed his mouth, and did his best to look terrified.
"Broo-ooce."
He smiled. "Your presents in the Cave."
Shrieking with delight, the Joker ran out of the dining room. Bruce made himself a plate of cheesy eggs, bacon, and donuts. He munched on a creme while he waited for the Joker to return.
He came back dragging a neatly-wrapped rectangle that reached up to his waist, with a smaller-rectangle taped to it.
"Brucey! Like I don't know it's a piano!"
Bruce chuckled and took another bite of his donut. Joker plucked it out of his hand.
"No! Presents first, breakfast later!"
"Sure," Bruce agreed. "But I want my donut back."
"Me first!" Joker clapped, dropping the donut back on Bruce's plate.
"Open the bigger one."
The Joker cackled and grabbed the larger one, tearing the wrapping off. He screamed with delight.
"My giant Joker card! You kept it?"
Bruce smiled into his coffee. The Joker hugged the card, grinning.
"That's your card, not the present."
"Now the tiny one!" The Joker snatched it up and ripped off the paper. He lifted the lid of the box and stopped dead. "Bruce?"
Bruce set his cup down. Doesn't he like it?
Joker raced around the table and sat himself down in his lap. He cupped Bruce's face in his hands and kissed him.
"I love it," he whispered, then skipped around to pick his present back up. He pulled the knife Bruce had given him out of the box and twirled it in his fingers.
"It's beautiful." He examined it, and his jaw dropped. "What's this on the hilt?"
Batman grinned into his cup.
"A ring! Brucey, you shouldn't have!" Joker squeaked and yanked the ring off the hilt to slide it on. "Now you!"
Laughing, Bruce pulled one of the Joker's presents closer toward him.
"Hello."
Bruce was in uniform, his cape blowing in the wind. The ground was hard and cold, the grass brown, and the grave in front of him looked unusually bleak.
"This feels weird. I'm talking to a rock. I don't know if you can hear me. I hope you can. I'd feel quite idiotic if you couldn't."
He placed the roses he'd brought against the tombstone. "I brought you flowers. I couldn't find your favorites, but roses are romantic. And they're dyed purple. Your favorite color."
The wind seemed to get a little bit quieter. Batman reached into the bag at his feet and pulled out the old knife he'd given the Joker years ago. He drove it into the frozen earth. "And here's your knife. I thought you... might want it."
"And I got you some presents." Bruce pulled the wrapped gift out of the bag and set it down. "Worth every penny, even though-"
He swallowed, and sat down in front of the tombstone. "I almost forgot your card." He pulled the Joker card out of the bag and laid it down, gently. He sighed, and closed his eyes.
"I miss you. Gotham just isn't the same. The Manor feels completely empty, and I can't hear you laughing in the hallways. And I'm alone in the Cave most of the time, and it feels quiet. It's always quiet. And I just- I just- I want you to come back. I can't take you being-"
Bruce broke off and looked up at the sky. It was perfectly white. Sooner or later, it would be snowing. He reached forward and touched the gravestone, pressing his palm flat against it.
He sat there and breathed. Time passed by.
"It's getting late. I should probably get going soon. It's a big, bad city out there. That's what you always said, anyway."
He didn't move. More time went by.
"It's hard. Knowing I won't see you again. I won't ever hear you laugh again. It's strange."
With difficulty, Bruce rearranged his face into a smile. It felt horribly fake.
"Happy anniversary."
He stood and walked away. Once his back was to the grave, the smile slipped off his face.
He kept hearing his voice, apologizing.
Sorry.
Sorry.
He could still see him, pressed up against the edge of the ferris wheel cart.
Sorry.
Sorry.
Bruce froze and glanced back at the grave.
"I'm sorry."