sorry about the delay. I fell and broke my elbow; just got out and while i can't type yet, here is a short chapter i had ready. reviews pls? The pain meds they gave me in hospital gave me hallucinations and much new insight on joker...

CHAPTER 12

Batman made his way silently back to the batcave. He was tired, so very weary. It wasn't a physical exhaustion, he recognized, rather it was a darkness of the soul. The past year had been hellish, ever since Dick... The nightmares had been getting worse, too. Alfred had insisted on getting him some sleeping pills, but he'd been palming them. With the nightmares waiting for him, the last thing he wanted was sleep. He didn't wake rested, anyway. He'd sleep when he was dead.

He pulled into the cave and saw that Jason had already arrived. Jay had made over Nightwing's bike; it was now enameled in colors of black, gray and red. He had dimly noticed that Jason had taken over many of Dick's belongings and prerogatives. Rather than moving back into his own room, he'd taken Dick's old suite, saying that it was bigger and more convenient. He seemed to be glorying in his new status as Bruce's 'oldest' living son. Bruce hadn't argued with him. He'd been too wrapped up in mourning Dick to bother with what he deemed trivialities, regardless of what Alfred had to say.

He parked the batmobile, changed out of his uniform and made his way, as he often did now, to Dick's gravesite. He'd had a marble bench installed next to it. Since patrol usually ended near dawn, he'd gotten into the habit of watching the sun rise from the bench. Seeing the glory of dawn light shining from behind Dick's monument comforted him. It seemed to bring Dick closer somehow, watching the statue of the angel leaping for the sky just as Dick used to.

He sat down, hunching into his jacket against the cold, and watched the gray sky turn rose colored. "Good morning, Son," he said softly. "I'm sorry I almost never called you 'Son' when you were alive; I think the last time was the day that Joker shot you... I even avoided the topic most of your adult life. I regret that. I regret a lot of things now..." He fell silent, watching the east brighten over the trees. "The Joker died last night. I didn't shoot him, but I planned to. I froze at the last second and Jason shot him for me. I know how you'd feel about that, both my intending to kill a man and allowing Jason to murder in my presence. I...don't know what to tell you, Dick, except that it was necessary. It felt necessary after all the pain that the Joker has caused. I know that what he did to Barbara hurt you, hurt all of us. Jason deserved some recompense for all that he lost...After Alex Luthor took you away from me, I decided not to allow this kind of crime to go unpunished anymore." He stopped and watched the brightening sky, hearing the birds start to sing. Dick would have loved a morning like this, so full of promise. When he was a child, 4:00 a.m. was time to get up and do the morning workout. He and Dick had often run the grounds in a two mile loop, regardless of the weather. Dick had often climbed the trees along the pathway and swung limb from limb, daring Bruce to chase him. Bruce smiled. A few times he'd taken the kid up on it. He'd even caught the little monkey once. His smile faded.

His conversation with Gordon hadn't gone well. There might be an arrest warrant out for him, but he truly couldn't bring himself to care. He'd lost so much in the past year that the rest of life seemed flat. Of course, since Gordon knew who he was, the police might come right to Wayne Manor to arrest him. He stood up slowly. He'd deal with that when and if it came.

The footsteps he'd heard coming down the path materialized into Alfred with a thermos. "Knowing how you like to watch the sun rise from this point, sir, I thought I would bring you some hot coffee," he said.

"Thanks, Alfred," Bruce said, allowing Alfred to fill the mug he'd brought with him.

"It looks like we'll have a clear but crisp day, Master Bruce," Alfred commented, resealing the thermos. "Just the sort of day that you and Master Dick used to enjoy your cross-country runs."

"Yes," Bruce said. "Not too hot, not too cold. Pity that Jason doesn't like running in the country."

Alfred cleared his throat. "About Master Jason, sir. I understand that some blood was shed last night."

Bruce's eyebrows drew in. "Yes," he replied warily. "The Joker died."

"Master Jason's work?"

"Yes," Bruce replied. "And your interest?"

"Just that the news has reported this morning that the Joker was found dead this morning and that it is being considered a suicide, sir." Alfred waited patiently for Bruce's response.

"Gordon spoke with me last night but I had no idea..." Bruce pursed his lips and handed the mug back to Alfred.

"A considerable favor to you," Alfred said steadily. "But I would not expect any further consideration on the Commissioner's part for any future deaths."

"No, I wouldn't either, Alfred. But I imagine that Barbara's situation entered into it as well," Bruce said.

"I know that we have discussed this before, but ...I can't imagine that Master Dick would have approved your actions of late. Were he still alive, he would be working actively to, as I believe he would put it, 'take you down'". Alfred tucked the thermos under his arm and turned to go.

"Alfred," Bruce said.

"Yes sir?"

"He would say that. And at this point, he'd probably succeed," Bruce sighed. "I'm tired...tired to the soul..."

"Well then, Master Bruce, may I recommend that you get some sleep. Come upstairs. You will feel better after a rest." The butler gestured towards the path leading to the house. His master trudged his way up the gravel path, followed by loyal servant.

Bruce collapsed into bed, asleep before his head hit the pillow. This time, Dick was dressed as Nightwing, leaning casually against the side of the batmobile. "Bruce, you idiot. You're not getting enough rest and Jason is going to set the entire Gotham Police Department after you. Why on earth are you still partnering with him?"

"I need backup, Dick. I can't do this alone," Batman found himself explaining. "I don't have you anymore."

"Yeah, and you drove Tim out of Gotham. All you have to do is call him back, Bruce. You know he'd be here in an instant. He's doing good work in New York. You know that, too!" Dick shifted his weight, no longer casual. "Gordon isn't going to let another killing slide. Whether or not you pulled the trigger, you're an accessory Bruce. You ought to know, you taught me the Criminal Code. If you don't break with Jason, you'll be so far over the line that there's no turning back!"

With that, Dick faded out and was replaced by darkness and the sound of voices, shouting "Killer! Murderer!" Bruce looked up and saw his parents, repeating those words, shouting them at him.

The words were still ringing in his head when he woke to the sound of a telephone ringing, elsewhere in the house. Alfred appeared, face apologetic. "I am sorry, sir. But there is a Wayne Foundation Charity Event on your calendar that I neglected to remind you of. Your plane leaves for London this afternoon..."

"It's all right, Alfred," Bruce muttered, dragging himself out of bed. "I couldn't sleep anyway."

Tathenniel's face lit up and he sped through the next several months. "Yes, yes I think that this is it. Matters are coming to a head."

"What matters?" Dick asked. "How can you see anything when the images are moving so fast? Who is that woman Bruce is with?"

"Her name is Jezebel Jet. A fashion model who rules a small country, inherited from her murdered father. But I think that she is more than she seems..." The angel gestured and the images stopped.

"Wait a minute, they're invading the batcave!" Dick stepped closer to the images. "They're beating up Alfred...and what are they doing to Bruce? They're injecting him with something...drugs..." Dick squinted, reading the words on the computer screens. "Zur en arrh...Oh my God, I haven't heard that phrase in a long, long time..." He backed away from the pillar.

"And what does 'zur en arrh' mean to you?" Tathenniel asked as Dick stood still, face white with tension.

"A long time ago, when I was about twelve, Batman volunteered for an isolation experiment run by a Doctor Simon Hurt," Dick began. "Batman didn't tell me about it. He left a note for me with Commissioner Gordon, to be delivered after two days. He was in the isolation chamber for ten days before they had to pull him out. He was suicidal."

"Suicidal? Why?" Tathennial asked.

"He believed that he was trapped on an alien planet and that I was there with him. In his dreams, I was crushed by a boulder, killed by some kind of animated statue-creature, before Batman could get to me. Batman said... he felt that it was his fault that I'd been killed. He buried me and wandered away alone, then finally decided that..." Dick swallowed hard. "That, if I was dead, he didn't want to live. At the end, he just lay down and invited the next creature he saw to kill him because he just couldn't stand it anymore. Because I was dead and it was his fault..."