Any Last Words?

By the time I've managed to get up to the roof, Batman is already standing there, waiting for me. I don't wonder why he's glaring at me; I'm the son of his most dangerous enemy. I don't think anything I say or do is going to remove that mistrust. Besides, I don't deserve his trust; I'm just as unpredictable as my father.

"I'm sorry." Surprise flashes in his eyes for the briefest of moments. It was hard to catch, but it was there. "I stuffed up," I explain. "I'm going to make it right."

He nods once. "Then where is he?"

My heart sinks. "I don't know. Honestly, I don't. If I knew, I would tell you." I'm babbling. It's not like he was even accusing me of anything. "I don't know if it'll be of any use but he abducted me and he took me to this place that looked like an old abandoned factory. It was across the river, on the mainland. Opposite the Narrows. Some of the crates and stuff in there, they were all labelled Ace Chemicals. I, I don't know if it's any use to you." I shrug. "But yeah."

"What did he do to you?"

"What do you mean? I didn't say he did anything." He just stares at me. "Alright," I give in. "I did say he abducted me, but that doesn't mean he did anything to me."

He stares at me until I feel compelled to hang my head in shame. "You can tell me," he growls, "or you can explain it to the police. The choice is yours."

I let out a snort of laughter. "Some choice," I mutter but I am grateful. He's going easy on me by letting me just tell him what happened. It could've been different. Much different. He coulda dragged me anywhere in the city and I would've been powerless to resist him. He could've taken me to the Commissioner himself and left me there, forcing me to figure out a way to get myself out of it. Shit, the possibilities are endless. I'm just grateful he's not being an asshole.

"He, well, he's not angry, as such," I begin before I pause again, trying to think of the right word. "Disgruntled, I guess would be a better way to put it. He's annoyed I asked you for help. I guess he saw it as a simple choice. According to him, all I had to do to stop him, to stop the attacks, was to let him win. To let him... own me." My hands fly up and I look like I'm surrendering. "I know it sounds stupid but that's what I think he was saying."

"You fought him?"

"Yeah, all my life." I drop my hands and shake my head. "Not physically. He's bigger than me. Stronger too. I'd be dead if I tried. But my drag act, well, the one I used to do; it was a kind of resistance." This is the first time I've ever said something like this aloud. And it's all starting to click. I'm starting to understand why things happened. "And I always thought he just didn't like that I was doing a drag act. I guess I assumed that he was just homophobic. But it was never about that. He didn't have complete control of me. That's what he wanted." I don't even know if any of this is relevant to Batman anymore; I've just gotta figure this out. "That's why he's got Quinzel. He can control her and she'll do anything he wants." I stop talking and I feel like a freight train has hit me. That could've been me. I could have been Dad's pawn instead of Quinzel.

"You've changed."

Batman's curt voice cuts across my thoughts, interrupting them as I stare at him. "What did you say?"

"You've changed," he repeats. "Your resistance has changed." I feel a little taken aback. He can he tell? I can't see how he can be sure that I'm still resisting Dad and not him. "You're still resisting him; otherwise you wouldn't be talking to me." The Bat must be a fucking mind reader.

"I'm sorry," I mutter.

"You've said that before," he growls. "Why?"

I swallow past the lump of fear in my throat. "You need to know that I'm sorry. And I really am. But he... he made me murder my mentor, the person I considered my surrogate mother. He must have known how much she meant and he made me kill her to save her from him. And..." My breath catches in my throat as I think of Emilia. "My best friend. She was raped. And I can't prove it but I know he did it. She never saw him without the makeup so she wouldn't have been able to tell. Not if it was dark. I know he did it. He got her pregnant. Her fear in God, her fear of her parents, his unborn child made her jump. She killed herself because of him." I stop for a minute, trying to compose myself. "He has to pay," I finally manage to mutter.

"He will," Batman reassures but all I can hear is an empty promise.

I shake my head. "You won't make him pay. You won't do all that is necessary. How can you? You're on the run yourself. And Gordon and his police? They're a joke. What do they do when they catch him? Just lock him up for treatment that doesn't work. And then he's out again. It's like the Asylum has a revolving door. No. The monster needs to die."

"You can't kill your father."

"I've done it before."

"And that almost tore you apart." He's not glaring at me, but he's stern. He wants me to listen to this, I can tell. "You can't kill him without becoming like him."

I shrug. "They say that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

He shakes his head once, slowly. "You may be your father's son, but you don't have to be the Joker. You are already better than he is. Deep down you can't be as twisted and ugly as he is because you still care. He's alone. Leave him."

I take a deep, shuddering breath, fighting back my pain. "I'll do it because I care. For whatever reason, you won't kill to stop him. Arkham can't cure him; he's incurable. They won't send him to Blackgate cause he actually is crazy. The only thing that's gonna stop him is a bullet. And if you won't do it, I will."

I start to walk away, but Batman's voice stops me. "Did you think you'd killed him when you shot him?"

"Yes," I reply honestly, not turning to look at him. "Yes I did."

"I saw the pain and horror in your face. I know you cried for him, for what you'd done. You're not like him. You don't want to kill." I turn around to look at him and he's staring straight back at me. "Killing him is not the solution to your problems."

"Then what the hell am I supposed to do?" I snap and yell at him. "Don't kill him, you're better than that, you keep saying. I'm not. How can I be? He's all I've ever known. I am a fucked up kid. I used to watch him making bombs on the kitchen table. I grew up with the feeling that he probably killed my mother. How can I possibly be any better than he is when I start to notice the similarities?" He doesn't say anything so I continue. "I am his son. You can tell, can't you? We act the same sometimes, when I can't catch myself in time. I'm a ticking time bomb. Who knows what's going to set me off, and when? And it fucking terrifies me. I don't want to be him. But I am."

"And killing him will solve the problem?"

The tone of his voice stops me from yelling. I stop and consider his question. "I don't know," I finally admit. "I just don't want him to hurt me anymore. And, if I remove him from the picture, then I can't join him when I fail. You can understand that, can't you?"

"Go back to school. Finish your education. Become a better man than he is. But don't become him."

I numbly shake my head again. "I can't. He wouldn't let me. He needs to be stopped."

"I will stop him."

"Now that Dent's dead, and you killed him, you can't. You can't stop the Joker. Not anymore."

We stand for a while without saying anything. I look up, meeting his gaze. "I'm sorry. I'm going to break the law. I'm going to torture him. He'll wish he was dead. But I won't kill him. I won't give him the satisfaction. I won't let him win." He nods solemnly and lets me think for the right word without interrupting. "I don't want to fight you, but I can't let you interfere with what I have to do. Please," I implore, "don't assume that I've turned into him. I only want what's best for the city, for the few friends I have that managed to stay alive."

He nods once and I don't feel it necessary to say anything else. He lets me walk away.