The city councilmen stare at Gordon without bothering to disguise their disdain.
"I'm sorry, Jim, but I really don't see why we need him."
The grizzled commissioner lets out a pained sigh. Damned politicians.
"Trust me, he's not the man this city needs, but we still deserve him. Wait, hang on, that wasn't quite right."
The politicians smile patiently.
"Yes, well, the city's finances aren't secure enough to support him. The massive amount of collateral damage over the years is really starting to take its toll."
Gordon shakes his head. The slicks go on.
"Furthermore, we would like you to remind him that the gargoyles are a hallmark of our fair city and not playthings. If his vandalism of these artworks continues unabated, we will either have to give up on them completely or let other city maintenance suffer."
Gordon pinches his nose.
"You don't understand!"
One of the politicians nods.
"We truly do not. We do not understand why you would want to involve him even further in police affairs. We do not understand why you would trust a man so obviously unhinged. We do not understand why you would bring a massive clam to this meeting."
Gordon furrows his brow.
"Clam?"
Right behind him a massive clam opens, revealing…the Batman! He is completely naked apart from his cowl and cape, which hides his loins. The commissioner lets out a sharp breath in surprise. A security guard moves to clothe the hero, but freezes in mid-motion.
"I hate it when he does that," Gordon mutters in a tired voice.
One of the politicians raises his eyebrows in abject disbelief. "He does this often?"
"All the time," Gordon smiles, then thinks better of it. "The sneaking up on you in impossible ways I mean. It's pretty impressive, you have to admit."
"Yes," nods one of the councilmen, "it really is. The room is very well lit. And that is a mammoth clam."
There is a short silence.
"So…Mr. Batman? Is there anything you have to add to the discussion? Would you be able to explain to us what it is you seek to accomplish with your highly destructive vigilantism?"
The Batman seems not to have heard. He stares out ahead with distant eyes, his gravelly voice contemplative as he speaks.
"I am the turtle."
The politicians eye him warily. He takes one outrageously slow step out of the clam.
"I move slowly, crushing all those who oppose me."
The councilmen look over at Gordon. A slight blush rises in his cheeks as he looks back. The councilmen look at Batman, who would, to the untrained eye, seem to be unmoving. They look back at Gordon. His eyes widen and he smiles nervously. They look back at Batman, whose leg is sliding inexorably onward in the unmistakable style of a step. They look at Gordon, who breaks out in a sweat. They motion for the security guards to step in.
The Batman is not caught unawares by this treacherous tactic. "When I sense danger," he says, "I turtle up." He curls himself into a ball on the floor.
The politicians stare at Gordon.
"He's a delicate man," he explains, "and doesn't perform well under pressure."
They stare at Gordon. He sighs and pats the dark knight on the shoulder.
"Come on, Batman."
He carries the caped crusader away. The hero lies helpless in his arms, all limbs flailing slowly in a turtlesque manner.
Once outside, the commissioner puts him down on the wet pavement and goes to buy some cigarettes. When he next turns around, some fifteen minutes later, he will be astonished to find the Batman has disappeared. He will smile to himself and murmur something about hating when he does that.
Bruce lies exhausted on the slick pavement, rain pouring down on his bleeding face as he sobs. A woman with the slightest of smiles stands above him with an ice-cream cone in hand. Bruce looks up at her with hateful eyes.
"What the hell are you smiling about?"
"Wouldn't you like to know."
Bruce looks back on his recent actions with some puzzlement as he lies on the beach in a flimsy robe and an octopus touches him in places octopi should never touch.
"Shit, what am I doing with this octopus," he mutters under his breath.
There is a crowd not far away, pointing and staring.
"Keep it together, Bruce," he tells himself, "keep it cool."
Disentangling himself from the disappointed octopus he walks coolly away.
"I'm billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne, I do all sorts of freaky stuff," he thinks to himself.
The crowd parts before him and he strolls into town.
"Maybe now people will finally stop asking questions about my mysterious injuries."
Bruce smiles mournfully.
"It's a beautiful night."
"It is."
"It's been to long since we did anything like this," Bruce continues, "Took a step outside the world and spoke, just the two of us."
"Poor choice of words. But I agree. I've missed this."
They lie back on the warm grass underneath a starlit sky.
"We used to do such stupid things. Such wonderfully stupid things."
"Like that time you brought me on that ridiculous double date?"
Bruce laughs.
"And we ended up speaking only to each other and boring them so bad they ditched us without a word?"
"That's the one," the other man chuckles, "lowest point of my heartbreaker career."
A moment passes in comfortable silence, and the man continues: "Those were the days. Some of my best memories, to be honest."
Bruce grins.
"Mine too. We were so optimistic back then. Anything seemed possible."
"It did, didn't it? We talked like we could change everything. We should have known better, deep down."
Bruce ponders this a while.
"Maybe. But I still let myself hope, every now and then. The memories wouldn't have been worth much if we'd been jaded then, would they?"
"Suppose not. Still amazingly naïve in hind-sight."
Bruce smiles.
"Remember what we were talking about?"
The other man half sighs, half chuckles.
"Justice."
The sky above is utterly clear, the stars unmoving and glittering. Not a hint of wind blows, the only sound comes from their quiet breathing and the noises of the animals in the woods.
"What was the nature of justice? Was it just a tool for the powerful?"
"Or was it still there, a pure ideal hidden beneath all that corruption?"
They stay quiet a while, amidst the ticking of bugs.
"Remember our conclusion?"
"A little bit of both. The city made a travesty of justice, but the idea was sound. It could be saved."
"An optimistic solution. The idea has always been there, though the world has never seen it implemented truthfully."
"And never will."
The ugly voice does not still Bruce, but his eyes take on a heavier sorrow nevertheless.
"I miss the past. I miss you. And myself." He sighs. "Think we'll ever be as happy as we were then?"
"You'll find something, I'm sure of it. But all things must pass, good and evil, never to return. I can never go back." He breathes out deeply. "I would tell you to forget about me, but I know it isn't that easy. Wasn't for Gilda."
"Do you still hear from her?"
"No. I stay informed, see how she's doing, if she's happy. But talk to her? No. I've brought her too much pain already."
Bruce says nothing. The other man continues.
"And what did we do, once we'd talked about justice to our heart's content?"
"We acted. We tried to change things. It was slow and it was hard, but it looked to be working."
The man grunts.
"We certainly changed things. Hard to say if it was for the better."
"We tried. What more could we have done? And we came close. If things had just been slightly different, if things hadn't gone the way they did, if…" he smiles at himself. "If."
The other man smiles back.
"If. But don't think of blaming yourself. Even if it hadn't happened, I was always bound to go wrong. It's been inside me so long. Wound up tight and hidden away, but never dealt with. It was always going to explode inside of me."
"Maybe. I know there's no way I could have changed things, could have known. But I can't help thinking what things would be like if I'd paid more attention. If I'd thought of others instead of focusing on my own pain."
The man shakes his head.
"We can't escape ourselves, can we?" He looks Bruce in the eye. "But what do we think now? Why is justice blind?"
"I don't know anymore. Fairness is so far away."
"It's so she doesn't have to see the blood on her hands or the lie she stands for."
They are quiet for a while, before he speaks again.
"Do you still think the city can be saved?"
"Honestly? No. But I'll keep going. It's the only thing I can do. And I still do good, even if I no longer believe it has a lasting effect."
"I believe it does. Ideas are powerful things. You're one of the few good people left."
Bruce looks over at him.
"I'm sorry. For everything that happened to you, everything I've done to you."
"I'm sorry too. I regret all the things I've done. I know you hate what I do. But I can't stop. It's the last shred of my belief."
"I may hate what you do, but I will never hate you. No matter what, you will always be my best friend. I will always love you."
The man's gaze falls to the ground.
"We can never be as we used to. But I am your friend too, always."
Bruce looks deep into his eyes.
"I won't stop believing in you."
A moment passes in silence. Then his gaze is met with a sorrowful smile.
"You can still bear to look at me?"
Bruce smiles and puts a hand on his shoulder.
"I'll never look away, Harvey."
They pass a moment in silence. Suddenly the lawyer speaks: "What is law?"
Bruce stares at him, and Harvey starts to jerk his shoulders rhythmically. Bruce laughs.
"Baby, don't hurt me?"
"Don't hurt me, no more."
Prone dancing commences. Then they jump to their feet, two men in their late forties acting like youngsters. They take a running jump into the lake and start splashing in the cold water under the stars. A man in a hockey mask appears out of the woods, wielding a machete. Bruce spots him.
"Goddammit, Jason! We're having a moment here."
Jason Todd removes the hockey mask.
"How did you know it was me?"
