"I appreciate this, Harri," Bruce said as he and Harri packed.

Bruce thought it would be best for him and Arsenio to move to Wayne Manor. He could no longer stay in the penthouse. It felt like the energy of the place had become so heavy and sad for him, he had to leave.

"How about these?" Harri asked Bruce.

"No..I don't need to bring any college memorabilia," he said. "Just essentials."

"Got it," Harri said and picked up a small vial in Bruce's desk. "What 's this?"

Bruce looked up from the box that he was taping shut. Harri was holding a small vial of ashes.

"Oh..." Bruce said. "I'll carry that."

He came over to Harri and took the small vial, looking at it as though remembering a lifetime of memories.

"It's ashes," he said.

"Whose?" Harri asked, looking at the tiny tube.

"A close friend of mine.." Bruce said. "She passed away a couple years ago."

"I'm so sorry," Harri said.

"I'm not even entirely sure these are her ashes," Bruce said.

"Why?" Harri asked. "Who gave them to you?"

"No one.." he answered, not wanting to tell her too much. "I...collected these from where she died. The building burned down."

"There was a fire?" Harri asked.

Bruce looked at the vial. There was an explosion and Rachel was killed. Enough gasoline around her for her to burn alive in seconds.

"Yes," Bruce said. "A fire.."

"That's awful," Harri said.

"Yes," Bruce nodded. "I keep this close...to remember her."

.

.

.

Once again, there were riots and protests in the street every day. Video footage of the Batman killing Harvey Dent was played on repeat on all news stations. It had been a couple of weeks but the citizens of Gotham would not let this go. The Batman had to vanish again.

Commissioner Gordon was sure that the people of Gotham had once again turned on the Batman so easily, despite all of the good he had done over the past couple of years, was because they believed they had an alternative. Shade.

The people loved her. She had been missing in action for a couple of months, but it had happened before and the people of Gotham knew in their hearts that she would return. They knew they would see her on the subway, dashing through the streets, in their local neighborhoods keeping them safe. They were hopelessly wrong, but the faith made their opposition to the Batman even stronger.

.

.

.

"Stella...Marcus.." Bruce greeted two people at the fundraising ball he was attending alone.

He was polite. He felt incredibly fake. An emotional armor had been built around him, because he knew that everywhere he went people looked at him with pity. He was a young widower and had only begun attending public events again very recently. No matter where he went, he felt people staring at him.

Putting on a show became tiring after less than an hour and Bruce decided to leave. He walked out alone into the cool early fall breeze. It was dark and the light from the moon was visible through the silvery clouds. He looked up at them and took a deep breath escaping for a moment before the valet came up to him.

The direction of his life from now on was a blur. The Batman had been banished. He did not care about his work at Wayne Enterprises. His social life barely existed. His only purpose in life now was Arsenio.

.

.

.

"The Dominican Republic," Lucius told the Joker about the location where he would finally be moved. "The property..it's a beautiful location."

"Great," the Joker said, though he didn't know much about the place where he was going. "So...I really have to move here."

"You'd rather stay here?" Lucius said and looked around the east Gotham row home he had leased short term for the Joker to stay in since he no longer needed to stay in the medical facility.

"It's sufficient," the Joker answered.

'It is risky," Lucius reminded him. "Gotham is...a crime ridden place. Even if you stay away from it..anything can happen. If the police ever run your prints for any reason..it is over."

The Joker looked down at the pictures in front of him. It was a beautiful location on the beach, beautiful enough to be a screensaver, he thought.

"Dominican Republic," the Joker said. "It could be interesting."

"You'll have everything you need," Lucius reassured him.

'Appreciate it," the Joker said.

"That being said," Lucius said. "Have you decided what name you'd like to go by? Will you keep the name Jack? I'll need to create documents for you."

"Jack is fine," the Joker said.

"And the last name?" Lucius asked.

"You choose," the Joker told him. "Doesn't matter to me."

"Alright then," Lucius agreed and began to stand. "We'll speak again once everything's been finalized."

"Can I ask you something?" the Joker asked, still sitting at the dining room table. "Actually, two things."

"Of course," Lucius said.

"This lavish..comfortable life in the Caribbean," the Joker said. "Is all funded by your boss, isn't it?"

"Any particular reason you think that?" Lucius asked him, not answering his question.

"See," the Joker said. "I've been dissecting this a lot. And the only scenario that makes sense to me is that he paid you to relocate me."

"Mr. Wayne was never made aware of your presence in his medical facility," Lucius answered. "Why would he be the one relocating you?"

"Not relocating me from the very lavish private hospital," the Joker said. "Relocating me from an underground prison."

Lucius said nothing, in disbelief that the Joker had figured it out.

The Joker was entirely sure that Lucius knew Bruce's identity as the Batman.

"I'm guessing he wasn't going to be so kind and generous with the beauty of the location," the Joker said. "I'm thinking he wanted more of a standard single occupant prisoner type of situation. But based on the fact that you're sending me to a tropical paradise, it only makes sense he's entrusted you with everything. Verifying my removal."

"Did she tell you?" Lucius asked the Joker about Adriana.

"Of course not," the Joker replied. "She kept his secret. Let's just say, I've figured it out on my own, a while ago."

" A while ago," Lucius said. "And you..haven't acted on it."

The Joker with now essentially free. Living unsupervised in a home with easy access to anywhere in Gotham.

"Acted," the Joker said. "I have no..vendetta with him."

"You're his enemy," Lucius told him.

"No.." the Joker said and thought of the man he met in the garden at the wake. "I'm not."

Lucius nodded. "What else did you want to ask me? You said there were two things."

The Joker was silent in his thought of how to ask.

"Adriana told me she had a child," the Joker said. "Son."

Lucius sat back down at the table.

"She also told me that she told you everything," he told Lucius. "You were her closest friend it seems."

Lucius nodded quietly.

"Tell me," the Joker said, without asking the question.

Lucius looked down at his hands and then at the Joker.

"Yes," he said finally. "You're...his biological father."

"Does he look like her?" the Joker asked, wanting to believe there was some part of her still thriving, vital and healthy. A child with her eyes, her energy..her essence.

"Not much," Lucius said. "I'd say he resembles you."

"Oh," the Joker said, intrigued but disappointed. "Well, I'm sure he'll have a good life with Wayne."

"He's loved and cared for," Lucius assured him. "You don't need to worry about him at all."

"Yes," the Joker nodded. "I know that."

Lucius and the Joker looked at each other for a moment, and then the Joker spoke again.

"So...the Dominican Republic," the Joker said. "Here I come."

.

.

.

Bruce had just finished an uneventful business dinner in an upscale restaurant in downtown Gotham. It was a Tuesday night and the place was nearly empty when the dinner had concluded. Bruce went into the bathroom, knowing he had not done his best at convincing the other party..closing the deal. It didn't matter. He found it impossible to give his best with his work anymore. The fact that he even showed up at all to the dinner was a miracle. As he washed his hands, he looked into the mirror, recognizing who he had become.

He looked at the white hairs dispersed through his thick dark hair, the section of silver hair behind his ear. Defeated and tired, though better than a month ago.

"Wayne?" Bruce heard a voice behind him as someone came out of a stall.

"Oh..." Bruce said as the man walked over to the sink and turned on the water. "Ricard. Good to see you."

"You too," Damien said and shook the water off of his hands. "Hope you've been holding up well. Can't be easy."

"I'm well," Bruce said.

"You're a good fella, Bruce," Damien said. "Adriana was an amazing woman. Honorable for you to...you know, handle everything. She...definitely had a lot going on."

Bruce had a hard time listening to people these days. Words seemed to float through his head space, in one ear and out the other. Damien had begun to walk away and was at the door before Bruce stopped him.

"What are you talking about?" Bruce finally asked. "Her abilities? I loved her...and everything that she had going on, even her.. gift.. the good and the bad."

"Well, yeah, sorry," Damien said. "Wasn't implying that you didn't love her..despite you know the psychological stuff. It's just, when it leads to a kid being involved, it's gotta be tough."

"She was a great mother," Bruce told Damien.

"Of course," Damien said. "I know she loved her kid..I mean she kept him didn't she? She never seemed so pro-life but she must have been. I know she did her best."

Bruce blinked a few times, and Damien looked into his dark eyes seeing that Bruce was a bit lost. They were wondering if each other had taken a bit too much alcohol with dinner due to their obvious miscommunications.

"She had a lot going on," Bruce said. He remembered them getting Damien to sign a contract. He had been paid millions. Adriana had told him that he knew about her being Shade. Damien agreed to never speak a word about Adriana to anyone and to keep her secret. He didn't know that it was a lie. That wasn't the secret she needed Damien to keep. "But of course she kept our child."

"Alll...right.." Damien said confused. "Well big ups to you for keeping the kid...taking care of it...you're a decent man. Have a good night."

Bruce grabbed Damien's arm before he could reach the door again.

"Why the hell wouldn't I keep my son?" Bruce asked. "What the hell is going on in your head?"

"Your son?" Damien asked. "Come on..." he said and looked down, making sure no one was in the stalls. "It's just us here."

Bruce was lost. He had no idea where the conversation had gone. Adriana never told him that Damien knew that Arsenio wasn't his.

"I love him," Bruce said, accepting this secret revealed. "Maybe that is where you missed the point."

"Yeah," Damien said. "Like I said..you're a better fella than most of us. No way would I be taking care of a monster's kid but you..you're decent. Look up to you, man."

Bruce frowned. The man was clearly mentally ill. "You're calling Adriana a monster?"

"Course not, man, I would never," Damien replied. "No way."

"Then what on God's green earth are you on about?" Bruce was frustrated.

"I'm calling the Joker a monster, relax," Damien said. "I would never call Adriana a monster, come on."

"The Joker?" Bruce asked, now knowing Damien must have been drunk. Nothing was making sense. "What does the Joker have to do with anything?"

"Wayne," Damien said. "Is this a trick question? You made me sign that contract and cut me a check to never speak about Adriana and now what...do you count? Can't speak about her to you either?"

Bruce though back to his honeymoon, Adriana telling him that she was Shade for the first time. Telling him that she had been blackmailed...that Damien was threatening to expose her secret. They met Damien, and agreed to pay him a large sum of money if he swore never to tell anyone another word about her in an any context. That day...neither of them explicitly said what the contract was for.

"Tell me," Bruce said. "Tell me what you agreed to when you signed that contract."

"It's not a trick?" Damien asked.

"Tell me," Bruce said again, still clueless. Maybe Adriana had told him that she did criminal work for the Joker? But he still had no clue what it had to do with her son.

"Fine," Damien said. "I swore I would never tell anyone that she had the Joker's kid."

Bruce took a step back. In that moment, Damien could clearly see that Bruce didn't know anything about it.

"Wayne...look...it's none of my business," Damien said. "I should head out-"

"How do you know this," Bruce asked, his voice quick and monotone. "What makes you think this is true?"

"She said so when I confronted her with the test results," Damien said.

"Test? What test?" Bruce wanted to know.

"The paternity test," Damien said.

"You took a paternity test," Bruce said remembering Damien wanting to be tested to see if he was Arsenio's father. "It was negative."

"Yeah but I still had the paperwork," Damien said. "The genetic info matched the Joker's DNA. He's the father-"

Bruce was holding up a hand, stopping him from speaking.

"Where are these tests?" Bruce asked.

"I...think I still have them somewhere," Damien said. "You want them?"

The deep, sharp look in Bruce's eyes told him that the answer was yes.

.

.

.

"I'll be right back," Damien told Bruce and left him in his mansion's living room. Bruce sat slowly on the couch.

Her remembered their fight. He remembered the overwhelming feeling that she was keeping something from him. This was it.

"Here," Damien said, back much quicker than Damien had anticipated.

"This the only copy?" Bruce asked.

"Yes," Damien answered.

.

.

.

Bruce was parked in the dark shipping yard, madness and tension filling his body. His hands shaking with fury. He wanted nothing more than to kill the man with his bare hands. He let out a scream that rocked the windows of his Lambo as he slammed his fists onto the steering wheel. After this outburst he stepped out of the car after getting the gun he kept in the car. He hadn't been to this place in months. His former batcave.

He didn't care if the Joker saw his true identity. He didn't care at all. He pulled the gun out and held it in his right hand as he went to the elevator. There was no thinking involved as the elevator went down in the dark. Nothing mattered. He imagined himself turning and shooting. Firing at the man until the pistol was empty, returning to the elevator and leaving, never looking back again.

Once the elevator stopped he looked into the dark. The lights against the back wall, dim as ever.

There was no one there.