Rebecca didn't know how the rest of the night passed.
She was vaguely aware of the ambulance at came to pick Harvey up. She somewhat felt it when Bruce left her as soon as help came, his heavy gloved hand soon replaced by a thick orange blanket before she was ushered into the ambulance for shock. She almost noticed when Gordon came running to see her at the hospital, but his words and his apology as he revealed the Joker had broken out and taken Lau with him fell on deaf ears. Rebecca didn't care if the Joker was out or what happened to Lau. What did any of it matter?
Rachel was dead.
Eventually, she was assigned to go home. She faintly registered Gordon sending her off with a worried glance and advice to rest and recover. Recover from what, a small part of her brain wondered? You recovered from illness. People recovered after a natural disaster tore their home down. Her world had just been blown apart by a madman in clown makeup who was still alive.
Rachel was dead.
Rebecca didn't see Alfred's concerned gaze on her the entire time he drove her back to the penthouse. She didn't notice when he patted her while he gently led her into the house. She didn't realize she'd sunk into the living room sofa until she was curled up against it while Alfred excused himself politely. She registered when the sky began to lighten because the pink dawn reminded her of Rachel's favourite colour as a child.
Rachel was dead.
A soft sound alerted her to the fact that she wasn't alone and Rebecca looked up to see Bruce watching her sadly from the far end of the sofa.
"Hey, Becky." Bruce murmured, his voice hoarse like he was holding back tears.
Rebecca stared at him for a long moment, and Bruce's heart sank.
The whole night, he'd been afraid Rebecca would blame him for what had happened. Aside from his own pain at Rachel's passing, that selfish but real fear had haunted him as he'd stayed beside Rebecca while she was shell-shocked after she finally stopped her terrible screams for her sister; as he'd searched through the ruined warehouse where Rachel had died in the vain hope that he'd find something other than more proof of her death. Even as he'd visited Harvey to pass on the charred double-headed coin that had been Rachel's memento of him.
Now, he feared, it was time for her to unleash her anger, her pain, her blame - all justly - at him.
But Bruce was surprised when Rebecca whispered, "Hold me?"
His heart tugged and Bruce crossed the gap in an instant. Pulling Rebecca into his strong but helpless arms, he held her close as she buried her face into his shoulder where she shuddered.
"I'm so sorry, Becky." Bruce whispered hoarsely, and Rebecca's hands tightened on the back of his shirt.
"She never texted me." Rebecca mumbled numbly. "She never texted me that night – how did I miss the fact that she didn't text me to let me know she had gotten home safely? That she never replied to my text? If I had just thought about it, I-"
"Sh, Becky, it's not your fault." Bruce soothed, a new pain shooting through him.
He didn't want her to blame herself - if anything, he was to blame.
But the floodgates had been opened and Rebecca clutched him tightly as she choked out, "I never even told her the truth, Bruce. She always shared about her and Harvey, she was going to get married, and I never told her about us, I kept so many things from her, and now..."
"Becky, stop. Don't do this to yourself." Bruce pleaded, trying to force Rebecca's face up so he could look at her. "Please, Becky. Rachel knew."
Rebecca looked up then, staring at Bruce with haunted blue eyes.
"What?" Rebecca asked, and Bruce revealed in a low voice, "She confronted me about it the night before… she wanted me to rethink turning myself in because she was worried it would hurt you."
Rebecca stared at Bruce.
"She knew… everything?" Rebecca asked faintly, and Bruce nodded.
"Why didn't she come to me…?" Rebecca asked, her voice cracking, and Bruce hugged her tightly.
"I think she wanted to be sure of my intentions first." He answered softly. "I told her the truth, and she accepted it. I think she intended to speak with you later."
"She wanted me to call her." Rebecca mumbled before her voice shook again. "She specifically asked, and I didn't. I didn't want to interrupt her and Harvey, but if I'd just called-"
"It may not have changed anything." Bruce replied quietly. "They found a machine with recordings of Rachel's voice on it. That's what Ramirez heard when she checked in with Rachel after Harvey was captured."
"But it wouldn't have fooled me." Rebecca insisted. "And we would have figured it out faster, we could have done more to save her. We could have-!"
"I know, Becky." Bruce soothed, shushing Rebecca as her voice turned hysterical. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"I want her back, Bruce." Rebecca whimpered, curling up against Bruce. "It hurts so much to have her gone. I… I..."
"I know." Bruce repeated, holding her close. "I'm sorry. I know."
Rebecca shuddered before she leaned back and gazed up at Bruce. He met her gaze, his dark eyes filled with sorrow and sympathy and an ache to somehow help her. To make things right.
Rebecca stared up at him with hollow eyes, before her gaze dropped. And Bruce tensed as Rebecca leaned in toward him.
"Becky?"
She ignored him as she pressed her lips against his. Softly at first, but then insistently.
"Becky." Bruce mumbled around her lips, but Rebecca pressed against him. Her hands dragged along his back after worming their way under his shirt, and Bruce tensed further when she tugged on his shirt.
"Becky, stop."
Rebecca ignored him as she pulled him in for a deeper kiss. He answered it automatically before his mind kicked in again when she tugged on his pants.
"No, Becky."
Bruce's voice was firm as he broke away from her, his hands holding hers tightly and bringing them safely back into her lap.
"No. You're in grief."
"So help me." Rebecca pleaded, looking up at him with desperate blue eyes. "Help me forget this pain. Please, Bruce."
His heart ached at the way her voice caught, at the open wound she carried in her heart, but he knew he had to be firm. This wasn't right.
"Becky, I want to help you." He began, and she blurted out, "I want you. I want you, Bruce. I love you."
"Becky..." Bruce sighed.
Rebecca tried to kiss him, thinking he was giving in, but Bruce placed his forehead against hers as he held her back gently.
"Becky, I love you and I want you too. I've always wanted you." Bruce said seriously, gazing into the eyes of the woman he loved so much. "But not like this. I don't want this to be how you remember our first time."
Rebecca's eyes started to fill with tears and Bruce kissed her softly on the forehead.
"I love you too much to let this happen. You're in pain, and this won't help."
"It will." Rebecca pleaded feverishly but Bruce said gently, "You know it won't. Think, for a moment, Bec. Think it over and tell me you don't feel hurt when you kiss me."
Rebecca's lip wobbled and she bit down on it as tears sprung to her eyes.
"I just… I..." She sobbed and Bruce gathered her in his arms.
"I know." He answered.
Rebecca sobbed, the tears from the heartbreak of her sister's death finally falling and Bruce held her close as she cried into his chest.
"She's gone." Rebecca wept. "She's gone, Bruce. Rachel's gone."
"I know." Bruce replied heavily. "I'm sorry. I know. I'm sorry."
Rebecca wailed as she buried herself into his chest. Bruce just held her, offering her silent comfort as she cried her heart out for the sister she would never see again.
Eventually, Rebecca cried herself out, and Bruce kissed her temple.
"Sleep, Becky." He advised. "You need to rest. Go to sleep."
Rebecca hiccuped from where she had her face against his soaking shirt. He shifted her so she was against his dry shoulder, and Rebecca sniffled.
"Thank you, Bruce." She murmured quietly. "For everything."
"Don't thank me." Bruce answered, his heart tugging with guilt and aching with her pain. "I don't deserve it."
"You do." Rebecca whispered as her eyes fluttered closed. "You really do… and I love you… so much..."
She trailed off, and moments later Bruce could feel the tell-tale heavy breaths that said Rebecca had finally managed to fall asleep.
He waited for another few minutes to make sure she truly fell into a deep sleep before he shifted, moving her to be in his arms. Carefully, he lifted her off the sofa and carried her to his room where he tucked her into his larger and likely more comfortable bed.
He paused to gaze down at her tear-stained face, her pale skin making the dark circles under her eyes all the more prominent. He lifted a hand to move one lock of red hair away from her face and Rebecca shifted in her sleep. He stilled, and she sighed though her brows continued to furrow as she slept fitfully.
He edged away quietly, closing the door softly behind him before he leant heavily against the wall.
"She's not the only one who needs sleep, Master Wayne."
Bruce looked up at Alred's soft reproach, and Alfred gazed sympathetically back at his lost young master.
"Rachel died because of me, Alfred." Bruce said hoarsely and Alfred raised a brow.
"Is that what Miss Rebecca said?" He inquired and Bruce shook his head.
"No. But it doesn't make it less true." Bruce said despairingly. "I incited the Joker, I inspired this, this madness."
"You have inspired good." Alfred replied gravely. "But you spat in the face of Gotham's criminals- didn't you think there might be casualties?"
Bruce bowed his head while Alfred continued, "Things were always going to have to get worse before they got better."
"But it cost Rachel." Bruce said in despair. "She died for no reason."
"I think Miss Rachel would be insulted to be thought of that way." Alfred observed and Bruce shot the butler a look.
"I'm being serious here." Bruce said, but Alfred countered, "As am I, Master Wayne."
The elderly gentleman peered at his young master and questioned, "If you were to be killed whilst battling criminals like Dr. Crane or Mr. Maroni, would you blame Miss Rachel or Miss Rebecca?"
"Of course not." Bruce sighed, and Alfred queried, "So why must you be blamed?"
"Because I was supposed to protect them." Bruce replied, knocking his head back on the wall. "I swore I would and now Rachel's dead. And it could easily have been Rebecca."
"Batman cannot be sworn to protect select people." Alfred reminded with a warning tone. "We have discussed this in the past, Master Wayne."
"What good am I, if I can't even protect the people I care about." Bruce shot back.
"A hero." Alfred replied gravely. "Someone who places the needs of the great above his own desires."
"I'm no hero." Bruce answered darkly, and Alfred raised a brow.
"Would you say Commissioner Gordon is a hero?" He questioned and Bruce nodded.
"Yes."
"Is Miss Rebecca?" Alfred asked, and Bruce rubbed his face.
"Of course she is." He answered, and Alfred pressed, "And Miss Rachel."
"What's your point, Alfred?" Bruce asked, tired of Alfred's questions.
"My point, Master Wayne, is that there are other people who in their ordinary jobs fight crime, put the people's needs first, and make sacrifices to keep ordinary people safe." Alfred replied.
"Perhaps they don't want to risk their lives, but they will if they must. Miss Rachel, bless her soul, was such a woman. She knew what it could cost her to chase down Falcone, Dr. Crane, the other mob leaders, and this man who calls himself the Joker. Yet she did so regardless because she believed that it was worth that sacrifice."
Bruce remained silent while Alfred peered at him.
"As does Miss Rebecca."
Bruce turned his head away, and Alfred patted his shoulder.
"I am not saying you shouldn't grieve, Master Wayne." The elderly butler said kindly but firmly. "Or that Miss Rebecca shouldn't mourn her sister's death. But do not let it paralyze you."
He withdrew his hand as he finished, "Gotham needs you."
"Gotham needs its hero." Bruce muttered. "And I let the Joker blow him half to hell-"
"Which is why for now, they'll have to make do with you." Alfred answered.
Alfred handed him the Batman cowl and Bruce stared at it for a long time before looking back at his oldest friend and ally.
"That bandit." Bruce began and Alfred tensed just slightly. "In the forest in Burma... Did you catch him?"
Alfred's eyes were sad but he nodded.
"How?" Bruce pressed and Alfred seemed to search his young master's eyes.
"We burned the forest down." Alfred finally answered quietly, his tone uneasy.
Bruce nodded and he looked down at the cowl in his hand before his fingers curled and he fisted the fabric.