"Master Bruce, I can't get ahold of Master Dick or Master Tim," said Alfred, as Batman climbed out of the Batmobile in the Batcave. "Do you suppose something's happened to them?"

Batman said nothing, heading over to the Batcomputer and uploading the data from his helmet. "Sir?" repeated Alfred. "Did you hear me?"

"Yes," retorted Batman, playing the footage of Barbara being tortured. "Dick is dead. And Tim has been kidnapped, along with Barbara. I need to find out where they've been taken," he continued, scanning the screen and zooming in on a stone in the background with a picture carved into it. It was a picture of a beetle, and surrounding it was a mass of symbols detailing the Chronicles of Arkham.

"Arkham," muttered Batman, eyes narrowing. "I might have known. That's where they're keeping Tim and Barb."

Alfred stared at him. "But you said Miss Barbara was safe…"

"I lied," interrupted Batman. "I lied because I can't…think straight right now, Alfred," he whispered, clapping his hand to his head. "It's Joker, he's…he's so strong now…I lost control of myself at GCPD, I murdered Harvey, I…"

"Sit down, Master Bruce," said Alfred gently, helping him into a chair. "Now take a deep breath, and look at me," he said, kneeling down next to him. "And then tell me the whole story, as calmly as you can."

Batman did. When he was finished, Alfred stood up. "And you think if you face the Joker's child again, the father will take over completely?" he asked, slowly.

"He wants to," said Batman.

"Damn right I do!" exclaimed Joker. "And I don't think anybody can blame me for wanting to just be one big happy family! Batsy secretly wants it too – he never had a real family of his own, and that's all he's ever wanted! He's giving in to me because he wants what I have, only he's too ashamed to admit he's willing to kill to get it!"

"I don't know how to fight him when he's inside of me," whispered Batman. "I can't fight him after all I've been through tonight. The pain of loss has made me weak. I'm too weak to stop him now, and he knows it."

"The loss of your parents made you stronger," said Alfred. "And the loss of the Joker could have too, if you had allowed yourself to mourn him. I understand why you didn't want to – it would have seemed wrong somehow, to feel sorry that that horrible maniac was dead. You didn't need to mourn his many victims, so why him? But you did need to grieve for him, sir. And you can now. You can accept that he's dead…"

"He's not dead!" shouted Batman. "He's here inside my mind!"

"Is he, sir?" asked Alfred, quietly. "Or do you just want him to be?"

"Why would I want that?" demanded Batman.

"To excuse yourself when you do terrible things," said Alfred. "You can blame them on Joker, rather than on yourself."

"Alfred, let me show you the evidence," said Batman, turning to the Batcomputer. "If you don't trust my word, I have scientific proof, blood samples…"

He opened a folder on the computer and gestured to the data inside. "There. Look at that."

Alfred nodded slowly. "That does seem conclusive, Master Bruce," he said.

"Great. So now that we've established that I'm not crazy, why don't you figure out how to help me fight him?" asked Batman.

Alfred was silent. "I told you, sir, I think you need to grieve his passing," he repeated. "And Master Dick's too."

"How do you suggest I do that?" demanded Batman. "Cry? Break down in tears?"

"If you feel it would help, sir," said Alfred, nodding. "But only you know if that would. You need to express your feelings in order to overcome them."

"This is crap!" exclaimed Joker, throwing up his hands. "Total crap! This guy is meant to be English, and they're meant to be all stoic and repressed! He should be telling you how to get over your feelings, not give into them! There's no time for that, especially since Oracle and Robin are in danger! We need to get over to Arkham right away, and stop wasting time with pointless chit-chat!"

"Alfred, there must be some way for me to shore up my mental strength," said Batman. "I can't do that by breaking down in tears."

"That's the only way you can do that, sir," said Alfred. "Acceptance makes you strong. That's how you worked through your parents' deaths. You cried every night…"

"I was a child!" roared Batman.

"You're still a child, sir," said Alfred, gently. "We all are, when we lose someone close to us. You might not cry now, I certainly wouldn't expect that of you, but you must allow yourself to accept the pain. Embrace what you perceive as weakness, and you will grow stronger, I promise you. Allow yourself to be vulnerable to your grief for everyone you have lost tonight and before. That's the only way you can build yourself up again. You have to be honest with yourself and your feelings."

"This is crazy talk," said Joker. "And I should know. Be vulnerable and weak to be strong? Break down in tears to build yourself up again? Maybe if this were Bizarro World, but it isn't! And there's no time for these stupid, silly gestures when there's real danger to people you care about! How will crying save Robin and Oracle? How will being vulnerable and weak do that? He doesn't know what he's talking about!"

"Sir, you need to confront the grief," said Alfred. "Tell me again what happened with Master Dick."

"He's…he's dead," stammered Batman. "And I…couldn't save him."

"And what happened with the Joker?" pressed Alfred. "He's dead too, isn't he?"

"He is, but…" began Batman.

"No, no buts," interrupted Alfred. "You need to say unequivocally that the Joker is dead, and you couldn't save him. Just like you couldn't save your parents. Keeping him alive inside your mind doesn't change that fact. You need to face your failure."

"I…I have failed," admitted Batman. "To save Dick and Tim and Barbara. And I'll fail again, because I'm not strong enough…"

"There is no one stronger than you, sir," interrupted Alfred. "Because your strength is not what you think it is. Your strength is in how much you care, for this city, for its people, for everyone close to you, and even for your enemies. The Joker's death broke you because you cared for him, as horrible and evil and twisted as he was. You would have saved him, because you've always wanted to save everyone. And if there had been some way to do that, you wouldn't have rested until you could have saved him. Not because he deserved it, and not for his own sake, but for yours."

Alfred knelt down next to him again. "For fifteen years you shut yourself away. And you forgot you cared about anyone, even yourself. You let Joker get ahold of your mind because you had given up on the one thing he could never understand – genuine, unconditional love. Not the selfish kind of love he and Miss Quinn shared, but a deep, noble desire to help your fellow man, with no expectation of reward. To make the world a better place due to pure, unselfish altruism. The Joker always thought you were crazy to believe in that, and to want that, because he could never understand the mind of a good man. But you are a good man, sir. Whatever you've done, that remains true. And if you forget that, or if you deny that because of what you've done tonight, then the Joker will claim you. If you begin to think like he did, you will become as bad as he was. You must fight him, sir, by being the better man. And you are the better man because of your feelings. Embrace them, sir, don't try to shy away from them or repress them. Let them out."

"I have feelings!" snapped Joker. "I have lots of feelings! And right now, I'm feeling a pain in my ass, and its name is Alfred!"

"Love can be…a horrible thing," said Batman, slowly. "It always causes pain, because you'll always lose it eventually. I cared about Jim so much that I…killed his murderer. Love drove me to kill Harvey. I can let my feelings out, but my feelings aren't just benevolent and cathartic. They're full of rage and anger and hatred…"

"Yes, that's the Joker, sir," said Alfred. "Let him out too. Let him go – release his hold on your mind."

"I don't hate anybody!" snapped Joker. "Except maybe you, old timer! You're really starting to bug me! Pretending you know the first thing about me, or Batsy, when I'm the one in his head! You don't understand him, and you never have! You thought this whole Batman thing was some noble endeavor to save people, to bring justice to a city ravaged by crime, to make sure no other child lost their parents the way he lost his! But look what he's actually done! He beats up the mentally ill, creates supercriminals eager to challenge him, causes violence and property damage, and takes in orphan kids and lets them loose on dangerous missions against lunatics so they die! He killed me, and left my son without a father, the exact opposite thing he always wanted to do! Sure, maybe initially he had good intentions, but for a long time Batsy has been nothing but a violent bully, inflicting pain on people as revenge for the pain he suffered from losing his parents! He's a grown child dressing up in a Halloween costume, crying over Mommy and Daddy, and having a temper tantrum as he lashes out at everyone else! That's all this is, and that's all this ever was! You're his father figure, so you refuse to see how horribly your kid has turned out – that happens sometimes with parents, so I hear, blinded to the monsters their children become because they look at them through the eyes of love. But I see him clearly, because I'm here in his mind! I know the darkness that lurks there, and I laugh at it, because I've always been able to laugh at the darkness. But you would be absolutely horrified to see who your son really is, and what he's capable of."

"Stop it," hissed Batman, clapping his hands to his ears. "Stop it, Joker. Shut up! You don't know anything about me! Shut up!"

"Fight him, sir," said Alfred, encouragingly. "You can fight him. I know you can. You're stronger than him…"

"I'm not!" exclaimed Batman. "Not anymore!"

"You are!" insisted Alfred. "Because he's dead. Say it, Master Bruce. You must say it."

"Joker is…Joker is dead," stammered Batman.

"No, I'm not!" shouted Joker. "I'm right here! You can see me, so how can I be dead?"

"You are," whispered Batman. "You're not real – you're just a delusion in my head, created by grief…"

"I've never felt so alive!" interrupted Joker. "And neither have you, have you, Brucie? Tonight's been the most alive you've felt in fifteen years, and it's all because of me. If you deny me, you might as well be dead, because you'll have to admit you're crazy. Only a crazy person would imagine a lunatic living in his head. Only a crazy person would delude themselves into thinking there's scientific proof for his hallucinations. That's the darkness within yourself you can't embrace, that you never could embrace. You're as crazy as I am, and you always have been. But admitting that would destroy you more than I ever could have. You're not strong enough to admit that, are you? Are you?" he repeated louder, suddenly seizing Batman around the throat.

"Alfred, he's…he's taking control again!" gasped Batman, trying to prise Joker's hands off his throat. "I can feel it…he's seizing control of me…you have to do it now!"

"No, sir…" began Alfred.

"Do it!" shouted Batman, desperately trying to push Joker away from him. "While I can still control him! Do it now!"

Alfred didn't hesitate, seizing a practice saber. "Forgive me, sir," he whispered, approaching him with the blade raised.

He was about to bring it down, when Batman's gauntlet clashed against it. "Et tu, Alfredo?" murmured Batman, his eyes glowing as a strange smile lit up his face. He chuckled dryly, and Alfred's heart sank to hear it.

"Master Bruce…" he began.

"Master Bruce is gone," interrupted Batman, his smile widening. "There's only Joker now."

"Sir, he's not real, listen to me!" exclaimed Alfred, dropping the saber and seizing him by the shoulders. "Look at the screen! There's nothing wrong with your blood, there's no evidence there! Whatever's wrong with you is all in your mind – it's a hallucination! The Joker is dead, and he's been dead for fifteen years! This is some madness that's seized you, but you have to let it go! You have to…"

He choked as Batman suddenly plunged the saber into his heart. "I don't appreciate being called crazy," he muttered. "Especially not by the help."

He wrenched the sword out of Alfred's chest, and his body fell to the ground. "And good help is so hard to find these days," sighed Batman, glancing at the blade and watching the blood drip off it. "I should know. Every one of my allies captured or killed because they're a bunch of incompetents. Looks like it's up to me to save the day, as usual," he sighed, dropping the sword and heading back to the Batmobile. "Fortunately sonny boy seems to be competent at least – it'll be nice to have a family who won't fail me. A real family at last."