Monday, August 3, 2009 – 10:05am – Gotham Cemetery; Gotham City, New Jersey

He didn't bring any flowers. He'd never given her any before, why start now. Instead he stood there awkwardly, hands deep in his pockets, hovering over her grave like some lost little kid.

A year later, and he still couldn't believe it. He still couldn't get over it.

She was his future.

The sun heated his back as it warmed the cemetery. The nights were cold and the days were hot, leaving the summer a muggy mess. The grass he stood on was mud underneath from the sprinklers and melted dew. It made his feet sink more the longer he stood there, as if the weight on his shoulders was pressing him further into the ground.

His dark eyes darted away finally, unable to read the text on the tombstone anymore.

Today was going to be a long day. He was still debating if he wanted to even bother going to City Hall for Harvey's memorial.

Maybe he could just sit here all day today. No one would come to visit, not with the holiday. Rachel's friends were Harvey's friends, too. And her mother was in a home, last he knew.

Maybe he could just hide here.

The wind picked up suddenly, ruffling his mussed hair and making the bangs fall into his eyes.

Point taken.

Withdrawing his hand to brush the hair from his brow, he paused before replacing it again. Instead he leaned forward and put the hand on the warm stone surface.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, knowing he couldn't say it enough times. She was the most important thing in his life, and he failed her. He failed her when he had the means and ability to save her. That's what made it worst of all.

Retrieving his hand, he shoved it roughly back in his pocket before turning away.

Monday, August 3, 2009 – 7:28pm – City Hall; Gotham City, New Jersey

"Perhaps if you tried to enjoy yourself, Master Wayne, you might find that you could possibly enjoy social events."

He sat at the red light, staring at the overrun City Hall in front of him while reminiscing the conversation he had with Alfred earlier.

"Batman is required to be skilled at all elements, is he not?" Alfred had prodded again while he finished adjusting Bruce's tie.

"Batman didn't socialize with criminals," Bruce muttered in response. Alfred had been poking and prodding gently about Batman for the past month. They both knew that the butler preferred the current condition of the cape and cowl: that it remained locked away, collecting dust. But Alfred was worried about Bruce, and the younger man knew the exact reason and, what's more, that it was very valid.

Besides all the talk of Batman, Bruce had found plenty of other things to do—such as helping Lucius in the subbasement, which was where he was before he was abducted by Alfred.

"All the more reason for Bruce Wayne to socialize, sir. One early evening of entertainment will not kill you."

City Hall was lit up and covered with movement, like a swarm of ants reacting to the sudden light. It was a lot of people. People he didn't want to deal with.

Couldn't he become the crazy old man who lives in the old manor? The old recluse who becomes as forgotten as everything else in this city?

Doing nothing did seem so tempting, especially since the taste he got over the past ten months was still rich. He still seemed to ache all over from that night a year ago, no matter how much rest he got. And remembering only made his scars throb.

The light turned green and he rolled through the intersection towards a stream of cars unloading their passengers. When he pulled up, he winced when he heard the squeals through the windows. They shouldn't be for him, he was getting too old for this.

As he emerged from the driver's side, lights flashed at him, making his last thought moot. He heard his name shouted from all directions alongside the questions that were flung at him, mostly about his hiatus, and for a moment, nearly all eyes were on him until most looked away, used to the Prince of Gotham getting more attention than he deserved. Drowing it out, he found the valet and handed him the keys to the Lamborghini before forcing through the crowd towards the entrance. Just because he had to be here didn't mean he had to play nice. There was no need to hide his identity anymore.

A hand grabbed his arm when he was barely ten feet in the door, and while his senses instinctively heightened suddenly, he kept his reflexes calm and casually glanced towards the owner of the hand. Mrs. Delane, a rich widow and one of Gotham's more charitable elites, was dressed in a full-length ocean blue gown with sleeves this time. The last time he had seen her in such formal wear had been only minutes before his manor had been burned to the ground. But Bruce was only slightly surprised that she was far from wary with him, unlike the rest of Gotham's citizens. It would take a lot more than a burnt down mansion with only plied causes to make her stop talking to the son of Martha and Thomas Wayne. A sweet old lady, and one he couldn't bear to take his bad mood out on. "Brucie, welcome back! I'm so delighted that you could make it. I hope your trip to Europe was enjoyable!"

The act she was putting on was almost as if she were putting on the party. "Mrs. Delane, no need to be the hostess—"

"The Wayne Foundation did such a wonderful job," she interrupted, waving her hand to shush hum. "With the help of the GCPD, we organized all of this."

"We?" He was stunned. Mrs. Delane had always seemed to be close to his family, attending every function and speaking to Bruce at every one she could, no matter how shunned he was at the time.

"Oh yes, Mr. Fox, Dr. Thompkins, and I. What a wonderful team effort it was. And look how splendidly it turned out." She just beamed with pride without Bruce even needing to compliment her work.

"It is quite an event," he commented.

"A city-wide holiday, up there with Columbus Day. We made it official. The first Monday of every August is now Dent Day, to remember him and all that he did for us."

All that he did for us. Bruce kept his mouth shut, but his thoughts raced. Harvey had been a loose cannon hanging on by a thread. He had refused to see it, so desperate to be with Rachel, to be rid of Batman. The incident with Thomas Shift should have bene proof enough for him, but instead he allowed the Joker to push him too far, to trigger him. Looking back, he wasn't surprised that Harvey went after Wertz and Ramirez, and anyone that got in his way. He wasn't surprised that Harvey was ready to die to avenge Rachel.

"Bruce, is everything alright?" Mrs. Delane asked, pulling him from his thoughts. Even in a chaotic mess such as the scene he was currently standing in the middle of, he could get lost in the past.

He nodded quickly, changing the subject. "You said that Mr. Fox and Dr. Thompkins helped you. Are they here?"

"Oh, they most certainly should be. But you know how those two are, always wrapped up in their work. I believe both of them said that they would try to make it."

Leave it to Fox to find a way to squeeze out of something like this. But unless Leslie truly was busy, she should be here. "Thank you, Mrs. Delane. I think I'll go look for them, in case they did decide to show up."

"Oh, of course dear. But be careful. Now that you're back in town, I hear that there are a number of young women who are hunting for you. Maybe one of these days you'll actually settle down, Bruce."

His timing was off tonight. He was staying too long and getting caught where he didn't want to be. "Maybe, Mrs. Delane. It was a pleasure seeing you,"

"As always, Brucie, you too," she trailed after him as he slipped between people to move up the steps and towards the entrance.