It had been three days since the Joker's death, and all of Gotham was in an uproar over it. Everyone had heard how the Caped Crusader had finally stopped the Clown Prince of Crime once and for all, and for the first time in a long time, they were able to relax, to a certain degree, of course. While the city was in no way free from crime, one of its biggest threats was finally gone. It was almost enough to convince the Batman to resume fighting crime, almost.
Catwoman was in a coma. The doctors doubted she would ever wake up, and had suggested they just pull the plug. Batman had intervened and ensured that she would be kept alive. He cared for her so much, and he had lost so much already, there was no way he would let them take her from him, too.
Nightwing had returned to Blüdhaven, but not before repeatedly making sure that Batman wouldn't reconsider his decision. Oracle had considered calling Batman and making sure he was okay, but didn't want to bother him, feeling that if he wanted to talk about the incident he would call her.
The Joker was being laid to rest that day. Since no one wanted the Joker buried anywhere near their loved ones, they had chosen a very old cemetery where no one had been buried in years. Hundreds of people gathered for the grave-side ceremony, a few adoring fans, but mostly people who came not out of respect, but because they wanted to see the clown put in the ground, as though they needed to see his grave for themselves before they would believe he was actually dead.
The funeral was being broadcast live for all of Gotham to see. In the front row sat Harley Quinn in her Arkham uniform with her hands cuffed and surrounded by three guards. She had pleaded and made several threats against her own life and the lives of the doctors to be allowed to see the man she loved laid to rest, she had even promised that she wouldn't break out of Arkham if they would let her attend the ceremony. Her doctor had reluctantly agreed, believing it would give her closure and help her to move on. She was doing an impressive job of keeping herself composed, no doubt trying to be strong for her Puddin'.
A priest began to speak then and said a prayer for the Joker's soul. The man awkwardly tried his best to come up with something nice to say about the Joker, because when someone dies no matter how awful they were in life people come up with nice things to say about them in death, but he could think of little to say other than that he had been a very intelligent man. After he had finished, he asked if anyone else would like to speak. As it turned out, many people had many things to say about the Joker, which mainly consisted of how they had been affected by the Joker's crimes and why they hated him and how happy they were he was finally dead. One man stated that he was expecting the Joker to rise from the grave, because according to him, "Not even Satan would want a man like that." One or two people tried to speak about how they admired the Joker, but the crowd yelled and cursed at them until they left.
"Is there anyone else who would like to speak?" asked the priest politely, obviously tired and hoping that they could end the ceremony.
"I wanna say somethin'," piped up Harley.
Her guards followed her to the front of the crowd. Harley bit down on her lower lip and tugged at one of her pigtails as she readied herself to speak.
"Ya'know, if Mistah J were here today, he'd have all of you wear clown masks and party hats, and he'd make ya form a big conga line and spray Joker venom in your faces to make ya laugh and smile. After all, my Puddin' always did put the "fun" in "funeral"," said Harley as she wiped away a tear. "But he's not here with us, because he was taken from us, stolen from me, by the Batman!" she said angrily. "All I ever wanted was to settle down with my Puddin' and live happily ever afta', but my dreams were obliterated three nights ago when the Batman crashed the party and murdered the love of my life. I know none of you liked him, but you can't deny that Batman is the real monster! You!" she shouted as she pointed a finger at one of the men who had spoken. "You were talking about the devil before, well I got news for ya, Batman is the devil!"
Her guards grabbed her by the arms and led her back to her seat as she ranted, "You'll all see! Batman is the one to blame for all our problems! He's the reason we have all these psychos runnin' around, and now that he's killin' people, things are only gonna to get worse for you!"
By the time Harley was placed back in her seat, she had regained control of herself. It was then that the priest said a final prayer and they began to lower the coffin into the ground. But before they could, before her guards could stop her, Harley ran and jumped on top of the coffin.
"Don't put him down there, don't put him down there where he'll be all alone in the dark. Please let me be with him," sobbed Harley. She turned her tearful gaze up to the sky and pleaded, "Please give him back to me! Can't you see I need him? I love him and we're supposed to be together! Give him back and take me instead! Or better yet, take the Batman and give me back the Joker!"
Her guards rushed up and, as they dragged her away, Harley shouted, "I swear on Mistah J's grave that I will avenge him, I will destroy the Batman and make him pay for what he's done, or die trying!"
The priest addressed the crowd and awkwardly said, "Keep the poor woman in your prayers, that she will make a full and speedy recovery."
The Joker's coffin was then lowered into the ground, and Batman turned off the TV. He felt sorry for Harley, and he wondered if she could really be cured after what had happened. He had always believed that she could recover if they could get her away from the Joker, but now that he was dead, he wondered if the fact that he had been taken from her so forcefully would prevent her from healing. If only she had chosen to leave him, then she could heal, but all they could do was hope that she could move on regardless.
The sun was setting outside, and having nothing better to do, he went outside for a walk. As soon as the sun had disappeared completely, the Bat-signal immediately appeared in the sky, calling him for help. He felt a powerful urge to don the cowl once more and help the police, but he couldn't. How could he protect these people if he couldn't control himself? Ever since the first time he had put on the bat-suit, ever since the first time he had captured a criminal, he had struggled with the darkness that had always threatened to consume him. There was a fine line between vigilantism and criminality, and for years he had danced on it. For so long he had stood at the edge of the pit of insanity, gazing down inside but never taking the plunge or letting anyone shove him into it. But now… now he didn't know what to think anymore. He had always felt that temptation to give law-breakers exactly what they deserved, but had always resisted, with much difficulty. But now that temptation was more powerful than ever, he wanted to go out and save the innocent, he wanted to make the monsters who terrorized and tormented Gotham pay for their deeds and to make them feel the pain they had put their victims through, he wanted to end them so that they could never hurt anyone ever again. He had always resisted because he had believed it to be the right thing to do, because he refused to sink down to their level, but now he was beginning to question everything he had ever believed in. That was why he could no longer be the Batman.
Just then, he heard a woman scream. Out of pure instinct he followed the sound. The streets were practically empty, and so chances of anyone coming to her rescue were slim at best. As he ran he pulled out his cell phone to call 911. He soon found the woman, cornered in an alley by some mugger with a knife. Once the man saw him, he drove the blade into the woman's chest and tried to make a run for it. He took chase after the man and easily caught up to him. Once he had caught up he grabbed him and forced him to face him. He immediately recognized him, he was a gangbanger who tortured and raped his women victims and killed them afterwards. How many times had he locked him away, only for him to escape and hurt others?
Holding him in place, Batman considered what he should do with the scum before him. The criminals he locked away always fell into two basic groups: those who learned their lesson the first or second time and gave up crime, and those who refused to learn their lesson and kept coming back for more. Unfortunately, the overwhelming majority fell into the latter group. If he brought this man to the police as he had done on several occasions, he would most likely escape again and hurt more women. But if he killed him… No, he refused to even consider it. But try as he might, he did consider it.
He had become Batman because he wanted to save lives and protect the people from the evil that plagued them. He had never killed because he believed it was wrong, and because he hated to see people die. But it suddenly occurred to him that every time he spared these people's lives, every life they took, the blood was on his hands. He was having an epiphany, he could have ended the madness so long ago but hadn't, and he was finally seeing the consequences of his refusal to kill. If he had killed the Joker just one year earlier he could have saved so many lives, and he couldn't even imagine how many he could have saved if he had killed him the first time they had fought, let alone the victims of every other supervillain. And that wasn't even taking into account the lives that had been taken by every other criminal in Gotham. He had become the Batman to put an end to crime, when in reality he had been feeding the disease, ensuring its survival by trying to do what he believed was right.
But no more. He took the man's knife and slit the his throat with it, feeling that same grim satisfaction in knowing that he had just saved many people by sacrificing one man. Even though he was forsaking nearly everything he had once believed in, it didn't matter to him, not anymore. In fact, he felt a great sense of release in knowing that he was finally going to help these people.
He went back to the Batcave and discarded his blood-soaked clothes. He then donned the cowl and cape once more, but this time, he would not be taking them off. For many years he had lived a double-life, and he had always known that he would eventually have to choose one or the other. He had planned to give up the cape at some point and retire, but he realized then that that wasn't a possibility. He needed to focus all of his energy on saving his city, and his former life was just getting in the way. He had been given a job to do, a duty to protect the people who couldn't protect themselves, and so he needed to focus all his efforts on doing whatever was necessary to fulfill the task he had been given. He let his old self die, and was reborn as the Batman once again, except this time, there would be no turning back. He was determined to bring peace to Gotham, and he would stop at nothing to do so.