CHAPTER XIX

I stood there in the apartment for about a quarter of an hour, gazing at the blood-soaked walls and wondering what meaning it all held for the Joker. I, lamenting and tearing up every few seconds, got in the Batmobile with a perspective blurred by sadness. I took off the mask and headed home. Upon arriving, I didn't immediately go into the Batcave, instead taking time to dry my eyes and put the mask back on. When I exited the Batmobile, I noticed Dick sitting without his feet on the desk, with the headset off. He leaned forward, his back away from me, and he sighed heavily and shakily. When I walked up to him, he turned the chair around, and I saw that he had been crying as well. I took off my mask and squatted to be eye-level with him. "They look happy, don't they?" said Dick, turning around a photo he was holding. It was of him and his parents, when Dick was maybe ten years old. I glanced towards the photo of my family.

Choking up, I said, "Yeah…they do." Dick smiled through the tears and said, "You know, you and me? We're a little bit the same. We've each gone through…we've each seen terrible things happen to our families and the people around us, and…ourselves. I mean, look at me. You walked in on me breaking and entering." "Well," I said, "I was a druggie, so I suppose by comparison breaking into a mansion isn't the worst." We both laughed bitterly, knowing we were each damaged people, people who might put on snarky or tough facades, but were really scared of the world because we had seen its nature. I put on the Batman identity so no other kid would have to see his parents taken from him so cruelly, to prevent those same kids from contemplating drugs or stealing or suicide or selling themselves. I put on the Batman identity so that by losing my real self, others could keep theirs. I scared criminals so others wouldn't be afraid of the world. I did it for kids like Dick.

I picked up the photo of my family, staring long and hard at a memory, a second, no longer existent but at the same time immortal. More importantly, this memory was good. A real, substantial good memory. Not the filler Halcyon put in. I said, "You know, Dick, I think you're right." Dick smiled. "I'll leave you alone," I began saying. "No," said Dick, "It would be nice to have someone here who…who understands." He looked up at me and I saw he had begun crying again. We both stood up, and Dick suddenly threw himself forward, hugging me. Surprised, I responded in kind, and I began crying as well, saying, "I understand. I understand…" After about a minute, we separated, and Dick said, "Okay, that's all the touchy-feely I can stand." We both laughed, and I said, "You know, I may live in a mansion, but I have no idea how long it's been since I've had just a good ham sandwich." Dick smiled, and we both went into the manor.

Alfred was there at the door, and when he saw the state we were in, he said, "I assume it was emotional back there?" "Yeah," I said, "You could say that." Alfred nodded and said, "Well, it's none of my business, so I suppose I shall just dust the shelves on the other side of the house." I said, "Thanks, Alfred." As he walked away, he said, "It's really no trouble. After all," he concluded, turning around and walking backwards, "I like cleaning. It's just how a butler is." Dick and I went into the pantry, and I grabbed sliced ham, lettuce, cheddar, tomatoes, mustard, mayo, and whatever else you might put on your everyday sandwich. "Now," I said, "Preparing a sandwich may seem simple, but really, it's an incomparably fine art. You have to put your condiments on in such a way that taste is maximized." "You have this down to a science, don't you?" said Dick. "Yes," I said, "And what a very practical science it is." I smiled and began making mine.

Five minutes later, Dick and I were munching on our custom sandwiches. Dick had used pickles, mustard, pepper jack cheese, and onions. I went for mayo, lettuce, cheddar, and tomatoes. Alfred eventually entered and said, "I take it I won't need to cook dinner?" "Only for yourself, Alfred," I said. "Oh," said Alfred, "I think I'll take the path of least resistance and just make a sandwich." Alfred put everything on his, and all three of us sat at the table, not saying a word, just enjoying some good eating. I got an alert on my phone. It had notified me of Harvey being moved to the hospital. I had set the alarm for just such an event. Dick said, "What's up?" "Dent," I said, "He's at the hospital. I was going to see him." "Why?" asked Dick. "Because," I replied, finishing my sandwich, "even someone like him could use a visitor." I walked out and into the Batcave, donning my suit and heading towards the hospital.

I got to the hospital to discover that the police were also present. I walked up to Jim and said, "So, what're you guys doing here?" "Making sure no one tries to kill him or get him out," responded Jim. "I'm going to go see him," I said. Jim didn't respond to me, instead answering his phone. Jim nodded, gesturing outside. I realized I'd have to get through the window. Just a few minutes later, I came into Harvey's room. I stood over him, noticing the newer bandages already soaked with blood. There was a steel in his eyes as he painfully turned to look at me and said, "Hi…Batman. Looks like…you and I both screwed up." I sat in a chair and said, "I know apologies won't get me anywhere. So I'll just ask you: who hired you to run guns?" Harvey laughed and then coughed up some blood violently. Afterwards, he wheezed, "I've already…told the Joker all this." "Just answer," I said. Harvey told me his name. Joseph, I thought, Interesting.

Harvey continued, "You know, the…funny thing is…it only really hurt for a minute…and then my nerves were destroyed…after that, it just feels funny. Wish I could…do something about this…hair, though." I sighed and said, "That's all I needed to know. I'll leave you now." Harvey flipped his damaged coin and said, "Yeah…sure." I exited while Harvey stared at each side of his coin in turn, simultaneously feeling the burned side of his head. I headed back to Wayne Manor, returning after Dick had gone to bed. I put up my suit and went inside the manor. I looked to Alfred and said, "Alfred, I feel like I've failed. The Joker got what he wanted." "Well," said Alfred, "as the saying goes, you can't win them all." "Yeah well," I said, "losing this one meant deaths. It meant loss of limbs. It meant disfigurement." "I'm going to let you know something," said Alfred, "You care about the heinous criminals the Joker was targeting. That in and of itself tells me you're a good man. And in the end, good men don't always win. But that doesn't mean they can't." He left me with that valuable piece of wisdom. I stayed on the couch till I fell asleep.

The next morning, I felt someone flick my ear and say, "YO. Get yourself up. Look at what's on." I opened my eyes to see Dick's face three inches from mine. Looking at the TV screen, I saw a helicopter shot of the hospital, where, as the headline read, Harvey Dent had escaped from last night. "To pull something like that," said Dick, "these guys would have to be pretty crazy." "Or really good," I said. The story went that two armed men scaled the side of the building after killing several passers-by, afterwards getting into Dent's room and getting him out via stretcher. Then, they covered their tracks with a bandolier loaded with grenades. "Yep," I said, "Really good." I immediately put on the suit and headed to the hospital, meeting Jim at the entrance. "Hey," I said, "How's the cleanup been?" "Okay, considering," said Jim, "Fortunately, no other casualties occurred in the hospital. But still…if only there weren't any at all." I nodded, and out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a flash.

I turned quickly to see a streak of red hair go around a corner. As I walked towards it, Jim said, "What is it?" "Just a nuisance," I replied, "I'll be back soon." I went around the corner and ran behind the dumpster, seeing Barbara Gordon curled up with her camera. "H-hi," she said nervously. I lifted her up by her arm and took hold of both her shoulders, saying, "What were you doing there?" "Who's that?" I heard Dick say through my earpiece. I didn't answer him, instead continuing, "Were you photographing me?" "Yes," said Barbara, "I…guess you'll have to break my camera now, huh?" "Uh, no," I said, "If I wanted to get rid of the photos, I could just delete them. But I still want to know." "Look," she said, "I just wanted to see how you worked. I mean, I know my dad's the commissioner, and that's cool and all, but…you're just cooler." "Yeah, that's great," I said, "but I can't let you stay here. Your dad and me wouldn't want you seeing this." She stared at me.

She soon ventured to say, "Why?" "Because," I said, "Jim and I have already seen things like this before, and we know what it can do to a person…what it can change them into." I had seen the dead pedestrians, which included a mother killed while walking with her baby in a stroller. Most took it in the head. The baby laid crying in the stroller for a few minutes before a nurse took it inside the hospital. As the nurse took it in, I wondered what it would be like for that baby. Would it go through foster care, bouncing from one house to the next? After all, the mother didn't have a ring on her finger. Would the kid end up with neglecting relatives? Would the kid turn to crime? Would he lead a normal life? Would he do what I do? I didn't know. And so, I held Barbara back, not wanting her to worry either. "Go home," I said. She turned and walked away.

I went over to Jim, saying, "It's been taken care of. Nothing to worry about." Jim nodded and said, "Well, I'm glad you came to take a look. We've got it. You can rest." "Thanks," I said. I went back home. After going back into Wayne Manor, Dick greeted me by saying, "So, who was it you were talking to?" "Barbara Gordon," I said, "She's Jim Gordon's daughter." "Hm," said Dick, "I think I'll look her up on Facebook." He walked into his room and returned a minute later, grinning widely and saying, "Wow. A girl like that could put steam in a man's stride." I furrowed my brow and said, "You're not getting too…excited over her, are you? Because if you are, I'm getting rid of our wifi." "No, no," said Dick, "I mean, don't get me wrong, she's hot, but I want to get to know someone before I get…excited." "Right," I said sarcastically, "That's sounds just like you." "Of course it does," said Dick.

That night, I thought of all that had happened in the last few weeks. I still felt I'd failed, despite Alfred's words. I still felt that I was useless. A baby was orphaned that day, because I failed. Harvey Dent, as bad as he really was, had his face nearly destroyed, because I failed. The Joker was created in the first place, because I failed. That was the mindset I had, and it's been the mindset that's carried me farther in my journey. But then again, I had succeeded in other areas. Dick was safe. Dick, who, not too long ago, was breaking into my house, was now a happy, energetic teen who was also one of my best friends. After all, Alfred's words did hold some meaning. I can't win them all, but I can win many other times. Dick is just one example. There was still a few things that had to happen before this part of my story ended. I still had to talk to a few more people. I still had to talk to the Joker.