All Bruce could see was the Joker's lifeless body. That somber peaceful smile graced across his dead lips. He looked so...happy. like he had finally been freed from the pain of his life.
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Even though he was far far away from it now. He just couldn't stop seeing it in his head. It almost didn't seem real. As if it was just some horrible nightmare that he couldn't wake up from. How could the Joker be dead?
And why couldn't he get the way his eyes looked out of his head? The Joker's eyes had always had this vacantness in them. But they were far far beyond vacant. It was like it wasn't even him, like he wasn't even there anymore. Like his body was just some empty shell. That's what it's like staring into dead eyes. You just see the absence of their soul. And yes, even the Joker had had a soul. But maybe Bruce was the only one who ever truly saw it.
He was in shock. The bad ass dark knight was in shock. A type of shock most people don't ever experience. He couldn't even remember driving the Batmobile back to the bat cave. He didn't remember removing his cowl. Nor did he remember drinking half a bottle of whiskey. But as Alfred pried it from his hand he suddenly snapped back to reality.
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"Sir are you alright?!" Alfred's voice pitches, as if he's been trying to get Bruce's attention for quite some time. Had he been? Bruce wasn't sure.
Bruce's eyes slowly meet Alfred's but all he can still see is the death in J's eyes. And it made Bruce feel like he was dying inside... His words come out hollow and distant, slurred from alcohol, "Jason killed him," was all Bruce could manage to get out.
Alfred didn't have to ask him what he meant. He knew exactly what he was saying. Jason had killed the Joker and taken his place once more. Alfred doesn't say anything, he just goes into action trying to help Bruce up off the floor of the batcave.
"He's gone Alfred...he's really gone," he drunkenly mumbles and soon breaks out into deep sobbing as Alfred's arms go around him soothingly. He didn't know what else to do.
"I'm so very sorry for your loss Master Bruce," he sympathetically says.
But Bruce quickly pulls away from him. His brows furrow together as anger sweeps his face all at once. "No you're not! You're glad he's dead!" He drunkenly shouts and jerks the whiskey bottle from Alfred's hand. He takes another huge gulp praying to erase the pain. But it wasn't working.
