Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dick is incredibly lucky to have met someone like Wally.

Wally is everything Dick pretends he is. Happy, carefree, charming, funny, the life of the party in every situation. Sure, he uses it as a mask like they all do, ignoring the pain and the sleepless nights and the worry that someone won't come home. But Dick always thinks that Wally's smiles are so much more real than his own.

Those are the reasons he likes Wally. The reasons he loves Wally, are far, far deeper.

Wally is so amazingly kind, and sweet. He's an adorable dork, fumbling his words and apologising for being late on every date they go on. He can make Dick cheer up even when he's in his most depressive spirals. If Dick was being pessimistic, he'd say that without Wally, he wouldn't be alive right now. And while Wally has physically saved his life more times than he can count, they both know there is more to the statement.

Dick has had the worst ten months of his life. After a tiring mission off-world, he came home to questions about why he didn't attend the funeral, and it was through this that he had to learn what had happened. He can still hear Jason reluctantly laughing at his jokes and cackling as he punched criminals on the streets the few times Dick joined them for patrol. It hurts. It hurts so much, and the pain has barely lessened since the day he locked himself in his apartment and drank away the memories, babbling to a hallucination of the little brother he will never see grow up.

Not long after, he gained a new little brother and Bruce is cold to him - colder than usual - and Dick knows why. So he pulls on his mask - both of them - and smiles at his new brother as he teaches him to survive among the rooftops of Gotham.

Tim is shy, but he can talk about things for hours if you get him started, and he's so incredibly bright and talented. Dick vows to be the brother he never was for Jason, so it's no surprise that the Joker manages to break him so easily.

There's not even any proof that Tim is in danger, his comm and tracker might have been broken, but the Joker stands there, taunting him, and Jason's name leaves his mouth and Dick lunges at him-

Dick doesn't quite remember anything other than rage and satisfaction. The next day, Bruce told him the Joker was recovering in the hospital and he faked a sigh of relief.

He knows what he did. He can tell from the look on Bruce's face how close he came. And Bruce saved him. Saved the Joker. Bile rises in his throat at the thought.

He gets it. Bruce's code is unshakeable, and he sticks to it out of fear. Fear that he wouldn't be able to stop, fear that it would break down the world he's rebuilt since the day his parents died. Fear that he would regret it for the rest of his life.

Dick has known Bruce for 12 years, and he has learnt that Bruce sees the world through a very fixed perspective, as though his own worldview is the one that everyone else sees too. He projects his moral code onto those around him, and that is the reason the no-kill rule was always for his associates as well - Bruce simply cannot fathom the idea of killing someone with no regret or fear. Bruce believes that Dick feels the same way, so he did what he would have wanted someone to do if he had lost control, and alleviated any guilt Dick might have had over ending a man's life.

Bruce believes this because Dick wants him to. It's easier, to pretend that he is the moral clone of his adopted father, the perfect soldier even if Bruce refuses to acknowledge that that is what they are. But this is far from the truth.

Dick has lead an interesting life. He's travelled far and wide, with so many different people he sometimes forgets their names. He's been to hell and back as well as to galaxies far away. He's learnt a lot. There are many infamous names that Dick has learned from, but none stick with him more than Deathstroke.

Slade was obsessed with him. He said he had potential, and he wanted to train that. He said it would go to waste with Bruce. And he was right.

Slade was the only person he killed for. Only when he didn't have a choice, only when it was part of their deal, and Slade hasn't asked him to kill in years. But Renegade has red in his ledger.

Dick doesn't take any pleasure, or pride in it. But there's a sense of gratification, that he tells himself is the fact that he's rid the world of someone horrible - Slade promised he would never be asked to kill an innocent. Dick's moral code is just as flexible as he lets it be, and there was a cold realisation one day that he, unlike Bruce, knows he can stop. He's never considered being anything other than a vigilante/hero, but the fact he tries to ignore is that he is a good assassin. He's completed all of Slade's training, every mission he's been assigned. The feeling of success is thrilling, and he tells himself that's all it is.

And this train of thought brings him back to why he loves Wally so much, because Wally, above all, is understanding.

Wally was the one that dragged him out of his locked bathroom the day he found out Jason was dead. Wally was the one who held him as he explained what he had done as Renegade, and what he had almost done to the Joker. Wally sat there as he screamed curses at anything and everything, hugging him tight until he fell asleep in his boyfriend's arms.

Wally does not judge him for his actions. He does not judge him for his thoughts. He does not judge him, even when Dick admits in a whisper that he enjoys the rush of killing someone bad.

Wally cannot be scared off by anything, and everything Dick admits somehow makes Wally cling tighter. On better days, he'll joke about how Dick being a trained assassin is incredibly hot.

Wally is always there for him, Dick thinks, as he and Wally sit in front of a movie they aren't really watching. Dick had woken up from a nightmare, Jason's broken body flashing in his vision as the clown's laugh echoed in his ears. He'd called Wally, and Wally had answered as he had promised he always would, appearing a second later with snacks and extra blankets for Dick's cold Gotham apartment.

Dick glances towards his bedroom, staring through the walls at the hidden compartment in his drawer, containing a ring he had picked out just last week.

The silence is comfortable, but Dick's latest nightmare and his 3am musings have left him with anger coiling in his stomach and a dreadful sense of purpose.

********** (Imagine those are the splatters of the Joker's brains)

Dick breaks the silence with a question.

"Hypothetically," He says, and then pauses. Wally thinks he knows what's coming. He's been waiting for this ever since he dragged Dick out of the bathroom, a broken bottle in his hand, a dozen more lying about the apartment.

"Hypothetically, what would you do if I said I wanted to kill someone?" Dick asks the question quietly. They've discussed things like this, but never so directly. "Myself." He adds. "Not for Slade or anything."

Wally stays silent for a moment. He knows exactly what he would do, but he needs to phrase it right. There are multiple outcomes to this situation, and with all the scars he knows Dick has, physical and mental alike, he knows which one he prefers.

"I would ask you who." He starts, pausing to glance at Dick. His face is expressionless, emotions closed in the way only a Bat can master. Even Wally, who's known Dick for 9 years (though it feels like their entire lives), can't quite crack it.

"And I would ask you why." He continues. Dick trusts his judgement, and he trusts Dick's. But just like he said all those years ago, it's his job as a best friend to question Dick's objectivity. The question is not why he wants to kill, it's why they deserve to die. Dick knows this. They've never had to clarify things like this.

"And if I agreed, I'd help you hide the body." He doesn't smile, because this is not a joke, not a casual saying between friends. It's genuine, because this is their lives, in which they may genuinely end up with a body to hide, and in which Wally will be there for Dick every. single. time.

Silence falls again as Dick considers his answer. It's not quite uncomfortable, but it's not like it was a few moments earlier. This silence is charged by what has passed between them, and what both know this might lead to.

Five minutes pass before Dick speaks again.

"Joker." He whispers, and Wally nods. He's heard stories about the Joker ever since he met Dick. Every single thing he's heard has made Wally wish the clown dead, but it wasn't until Jason that that truly seemed like a possibility.

"He's killed so many people Wally." Dick's voice gets stronger as the anger that fuels him (has always fuelled him, though everyone chooses to ignore it) rises. "He's ruined countless lives, and he'll just continue to ruin more. He might be insane, but he'll never change. No rehab will fix him, even if he'd let it. And- and he paralyzed Babs, and he killed my little brother!" Dick screams these last words, letting out a dry sob before trying to calm down.

Dick has given ample objective reason for the Joker's death, but he screams it anyway - both of them know this is a mission of revenge. It always will be, whether the revenge is for Jason, or for Barbara, or for the people of Gotham. But Wally knows that this is not something Dick will ever regret.

He nods. "How can I help?" He asks.

********** (More bits of the Joker, yay!)

The next hour feels like it flies by, as they prepare like it's any other mission. Except this safehouse is not one Wally's been to before.

Dick pulls out his Renegade outfit, and hands Wally a suit. It's colours are dark, like his stealth suit, but the lightning bolt is missing - there can be no trace of who they really are on this mission. If all goes well, no-one will ever know it happened. And it will. Nightwing and Renegade aren't the best of the best for nothing.

When Dick presses a secret button and the wall slides back, Wally can’t help but whistle appreciatively at the sight of the collection of weapons. Despite only fighting hand-to-hand himself, he's watched enough action movies to respect a well-stocked weapons cupboard, and Dick gives him a tight grin as he sheaths two katanas onto his back and starts slotting daggers and revolvers into varying hidden pockets on his suit.

They make their way to Arkham in comfortable silence once more. Wally considers asking if Dick knows what he's going to do, but he decides against it. Dick already knows. Dick has been planning this for years in the dark corners of his mind.

Their infiltration plan is simple thanks to three key details; This is Arkham Asylum. He is Dick Grayson. And Wally West is a speedster.

Wally enters during a guard rotation, and only one man notices the light breeze that passes by, but he doesn't comment on it. Within seconds, a flash drive is installed and the security feed outside and inside the Joker's cell is looped. Another few seconds later, Wally drops off Renegade outside of the steel door whose password has also been hacked by the flash drive.

Wally almost says 'Good luck', but it doesn't feel right. Instead, he grins and whispers "Happy hunting."

He can almost see the smile that has just lit up on the other side of the mask.

********** (Almost there, then we get real Joker mush!)

Dick clicks open the door to the Joker's cell, and then closes it softly behind him.

He's never visited the Joker in Arkham. Bruce has, a few times to interrogate the clown about bombs he's planted, but Dick never needed to. He wishes he had, because seeing the Joker caged like this is gratifying in of itself. Or perhaps the joy sparking in his heart is at the idea that the Joker will never leave this place again.

The Joker's hands are shackled to the walls by lengths of chain, each hand attached to an opposing wall so he is forced to stay in the centre. He sits on the ground, seemingly muttering to himself. The room is devoid of anything. Untouched by the Joker's madness.

When Dick walks in, the Joker looks up.

He starts laughing. "Who do we have here?!" He cackles, because that's the only way he talks. The Joker only has one emotion, and it's manic laughter. Dick would like to prove that wrong.

"Officially, I am Renegade. Mercenary and assassin." Dick says. This is another performance. The Joker scares him just a tiny bit, even when he's contained, even when Dick holds all the cards and all the weapons he can carry. This cannot go wrong. If it does… well it doesn't bear thinking about.

"Ooh, fancy, fancy! And - unofficially?!" The Joker laughs like he does at everything, though there is curiosity in his words. Dick hates how well he knows the Joker's moods. He can probably read him as well as he can read Bruce, and the thought sickens him.

Dick slips the mask off of his face, revealing a familiar domino that he knows the Joker will recognise. "You killed my brother." He all but snarls at the clown.

Dick thinks he sees the laughter drop for just a fraction of a second, but it's gone so quickly he can't tell if he imagined it, replaced by more cackling. The sound is ringing in Dick's ears, and he hopes he can bear it just a little longer.

"Ooh, someone's angry!" The Joker yells. The walls are soundproof, which is good for the mission but bad for Dick as the voice bounces back at him, like a hundred Jokers all laughing at once. He steels himself, and the Joker catches the murderous look on his face.

"You?! You think you'll kill me?! Please, Batsy's rules are everything to you! You won't kill me! You can't!" The Joker's confidence is astounding, and Dick is proud of how well he's hidden this side of him. Even after nearly killing the man just a few weeks ago, the Joker cannot possibly believe that Nightwing would murder under his own steam.

"Oh I know." Dick says calmly, unsheathing a sword from his back and swinging it carelessly. "Batman is someone who I respect. He's a good man. But do you know what else Batman is, Joker?" He leans close to the clown's face, a glint in his eye. "Not here." He whispers.

The Joker's smile drops.

The Joker can feel other emotions, and the one he's feeling now is fear.

Dick grabs him by the scruff of the neck, lifts the sword, and slits his throat.

But not all the way. No, Dick isn’t going to let the Joker die so easily, not when he beat Jason with a crowbar before blowing up the warehouse and letting him die, lying in the rubble, of smoke inhalation of all things. Not when he caused Babs months of agonizing pain and a lifetime in a wheelchair. Not when Gotham city has suffered for the last 15 years in his shadow.

Blood bubbles out of the cut, flowing into the Joker's lungs and mouth until he can no longer make a sound. The silence is deafening. But Dick isn't done yet.

He pulls a knife out of its sheath and digs it into the Joker's shoulder. The Joker can no longer scream, but Dick watches in satisfaction as he writhes and more blood bubbles from his neck. Dick may be enjoying this too much, but he's not stopping now. This is retribution for all that this bastard has done to Gotham, and to his family.

As he drags the knife across the man's chest, he remembers his own experiences, the roles reversed, the Joker carving words into him as he screamed. The scars burn under his suit, and he yanks the knife out as he reaches the Joker's other shoulder. He stabs the knife into the Joker's chest again, as the letter starts to take shape.

"It's a J." He whispers to the clown, still dragging the knife carefully past the major organs and down towards his stomach, the dagger cutting through cloth and flesh like butter. "And it's not for you, it's for my brother. Jason. If there's any tiny bit of human left in you, it deserves to know the name of the boy it killed. And the reason you died." He twists the knife to the side, bringing it out and wiping the blood on the Joker's sleeve.

The clown is still alive. Dick has been taught how to keep him that way. The Joker will not die until he says so.

"And as for you…" Dick stands up, wiping the excess blood on his suit. "Do you want to know who Batman is, before you go?"

The Joker's eyes are dimming, but they seem to light up. The Joker has always been obsessed with Batman. This is information he has craved for years. Even dying cannot take that obsession from him.

Dick leans towards him, about to tell him a secret.

The Joker's expression turns to horror in the split second before the bullet hits him.

There is a bullet hole right between his eyes, but Dick isn’t finished. There are too many second chances in their universe, and Dick has been grateful for many of them, but the Joker will not get one. He fires the gun again, and again, and again, and again until the barrel is empty and the Joker's head is filled with bullet holes. His face is untouched, his characteristic smile turned fearful. He needs to be recognisable. The people need to see.

Dick takes a step back, pressing a button on his wrist. In a split second, the door is pushed open, and Wally enters the room.

For one horrifying moment, Wally stares at the Joker's body, and Dick is afraid. Afraid Wally will run from what he sees, run from the horror that Dick has committed -

But Wally turns to him and smiles. It's not particularly gleeful at the Joker's death, but it's proud. Wally is happy that Dick has accomplished what they both agreed needs to happen. And he's satisfied that Dick has gotten the revenge he deserved.

"It's over?" He whispers as though speaking any louder would be sacrilege. The Joker's presence could never be considered holy, but perhaps his death is.

Dick doesn't respond. He pulls out another revolver, and aims it at the Joker's head. 6 shots ring out. The Joker's body lies there, motionless. Dick turns back to Wally, relief clear on his face.

"It's over." He sighs.

********** (The Joker has successfully splattered!)

Dick collapses into Wally's arms as he says it. The emotions are catching up. There's no regret, there never will be, but the shock of it all is draining.

Wally leans down to kiss him, but Dick pushes him away.

"No way, not here." He mutters. Wally smiles mischievously.

"Aww, I was gonna say some sappy shit about 'love conquering all' - including evil clowns - and then recommend we make out! We've got time, they won’t find him 'til morning." He says casually, a glint in his eye. Dick admires him even more for his casual tone - he's just watched his boyfriend brutally murder someone, and he's suggesting a make-out session in the same room as the corpse. He doesn't know what he did in a past life to deserve someone like Wally. Something much better than murder, most likely.

Wally does make an interesting point though - though Dick is mostly focused on the making out part.

"Fine," He acquiesces, and Wally's eyes light up. "But there's no way we're having sex in here."

He follows Wally's gaze as he looks around the dingy, damp cell with the slashed up corpse of an insane clown lying in the middle. Wally's expression says a lot.

"Yeah. Wasn't planning on it, babe." He remarks dryly. Dick chuckles, and pulls him into a kiss.

********** (These might be stars now? It's getting sappy and romantic now the Joker's dead.)

They head back to the apartment eventually. Wally takes the flash drive back, but the program will keep running for hours. The Joker will most likely be found dead in the early morning. All of Gotham will know by the news at 10am.

They drop off their suits and weapons, and Wally watches as Dick folds his uniform carefully, placing it into a vacuum seal bag and locking it in a cupboard. Dick explains later that that's how he keeps things with sentimental value that also have bloodstains, since otherwise the blood will dry and crumble and get everywhere.

The fact that his boyfriend knows this is both scary/mildly concerning and very attractive. Wally accepted years ago that with Dick, the two are often one and the same.

When they finally crawl in through Dick's bedroom window, they are exhausted, both emotionally and physically. And yet neither can rest, because of what they have just done. This may well be a secret they will take to their graves.

Dick stares at Wally, his face bathed in Gotham streetlight, highlighting his freckles against his pale skin. Wally is beautiful, he always is, but in this moment, Dick is more in love than he ever thought possible. Wally who has always been there for him, Wally who just helped him commit murder, Wally who just helped him protect the entirety of Gotham and his family from the worst person he's ever met, who made a sappy joke while standing a few feet from a man Dick had just killed.

It's a weird moment, it's shit timing, but it's the time, is what he thinks as he fumbles for the secret compartment in the dresser drawer.

********** (Romantic stars begone, these are now romantic freckles)

Wally had gone to find something to eat in Dick's woefully understocked kitchen.

You might expect Wally to have been shaken by this experience. You'd be wrong.

Sure, Wally never really harms criminals when he fights them, it's not really in a Flash's skillset. But that doesn't mean he has an aversion to violence.

While Bruce has his strict code, Wally believes in people getting what they deserve in life, for better or for worse. He's not personally inclined towards killing anyone, the idea never felt quite right in his own hands, but he's not that opposed to it, not when the people deserve it.

And Dick… well Dick deserves the world, and if Wally could give it to him he would. But he settles for what he can give, being the best boyfriend he can possibly to be Dick. And he accepts that his boyfriend sometimes kills people, because some people deserve it. That's just Wally's opinion, and he's happy that Dick feels a satisfaction in ridding the world of a few people who are only going to make it worse.

He's just found the one thing that isn't cereal in the cupboards when Dick rushes into the room.

Dick looks very slightly frazzled, and his hair looks like he's been running his hands through it over and over again. He's holding something behind his back, and there's a manic glint in his eye.

"Wally!" He cries, desperate and loving despite the fact that they last saw each other just minutes ago.

"Yeah babe?" Wally answers casually, hoping to get some insight into the conversation topic.

"I know this is really weird and random timing, and I know this is probably not the day either of us want to do this, but I was thinking about tonight and everything that happened and I just had to do it now, so here goes-" Dick starts rambling, and Wally listens, confusion growing every second.

Then he blinks, and Dick in on one knee in front of him, a square box in his hand. Wally is pretty sure he just squealed like a teenage girl.

"Wally West," Dick starts, before chuckling and shaking his head. "I had a whole speech planned out. I memorised it completely and now I stare into your eyes and I forget every line. You're too perfect." He sighs with a contented smile on his face, and Wally's heart is actually melting.

"I love you. So, so much. And I'd trust you with my life, my anything, you name it. My heart is already yours. You accepted me so wholly, quirks and all, even when one of those quirks is murder and another is an obsession with Lucky Charms cereal. I can't imagine life without you. I want to stay by your side forever, just like you've always had my back. Where you're going, I'm going. So, Wally West, will you marry me?"

There's never been any question, Wally thinks as he whispers the word "Yes!" over and over into Dick's shoulder. The ring box sits unopened on the table, and while Wally will probably marvel at its beauty or price much later, the ring is forgotten for now. They stay locked up in their embrace for quite a long time, neither wanting move. They fall asleep on the sofa, a shitty movie playing in the background. 

Dick sleeps peacefully that night.

Chapter Text

Tim is different from his predecessors.

He's been carefully watching the varying Bats ever since he was old enough to understand what they were. He's been obsessed for most of that time. He even took up photography just to get a glimpse of them, and the moment he did he immediately became, in Jason's words, a "crazed chiropterologist".

Thinking about Jason hurts. The older boy had been almost like a brother to him, once the Waynes started inviting him over when his parents were away. Jason's death hurt him personally, as well as the way everyone in Gotham felt the death of Robin deeply. And here Tim is, replacing him, doing the job that he and Dick once did and only barely managing to keep up with them.

Perhaps it is because he's different. His reasons for being Robin are far from its intended purpose, one which most people refuse to acknowledge.

Ever since Tim worked out who Robin was, he's known that he was fuelled by rage.

Dick Grayson was a joyous, cheerful kid the first time Tim met him. Tim was barely out of toddler-hood, but he still remembers meeting the kid of the Flying Graysons, just hours before disaster. Since then, Dick has tried to keep up that façade, but it doesn't take a genius (or perhaps it does, given no-one else seems to notice) to realise that it's fake.

Robin was angry. Dick Grayson was out for revenge for his parents death, and back then it was the Batman reigning him in. That's what's changed. That's why Tim doesn’t fit.

Jason was similar. He was angry at the world this time, and wanted to fight the people who made it bad. Once again, Batman reigned in an angry kid, taught him to fight for justice and peace, not revenge.

Tim is the reverse.

He doesn't need the no-kill rule. He's there to enforce it on his elders. He's reigning in the temper and lust for revenge of Batman and Nightwing, and he just hopes he's doing a good job.

Tim doesn't quite know what he thinks of the rule. 

He grew up privileged, unlike Jason. He'd never had to consider doing harm in order to survive. He'd not yet lost someone so close to him so suddenly, like Dick. He'd never felt the need for revenge, coursing through his veins.

Ever since Jason's death, he's felt a semblance of those things. The anger at seeing the Joker, the man who ripped his pseudo-brother away from this world. And then the fear of fighting on Gotham's streets, the fight or flight response in which he considers whether both he and his attacker are going to walk away from this. If it could only be one of them, what would he do?

He doesn't want to kill, he decides. He doesn't think he could do it himself. But some people make him question if the world would be better off without them, and if he'd mind if someone took it upon themselves to get rid of them.

The Joker is one of those people. But the Joker feels too permanent. Batman would never turn around and change his mind after all these years. And besides, the Joker has been a constant factor in Tim's life as long as he can remember. He doesn't even know what he'd do if he were to-

Tim turns on the news, and moments later his precious coffee slips out of his hands and hits the floor with a resounding shatter.

********** (News cameras flashing)

Everyone in Gotham remembers where they were when the first heard. It would go on to be a city-wide holiday, but for the moment all anyone could do was gape in shock.

A crappy morning talk show was interrupted by a flashing red sign.

"BREAKING NEWS! Commissioner Gordon of the GCPD has just announced a press conference to announce, quote unquote 'something it is of the utmost importance that all of Gotham hears'." The news anchor announced. "We go live straight to outside GCPD headquarters with Vicki Vale, Vicki, how's it going out there?"

Every screen in Gotham switched to a view of the outside of the GCPD. Commissioner Gordon stood at a podium, preparing a speech as reporters crowded around, cameras flashing and microphones poised and ready.

"Thanks Mark," Vicki said, "I'm standing here waiting for Commissioner Gordon, he should be about to speak any minute-" She cut herself off as the entire crowd turned to the podium. 

The commissioner cleared his throat.

"Thank you for all coming on such short notice. Something very significant has happened, and I'm here to give the GCPD's official statement regarding it. If you could all remain silent until I'm finished, and no I will not be taking questions." He made a show of picking up his speech, placing it down in front of him once again.

"In the early hours of this morning, the man known only as the Joker was found dead in his cell at Arkham Asylum." He stated monotonously.

The entire crowd went perfectly still.

"An investigation will be launched into both the break in of the facility and murder of an inmate. For the moment, the GCPD would like to remind everyone that the killing of convicted criminals is still considered murder, no matter their crimes, and asks that anyone with any information regarding to the case come forward." He finally looked up from the notes. Nobody moved. Nobody quite dared to believe it.

Jim Gordon unpinned his badge from his chest and placed it carefully on the podium for all to see.

"I'd like to make a statement as a Gotham citizen, in no way affiliated with the GCPD, of my opinion on this matter." Everyone waited with baited breath.

"Good riddance to the bastard."

********** (The stars that Jim deserves for this)

Tim is still staring at the TV, words ringing in his ears as his coffee seeps into the carpet. For once, he doesn't need it to feel fully awake.

It is at that moment that Bruce and Alfred walk in.

Bruce looks at the headline running across the banner on the screen, and freezes.

Tim can only imagine the war going on in his head right now. Surely Bruce can't feel that the Joker's death is a negative, and yet his principles have been broken. Not by him, though maybe that's worse?

Bruce is the hardest to analyse out of the Bats. Tim could write books on the mystery of Bruce's emotions and lack thereof, and he's been around the man for the shortest time out of all of them. He doesn't think he will ever discover what goes on inside Bruce's head, but he thinks there's some relief in there right now, wrestling with his conscience and morals in a way only Bruce can manage to torment himself.

There's only one person missing here. As Tim dimly realises that he's putting off his own dealing with the news by analysing everyone else, Dick Grayson rushes into the room.

"Did you guys see the news?!" He yells, waving his phone around.

Dick is interesting. He presents himself as open, but he's just as emotionally closed off as the rest of his family. His expressions form a curious juxtaposition as he gives his feelings freely while locking others away tighter than the rest of them.

At this moment, Dick is grinning. There's glee in his smile, and he isn't quite hiding it. And yet, it's not fully open, there's a tightness to it that tells Tim that Dick is unsure of how his happiness will be received. One glance at Bruce confirms it - Dick will pretend he isn't happy about this if it means keeping peace with Bruce.

Tim can't quite imagine doing that. He keeps his emotions locked away like they all do, but he doesn't lie about them. Perhaps an overdone smile at a gala when he's not really that interested in hearing about whatever Mr So-and-so has to say, but something like this?

Dick and Bruce are having some silent conversation. Or perhaps they're just staring at each other, identical unreadable expressions on their faces despite the fact that Bruce is still frowning in shock and Dick's grin has yet to slip.

"Suit up." Bruce says in lieu of a greeting, since it’s the first spoken word since Dick rushed into the room. 

Dick rolls his eyes. "Really? There won't be a police officer in Gotham who'll care enough to even block off the crime scene. We'll get nothing." Oh. They have to investigate the Joker's murder. They'll have to visit the crime scene. The part of Tim's brain that's being ignored right now is wondering whether to jump for joy or throw up.

"I'm Batman." Bruce answers, like he always does. "You're Nightwing, Tim is Robin. It's our duty to investigate, no matter who the victim is." There's no negotiation, and Batman leaves the room.

Dick goes to follow him, but Alfred puts out a hand to stop him. Hand on his shoulder, there is something like gratitude in the old man's eyes as he says a few simple words to the man who has always been his grandson.

Dick's eyes go wide at whatever it is, but then he smiles, a real, genuine smile. He leaves the room and Alfred exits moments later, leaving Tim alone with his thoughts.

Not something he wants to deal with right now. He hurries after them to put on the mantle he needs to live up to, for the sake of Gotham.

********* (The fiery tension of this whole situation, no-one is dealing properly)

The news went wild, and so did Gotham.

Journalists could barely hide their glee as they published headlines reading things like "Joker, Dead at last!" and "The Clown Prince of Crime, gone for good!". Everyone quoted Jim Gordon's words, and #Goodriddancetothebastard started trending on every social media site in a matter of hours, to the confusion of the rest of the world.

Crime was put on hold for the day, and people rushed out into the streets to shout about it. Somehow, parades were set up and the whole city became one big party as they celebrated the death of one of the worst people in existence. It was the happiest Gotham had ever been.

The news stations covered it all, interviewing people on the streets to hear just how glad they felt about it.

"Mrs Thomas, how do you feel about the news that the Joker's dead?" Vicki Vale asked, shoving her microphone towards the woman.

"Oh, I'm honestly very glad. I know we shouldn't feel happy about people passing, but that man is the obvious exception. I was so worried, I have a son, he's eleven, and I always hated myself for making him grow up in this city, but now it feels so much safer. Of course there are other villains, but just the thought that he will never again have to deal with a Joker attack warms my heart!" Mrs Thomas replied. The grin on her face matched her words - not a Joker grin, but a joyful, grateful smile directed at whoever had killed the man.

********** (The happy smiles of Gothamites)

Dick was right.

When they arrive at Arkham, Commissioner Gordon greets them. Tim can only see a few other police officers moving around the asylum, and they seem to be putting in even less effort than the GCPD normally does - which is saying something.

"Batman," Gordon says, waving for the vigilantes to follow him. "I figured you'd come. He was killed in his cell." 

Nightwing's smile is still visible, dulled in an attempt at sincerity. But no-one here will judge him for it. Not after everything that's happened between the clown and the first Robin.

Tim doesn't know what he looks like right now. He feels confused, and shell-shocked. The idea of the Joker being dead doesn't yet feel real, and his body moves on auto-pilot as Gordon leads them to the cell.

"Security feed outside and inside the cell was looped, we think, but we couldn't find an external hack. No trace of them on any other camera." Gordon explains. He acts like the case is a clear cut dead end, and it sounds like that's what he wants it to be. No-one wants to have to arrest the person who killed the Joker.

The three vigilantes are led into the cell. Batman's face stays blank, unreadable. Nightwing's expression is closed off, but the slight smile remains. And Robin…

Tim stares at the body, and wants to throw up.

He doesn't know why. He's seen worse than this. The Joker has been slashed up a bit and shot, and yet it being the Joker makes this so much more. 

The Joker is dead. It can't be real. Can it?

The slashing on the clown's chest is a pattern, and he forces himself to look again and realises it’s a J. For a moment he thinks of Jason, wonders if the killer was someone who knew, but then he realises that it probably stands for 'Joker'. 

There is both a slash to the throat and a mess of bullet wounds to the head. It's hard to tell which killed him, but the killer must have wanted to be sure given the multiple rounds worth of bullets fired into the clown's head.

The whole scene paints a sick picture, but Tim feels something like relief rise in his gut.

While Tim has been staring, Batman has been discussing the case with Gordon. Both Gordon and Nightwing add in plenty of hints to drop it, that no-one will care enough to cooperate. No-one will appreciate the Batman bringing in the person that freed them from the rule of the Clown Prince of Crime.

Batman relents eventually. It comes the with the kind of grunt that means he's definitely going to keep looking into it later, but from the case files Tim was handed at some point it seems as though there's no evidence to go on. The cameras were looped such that they didn't even record any footage, so it can't be uncovered. No-one was seen at any point. Aside from scanning for magic and teleporters (things no-one would dare to bring to Gotham), there's no way of finding out who did this, not with so many people having motive, means and opportunity.

Anyone in Gotham would have and could have done this. And everyone in Gotham will celebrate, because the Joker is finally dead.

********** (The static of Tim's poor brain trying to comprehend this.)

Tim stays quiet as they head home. His mind is fuzzy, and his lungs aren't quite working. He fumbles out of his suit before rushing upstairs to grab coffee.

That will fix it. He dropped his first cup earlier when they announced-

No, still can't breathe. He enters his favourite living room and sinks into the sofa cushions.

This can't be real.

Here's the thing. Tim is 14 years old, as of 2 months ago.

The Joker was first sighted 15 years ago.

Tim doesn't remember how old he was when he first heard of the Joker. What he does remember is his first day of school at Gotham Academy. How 5 year old Tim Drake was shown a picture of a scary clown and told to run or hide if he ever saw him.

Every year since, he has been introduced to more and more complex versions of the same talk. Where to hide, where to run to. How best to help the younger kids, who he needed to call if there was a hostage situation he managed to escape. Every time, it was the clown.

Tim has seen so many people die at the Joker's hands that he's lost count. Ever since he became Robin he's been taught not to run, but to evade, to distract. How to keep the clown talking, how to keep him interested.

Just like every other kid his age in Gotham, the Joker is a constant. They even joke about it occasionally, when he hasn't attacked for a while. Telling the new kids they "haven't lived in Gotham if they ain't seen the clown."

The Joker was a constant. He's dead. But Tim can't quite believe it.

He'd long ago resigned himself to the reality of avoiding clowns for the rest of his life. More recently, he'd accepted that he would always be listening out for that menacing cackle, watching carefully for a glint of purple and green and being relieved that it's just Riddler. The Joker 'loves' the Robin, and its Tim's turn. The Joker had wanted him dead, and Tim was prepared to spend the rest of his life avoiding that fate.

But now?

The Joker is dead. He tells himself.

He's dead. He won't come back.

"He's gone now. He can't hurt you."

It takes him a moment to realise that it's Dick saying those words. He blinks and gently eases out of his spiral, feeling the sofa underneath him and Dick's arms wrapping around him in a hug.

He looks up at Dick, blinking through the tears. He feels like he's a toddler again, meeting the Dick Grayson at the circus, moments before disaster. 

"…Really?" He chokes out, because he has to know. Dick would never lie. Dick would never tell him false platitudes, try to make him feel better by omitting the truth. Dick knows Tim is too smart to fall for that.

Dick grins down at him.

"He's gone. I did promise you, didn’t I?" He says carefully. Tim freezes.

Dick doesn't like to make promises. In their line of work, they're very hard to keep, so Dick doesn't throw the word around. But there was one time.

Dick had been fuming about something the Joker had done. He'd kidnapped Tim and tortured him, hitting him with a crowbar just like-

Dick and Bruce had saved him. Bruce vanished, wallowing in guilt about Jason once again. And Dick? Dick was angry.

He had paced around the room for what felt like hours, Tim watching him sleepily. And then he'd stopped, and turned to Tim.

"You know one day, I'm gonna make sure that bastard never hurts my family again." A pause. "And that's a promise." He'd said.

If Dick means that this time, then there's only one thing he could mean. And if that's what he means, then everything about Dick's behaviour is explained.

And that's scary. His big brother has always seemed the gentle one, but Tim should have expected this, because he knows it's a lie. Dick's smile is just as much of a mask as his domino, and it's one he uses to hide his anger and sadness.

So that means that Dick is the one who killed the Joker. And finally, Tim can believe it. Dick isn't lying to him, his senses aren't lying, the world isn't lying. The clown is dead, and he's finally safe. And Tim feels nothing but gratitude towards his brother.

He's been thinking too long. Dick looks nervous, ready to run out of the room faster than his speedster boyfriend. Tim smiles gently, fresh tears pricking at his eyes.

"Thank you." He whispers, burying his face into Dick's shoulder. He hears a quiet sigh of relief. The two stay hugging for quite some time.

Bruce joins them at some point, sitting on the other sofa. He glances at them, and a brief smile flashes across his face.

"Did I tell you about my fiancé?" Dick asks out of the blue. Tim's head jerks up and even Bruce's closed expression gives way to surprise for a moment.

"Fiancé?!" Tim yells, and Dick laughs, and the tension that was settling in the room is broken. Alfred has entered with a tray of drinks and looks faintly amused.

"Yes! I proposed to Wally last night! And he said yes!" Dick cheers, and Tim giggles at his enthusiasm. He does give Dick an odd look at the timing, and Alfred matches it for a split second.

"Well I think this calls for a celebration, Master Dick. How about we all go out today, and have a congratulatory lunch?" Alfred asks, a twinkle in his eye. The two brothers glance over at Bruce, but Bruce is already stood up. He won't argue with anything Alfred says.

They wash up a little and change clothes, and are out of the door much quicker than usual based on Alfred's approving look. They get in one of the cars and head into the depths of Gotham.

The streets are full of people, cheering and yelling and throwing confetti and balloons. Somehow the entire of Gotham has managed to summon a parade and all the necessary materials from nowhere, because the celebrations are in full swing, and it's only been two hours since the news was announced.

Dick and Tim smile at the sight, and even Alfred quirks up his lips as he eyes the happy faces of Gothamites. Only Bruce refuses to smile.

They park the car, and due to the crowding in the streets they have to walk the rest of the way to the restaurant Alfred picked out. As they push through the partiers, Dick looks like he's barely restraining himself from joining in the chanting as someone sets fire to an old clown mask on a stick. The cheer is infectious, and both Dick and Tim have wide grins on their faces.

Tim looks at Bruce. He's keeping his expression carefully closed. Tim can only imagine the war going on inside Bruce's head. He gets why Dick gives him a look, conveying the unspoken rule that what Dick has done will go with them to their graves. After all, who did it doesn't matter. The Joker is dead.

And Tim sees a very faint smile on Bruce's lips, because the clown is dead.

********** (Wooooooooooo!)

The years pass. Gotham has other villains, but without this one, it starts to heal just a tiny bit faster. Harley Quinn is angry for a few weeks before Nightwing convinces her that she's better off without him, and she sees a therapist about her toxic relationship. The other villains argue for a few days, wondering if any of them did it, before they move on.

Joker Day is an official Gotham holiday. Every year, all crime ceases as the city celebrates the death of the worst man to ever set foot in Gotham. The rest of the world remains confused.

In the Wayne household, people skirt around the reason for the celebrations as they find other excuses to go and party. Bruce still won't celebrate a man's death (he still doesn’t know what to feel other than relief), but he smiles more and more every year he sees the festivities.

Meanwhile, Dick and Wally celebrate their anniversary with varying dinners and dates. There's a horrible moment when Dick thinks he's going to have to celebrate alone, but Wally bursts out of the Speed Force weeks later, just in time for it.

Every year, Wally will give him a look. Just once. Asking if he feels any regret.

Every year Dick will think. Of Tim and Bruce and Alfred and Babs. Then of Steph and Cass. When miracles happen, he thinks of Jason, and then of Damian. He thinks of every Gothamite he knows.

And there is no regret. Because the Joker is dead, and he can't hurt them ever again.