[ that hurts to hear, somehow. he draws in a sharp breath and has to turn away, furious at himself for reacting, furious for caring. tim had said darkseid killed him, or they'd thought he was dead. there've been other near misses. disappearances.

no more batman. he doesn't know why it makes him shake, why it turns his voice unsteady. it's all he'd thought about for the years he'd spent planning his revenge. ]

He told me that my death wasn't enough to make him stop being Batman. I talked to him and I thought, maybe he was right, what would I do if I had the Joker in my head and he was taking over and I couldn't trust anyone to-- to save me-- [ and his voice cracks ]

...would I pull the trigger myself? I'd try. I understand that.

But then he said it wasn't because of that. It was because he'd lost control and he'd killed. He'd gotten people killed.

He thought he got me killed and that didn't fucking matter enough to even pause, but jesus fucking christ, it happens to anybody else and he's-- lining the mansion with explosives, he's all fucking set to pull the trigger, and Alfred...

[ he stops, chest heaving, dragging his hands through his hair. ]