Bruce’s sleep that night was rather sound for the first time since Hailey’s passing. He didn’t dream of his parents’ death or of Jason’s loss, Barbara’s injury, those he couldn’t save, or even of the silent, mournful vigil by Hailey’s grave.

Instead, he found himself standing at the grand, crumbling gate of the old Gotham Zoo, a place long abandoned but still humming with an unseen, chaotic energy. The moonlight cast long, distorted shadows of iron bars on the pavement, a silent, surreal prison.

A flash of red and black, and a jaunty, almost maniacal tune, broke the silence. Out of the darkness, a figure came dancing and skipping toward him. She was in full regalia: the black and red harlequin suit, the pale white face, the wide, manic grin. It was Harley Quinn, and she was in her element.

“Well, well, well, if it ain’t ol’ Bats, comin’ to see the animals! Or did ya come to see lil’ ol’ me?” she sang, her voice a shrill, teasing melody. She twirled and skipped in a circle around him, her gaze never leaving his. “Oh, I know you, Bats. You’re the one who thought he could be happy. Marry the girl, get a kid, then another! What a laugh! But the joke’s on you, ain’t it? She’s gone, gone, gone! Just like your parents! Just like Jason!” She laughed, a cackle that echoed off the cold stone of the zoo gate. “You can’t have a family, Batsy. The family you gets the one you make, and your family’s just us! Your lil’ clown family!”

The teetering, mad dance of Harley Quinn began to fade. The wild cackle became a soft, loving whisper, and the painted face of the clown queen of crime dissolved. The last of her maniacal energy seemed to drain away, leaving only the woman Bruce had married, the woman he had loved.

Hailey, dressed in a flowing white gown, stood before him in the moonlight, her gentle smile full of a sadness that mirrored his own.

“It’s okay to be sad, Bruce,” she said, her voice a balm to his shattered heart. “It’s okay to mourn me. But don’t let me be the end of you.” She reached out, but her hand passed through him like a ghost. “Don’t let go of the family we made together. Don’t let go of Richard. Don’t let go of our little Hailey. They need you. They need their father.”

A single tear rolled down Bruce’s cheek. “I can’t,” he protested, his voice a raw, broken whisper. “I tried to be happy… and I’m lost without you. I am not that man anymore. I am nothing without you.”

Hailey’s smile was unwavering. “You are still the man I fell in love with,” she said, her voice filled with a powerful, desperate love. “Be that man again. Be that hero for them. For our children. For Gotham. For me.” Her form began to flicker, fading like a memory, but her eyes held him fast, their love a final, searing command.

“Be the hero,” she said as she smiled softly, her voice barely a whisper. “I’ll always be with you…, Bats….” And then she was gone.

Bruce’s eyes snapped open. The last vestiges of the dream—the crumbling zoo gate, the fading whispers of the woman he loved—dissolved, leaving him with a sharp, undeniable sense of purpose.

He was no longer lying in bed, but standing in the heart of the Batcave’s vault, the hard concrete floor beneath his boots.

He was staring at a full-length mirror, his reflection a stark, powerful image in the dim light. He stood, fully dressed as the Dark Knight, the scarred armor a part of him once more.

He didn’t remember coming down to the cave. He didn’t remember putting it on. He was in bed, dreaming. It was as if his subconscious, guided by the pleas of a dead woman and a living child, had simply brought him to this moment.

The cowl still fit his face perfectly, and the cape, a silent shadow at his back, felt like a promise.

He saw no grief in his eyes now, no crushing despair.

Only a cold, hardened resolve.

The man who had been a ghost in his own home was gone.

In his place was the hero. He wasn’t doing this for vengeance.

He was doing it for them.

For little Hailey, for Richard, for Gotham, for Hailey.

He was back.

© Copyright 2026 J.R. Geiger. All rights reserved.