We go from what was my most suspenseful story to what is clearly the saddest of my Batman collection. This small one shot was written for a challenge called 'Darkness', I wanted to tackle the issue of death in the Batman universe. This usually brings everyone back to the same dark alley we've always known, but it was always told from Bruce's perspective. I thought it would be interesting if I wrote this familiar story from someone else's point of view.
He knew the end was near. Soon it would be dark.
When the bullet ripped into his chest, he could tell right from the beginning that it was fatal. The man was a doctor, he could tell what was hit and how much time he had before he would bleed out. He could feel the blood trickle down as it was warm against his skin. He took a quick peek and it was all he could see. The white of his tuxedo shirt was replaced with nothing but crimson red and it broke his heart.
He was going to die.
The end was near for him.
All of a sudden he could feel someone touch his hand. He could barely feel his hands but someone had taken his hand and squeezed it as tight as they could. He looked up and into the bright blue eyes of his only son. He was still there, he was unharmed. Even though he was about to die, Thomas couldn't have been more thankful. The thief that had shot him had spared his son. Bruce was going to live.
A tear fell down Thomas' cheek as he looked up into his own eyes and despite not being able to feel his legs, he felt a horrible rush of guilt. Bruce was going to have to move on by himself. It wasn't supposed to be like this. No child should have to bear this alone. It wasn't the way Thomas wanted to go. He didn't want this to be Bruce's last memory of his father; lying there in the middle of an ally, bleeding all over the pavement.
It wasn't fair. There would be no baseball games, no groundings for breaking curfew. He wasn't going to be able to witness his son marry the woman of his dreams, or get to spoil his grandchildren rotten. Bruce had so much to share, but no time to share it with the people he loved most. Thomas reached up with his other hand, and softly caressed the boy's cheek, clearing away one of many tears.
Thomas felt tired, but he really knew what was going on. He tried to keep his eyes open. He was hoping someone would arrive soon, anyone. He prayed that someone would arrive to comfort the poor boy. Don't let him be alone to mourn. Thomas wished to hang on just a little longer, long enough for someone to arrive. It was not meant to be. The darkness slowly crept up on him, like a stalker would pounce on its unsuspecting prey.
"I'm sorry." Thomas softly whispered.
He tried to say it again but the words wouldn't leave his mouth. Just before the darkness came to him, Thomas could hear voices, people calling out to Bruce. His prayers had been answered. The young boy would have someone there to help him, to comfort him in his time of need. He would not be alone and Thomas managed to crack a small smile for his son as the life finally slipped away from him forever...