A/N: Bonjour! I'd like to use this space to thank you for checking out my story... er, drabblish-thing. It's my first The Dark Knight fanfic, and I'm admittedly nervous. It's short and not-so-sweet, and I have absolutely no clue on what to rate it or what genre to pick. It's a bit stylized, which I don't do often, so I'd love to hear what you think about it. I actually don't have much else to say (that's rare), so... enjoy!

That Day

Sometimes, late at night, when swirls of thoughts and worries and memories and emotions keep him from sleeping, Bruce thinks of the Joker's death. He thinks of its inevitability. The Joker must die, and Batman must kill him, because the Joker won't succumb to anyone else.

He thinks of That Day.

He thinks of what it will be like when the Joker is gone.

He thinks of what it will be like when he breaks his one rule.

He thinks of what that will feel like.

Will he feel victorious, proud, relieved because the Joker is gone? Or will he feel horrified and lost, because he's broken his one rule?

It's hard for him to picture the Joker dead. The Joker is powerful, unstoppable, a hurricane, a never-ending existence. The Joker isn't human.

So how can he die?

Yet Bruce can't help but imagine the Joker's death. He visualizes the Day when the Joker will finally push Batman to his limits, over his limits, and break him.

He knows That Day will come. He knows that's what the Joker wants.

But there's nothing he can do about it, and they both know it.

So he imagines That Day.

On That Day, he sees the Joker mocking Batman with his inhuman eyes, bright with laughter and madness. He sees the Joker's snakelike tongue dart out to probe his scars, constantly reminding them of his grotesque disfigurement.

Wanna know how I got these scars?

On That Day, he sees the Joker bleeding on the ground, with Batman towering over him. Batman will give the Joker no mercy, because the Joker showed no mercy. Not to Rachel, not to Harvey, and not to the thousands and thousands of countless, nameless others.

On That Day, he sees the Joker's dark eyes, once so intense and full of life, begin to dim. He sees the Joker's tongue slow and then stop, unable to finish its last round of scar-tracing. He sees the Joker's ghastly smile freeze forever on his mutilated face.

And on That Day, he hears the Joker's mad laughter, endless, goading, manipulating. AHhaha, haha, hehHEH! until the very end.

Even then, it will echo in his mind. AHhaha, haha, hehHEH!

He knows that the Joker will die laughing on That Day.

And he knows that on That Day, in the should-be silence still ricocheting with laughter and blood, Batman will stand there and feel nothing. No victory or pride or relief, and definitely no joy. Just emptiness, and a memory that will haunt him for the rest of his life.

AHhaha, haha, hehHEH! AHhaha, haha, hehHEH!

It is only late at night when Bruce thinks of these things. The thoughts come and he can't stop them, as much as he wants to. During his waking hours, he flings himself into his Batman persona (or is it his Bruce persona?) and he doesn't think about That Day. But late at night the thoughts and worries and fears and emotions creep up on him, and he thinks of the Joker's death.