Story that follows John Blake after the events of The Dark Knight Rises. Includes events from famous Batman comics Under the Red Hood and The Killing Joke.

The problem with light is that it casts shadows. In those shadows live things people should be afraid of. John Blake was never afraid. That was his first mistake.

No graphics content but I can share a portion of what I had written.

Prologue

On a warm night in the small town of Noli, Bruce Wayne woke from a dreamless slumber.

For years he had spent his nights occupied, whether it was in front of multiple computer screens or patrolling the streets of the city he had called home for so long. It took him months to adjust to a "normal" way of life. Sometimes even sleeping pills were not enough and Bruce would find himself shut away in the living room watching GNN for any signs of distress, but things had been quiet since the Batman sacrificed himself. Soon his fear subsided and sleep became his friend again. Still, old habits are hard to fully break free from which was how he found himself wide-awake that night with far too many thoughts occupying his mind.

A body stirred next to him. Bruce looked to the sleeping form of Selina Kyle flush against his own with her arm curled on his bare chest. She often fell asleep that way, tracing the scars that littered it. Even now he had to admit, the idea that they were still together, now two, nearly three years since they left Gotham, was a bit surprising. They had been two fugitives, running away from the lives they had led, longing to start anew; they stuck together because they were all each other had. There was a mutual attraction, curiosity, even respect, but it was not love. Neither had expected it to last, and went in fully realizing that, but days turned into weeks, then months. Suddenly they were house hunting and having arguments over paint colors. The Bat and the Cat had decided to see it through, for better or worse. Bruce had even considered sealing the deal, although being a former jewel thief made the intended one of the picky variety and just the thought of it made his stomach twist into knots.

He had to chuckle at that. Bruce Wayne, the Dark Knight of Gotham, was nervous about a little metal hoop with a diamond on top.

"Mmm, what's got you all excited?"

Bruce turned to face the very woman he was thinking about. She looked worn from sleep, but her dark eyes still had that curious twinkle to them.

"It's nothing," he whispered.

Her lips curved into a sly grin. "Darlin', with you it's never nothing."

"No, I guess not." He leaned back, staring at the ceiling. "I was just thinking about all this, how strange it is."

"The criminal and the hero playing house?" Selina started to laugh. "How have we not gone insane?"

"Hey, now, that's ex-criminal," Bruce replied. "And the dead hero."

There was a moment of silence before Selina leaned over and placed a kiss on his lips. "Keep the volume down this time. Us 'normal' people like to sleep."

She always was one step ahead of him.

Their home was modest, especially next to Wayne Manor, but it was far from what Selina's apartment had been. It had two floors, was a couple miles from any neighbors, and even sat on the beach.

Truthfully, Bruce had never been completely broke. Back when he still had Rachel's promise to look forward to, he had moved some money around, a little nest egg for when the Batman was no longer needed. He knew then that if he were to retire, he could never stay in Gotham. It would only drag him back in. After her death, he never touched the money. It was tainted somehow, haunting. So it sat for nearly ten years. The interest alone had bought the house.

Bruce made his way to the kitchen downstairs, tiptoeing his way around sleeping cats. He'd lost count of how many they had. The creatures seemed to wander in and out as they pleased. He tried to put a limit to the number they kept, but saying no to Selina was signing your own death warrant.

The sun would rise soon over the Mediterranean. Bruce leaned against the counter, taking in the sight of the red hues slowly emerging over the horizon. There was a stark contrast between Noli and Gotham. Things were slow here, peaceful, some days he even dared to say perfect. He always took that with a grain of salt. Nothing good ever happened to him without it being stripped away. His parents, Rachel, even Miranda. Now he had Selina and a home in Italy. Maybe that was why he still woke up at night.

The smell of the salty breeze broke his thoughts.

Bruce stepped to the back door. It was cracked open ever so slightly.

"You cracked the best security system money could buy, but didn't think to close the door completely. I don't know if I should be impressed or if I should pity you."

"I'm not trying to hide."

He turned to the living room, just through the kitchen doorway. They were sitting in the back corner, shrouded in darkness, but Bruce could still make out key features.

"Blake?"

"I figured you never actually broke contact with Alfred. I mean, c'mon, the man practically raised you. Wasn't hard to find the place after that. You would like isolation."

Bruce watched him look around the room, but the movements were slow, forced. Blake was hurt, that much was obvious, but the darkness kept him from seeing the full extent of his injuries.

"Why are you here?"

"Remember when you told me why you wear the mask? That it was to protect those you care about." Blake paused. "What am I supposed to do when they get hurt anyway?"

Knowing he wouldn't get any answers out of him, Bruce flipped a switch. The whole room was bathed in light, Blake along with it.

He saw the bruises first. It was hard not to. The purple shades on his left eye alone were cause for distress, but the rest of his skin was also riddled with smaller marks. There was a ring of yellow and green around his neck and a gash on his eyebrow. His knuckles were split.

But it was his demeanor that worried Bruce the most.

Rigid, tense, angry. This was not the upset boy who had lost his parents. It was an enraged man who had finally let someone close again, only to lose them too. They were far too similar, he and Blake, in all the wrong ways.

"What happened, Blake?"

They locked eyes for the first time and what Bruce saw chilled him to the bone. There was nothing in them, not the anger his body gave off, nor sadness or fear. They were black and still, emotionless.

"You need to come back, Bruce. The Batman needs to come back."

Bruce sighed. "He's dead."

"He can't be."

"He has to be."

Blake shook his head. "Not this time. If you don't come back, I'll kill him. Don't make me cross that line."

The conversation had taken an abrupt turn. Bruce found himself inching closer to Blake, until he was sitting in the chair across from him. He was afraid to ask, mostly because he knew the answer, but still he had to.

"Kill who?"

"The Joker."