Earlier this year, a man died, but not before he gave one of the best performances of his career. This is my humble tribute to a great man taken from the world too soon.

The Final Joke

It was the giggling that woke him.

Insane, echoing laughter that was gradually increasing in volume and reverberating through his eardrums.

Whoever that is, I wish he'd knock it off, the man thought irritably.

He opened his eyes, squinting at the harsh glare that filled his vision. Blinking several times, he managed to clear his eyes, allowing himself an inspection of his surroundings. He was in a white room that stretched on as far as he could see, with no visible walls other than the ceiling and floor. Rising to his feet, he looked around and spotted the other man.

The other man had his back to him, shoulders shaking in barely concealed laughter.

"Hey, you," the man called out, striding over to the cackling figure. "Where the hell am I?"

The other man whirled suddenly, revealing a painted face with gruesome red scars on the sides of his mouth. "Well, what do we have here? A dead man walking."

The man stepped back, shocked. "What is this?" he demanded. "What is this? You're supposed to be me, is that it? Is this some kind of a joke?"

The other man broke out into gales of laughter, shaking uncontrollably. He straightened up, grinning with a mouth full of yellow teeth. "Oh, it's a joke, all right. It's your final joke. And I'm… the punch line."

The man regarded him critically. "You know, for an imitator, you're not bad," he observed. "You even sound like me."

"Listen," the other man sighed, grasping him by the shoulder. "I don't do the whole, uh, imitation thing. When I do anything, I do it for real, got it? This is all me."

"So you're real?" the man murmured. "A real Joker? How?"

Joker shrugged. "Maybe I'm supposed to be your… guide to the next life. I'm not really sure; I gave up on religion a long way back."

"The next life?" the man repeated numbly. "…I'm dead?"

Joker looked at him scornfully, "Do you really think a place as…as completely crazy as this," he gestured to the whiteness surrounding them, "could exist on our little world? No, you're in the afterlife, and there's no going back."

"But…how?" the man said half to himself. "I just went to sleep. How did I die?"

"You popped one pill too many," Joker said breezily, licking the inside of his scars. "A little doxylamine here, some hydrocodone there, and you're sleeping with the fishes."

"The antidepressants," the man murmured, pressing a hand to his forehead at the memory. "I must have overdosed…"

"Oh, don't feel bad," Joker said consolingly. "You've still got me."

The man gave a small snort, staring off into the distance morosely.

Joker leaned into the man's field of vision. "You have no idea, no idea how lucky you are. You died, as every man dreams of dying. You're a success story, a star."

"I died in my sleep," the man said bitterly. "I didn't want to go like that. I had so much more planned for my life. Now I'll never see it happen."

"You're such a whiner. Look at what you've done!" The Joker's voice rose to a frantic pitch. "You stole the show in what's now the biggest movie of the decade! Your life ended on the highest note it could!"

"The Dark Knight a hit…because of me?" the man asked slowly.

Joker nodded. "The movie was already good, but you made it art. You brought me to life, see. And I'm apparently the best Joker of all time."

"Best Joker of all time?" the man repeated numbly. "I was that good?"

"Oh no, you were better," Joker said. "There are demands out there for you to receive an Oscar. And if you don't, ohh, it'll really get ugly."

The man lapsed into silence, stunned.

Joker chuckled. "I envy you, you know. I could only imagine getting this sort of attention in Gotham. I tried to show that city a new breed of criminal, while getting a few laughs along the way. Instead, everyone saw me as the 'random, violent psychopath'. Harvey was the only one who really saw who I was. Shame he's dead, I liked old Two-Face."

The man smiled. "I had a feeling you did. You and Two-Face have a lot in common."

"Oh yeah," Joker replied, licking his lips. "We both have scars. And some run more than skin deep…"

Silence fell. Only the slurping noise of Joker running his tongue through his scars could be heard.

After awhile, Joker spoke up. "So…you, uh, heading off?"

"To where?" the man asked, puzzled.

"Heaven, hell, the great beyond!" Joker exclaimed, throwing his arms into the air. "You can't stay here. I'm supposed to be guiding you along, remember?"

"You're not coming with me?" the man blurted out without thinking.

Joker threw his head back and laughed. "I can't come with you! I've been immortalized, thanks to you. As long as The Dark Knight is remembered, I'll be, too. Batman and I, we'll do our little act together forever!" he proclaimed.

"Alright then," the main said firmly. "I guess I'm ready for whatever's waiting for me."

"Yes, that's the spirit!" Joker coached. "Here comes your, uh, ride now."

A white light suddenly gleamed before the man, growing bigger and brighter with every second. The man calmly stepped forward, allowing the light to envelop his body.

"Goodbye!" Joker called. "Remember: life and death are nothing more than one big joke!"

"I'll remember the joke," the man promised, closing his eyes, "as long as you remember the punch line."

"That's good," Joker said, laughing. "That's good, I like that!"

The man smiled, the light swallowing him up completely.

As Heath Ledger moved into the great unknown, he reflected that for once, the Joker's laughter didn't sound quite as mocking.

The End

In Memory Of

Heath Ledger

April 4, 1979 – January 22, 2008

Rest in Peace

I know this fic isn't anything near what Heath deserves. I'm just showing my respect for the dead in my own special way.

Long live the Heath Ledger Joker.

Long live The Dark Knight.