"Batman?" James Jr. called as the darkly clad hero tore off in the opposite direction of the cops coming towards them. "Batman?" A frown pulled at his brow. "Dad?" He lifted confused eyes to his. "Why's he running away?"

Police Commissioner James Gordon considered his son's question as police dogs barked and strained against the leashes held in the fists of men woefully ignorant about what happened in this warehouse. Shouts and lights flashed as officers caught sight of the man fleeing the scene of not one, but two horrific deaths.

The only thing he knew for certain was that the wounds that caped figure sustained over the course of that evening would never heal. They went too deep, carved too big a hole inside a heart and soul already bearing more than any one person should. Gordon stared off into the darkness, imagining the pain and regrets they'd both shoulder in the years to come while trying to answer his son's desperately phrased question with as much honesty as he could.

"He runs because we have to chase him."

I have to chase him, he corrected silently as officers and EMS personnel swarmed into what remained of the hulled out warehouse. To give Gotham what it needs, I have to hunt him. Treat him as if he's one of the vermin infecting this city with evil.

"But why?" In the shadows, his son's eyes were twin pools of fear and uncertainty. "Why do you have to chase him? He didn't do anything wrong. It was…"

"I know it was, son." He hated cutting his son off but he had no choice. Nobody could ever know what really happened here. About what Harvey Dent had been about to do. He swallowed back the lump that was equal parts bitterness and regret. "It's what I have to do. It's my job. I have to bring him to justice."

Because if I don't, a lot of bad people will get put back on the streets. He didn't tell James Jr. that, though. His son wouldn't understand that to keep the animals locked in their cages that a good man usurped the responsibility for a lot of bad deeds.

"Why, though, Dad?" James Jr. asked with the persistence of a child who refused to accept the reason that his father gave him for why something had to happen. "I don't understand why you have to chase Batman. He saved us. Why do you have to chase him?"

Gordon ran a hand through his hair, desperately craving a cigarette and a stiff shot of whiskey, and knowing he couldn't have either one. Not at that moment, anyway. He needed a clear head to answer his son's question. To answer all the questions that he'd be expected to answer.

Only, he didn't know how to answer his son any better than he could the people who'd want to know what happened here. Was there a way for him to make his son understand that while Batman performed the selfless act of a real hero, he still had to treat him like a criminal?

Like the Joker.

He shoved thoughts of that animal from his mind. There'd be time to think about the Joker once everything got said and done. For now, he focused on figuring out a way to make sense of the good guy becoming the bad guy so the bad guy could get lauded as the good guy.

How could he make James Jr. understand something that he, himself, could barely comprehend? All he could do, he realized as beams of light fell on them, was try. Trying was easier said than done. How do I explain that the reason for why the man who risked his life to save his is now the bad guy is because it's what an entire city needs? That rather than giving Gotham the hero it deserves that he chose to become what it needed him to become so that it'd have the hope it needs to survive the days ahead?

"Son..."

"What did Batman do that was so wrong?"

"He…"

"Didn't he save a lot of people tonight? Didn't he stop the Joker?"

Gordon wanted to assure his son Batman hadn't done anything wrong. That he did everything a good man would do when he saw an act of injustice being carried out. He ached to tell him that, in fact. However, he couldn't give his son the real answer. He couldn't tell him that while Batman did save a lot of people that evening, him especially, that it didn't change anything. It didn't stop what needed to happen from happening.

Nothing could.

No, he could never tell James Jr. — or anyone for that matter — how it wasn't Batman who failed Gotham.

It was Harvey Dent.

Our white knight.

The words left a foul taste in his mouth. Why shouldn't they? Harvey Dent proclaimed to all and sundry he'd clean up the streets of Gotham by not only locking away all the criminals, but seeing they stayed where they belonged. How could he tell his son, as well as the people of this city that the man who promised to rid their city of all its criminals had become one?

The man once lauded for his high moralistic integrity, principles, and incorruptibility became so twisted by his rage and grief that he allowed himself to become as sick and twisted as the very freak who took everything from him. Telling him that the death of Rachel was my fault, begging him to punish me instead of my family didn't sway him.

Nothing would stop him from seeing those he felt responsible for everything taken away from him punished.

Everything Harvey stood for, everything he spent the last few months fighting for, that Rachel Dawes ended up dying for, would become undone if the city ever learned about the real Dent. The one who opted to become a monster bent on obtaining vengeance instead of the man who fought to get justice for himself and the woman he loved in the courts he once dominated.

In the end, the Joker did what he promised he would: he beat them. It wasn't a fact Gordon could hide, much as he'd have liked too. The print media published photos of the warehouse where Rachel Dawes died. The news stations all reported the grievous injuries Dent sustained. Even without the rest of the story being told, the city knew the Joker won.

He took Dent from them.

Locking the Joker away in the deepest, darkest cell he could find to put him wouldn't be near enough punishment for all the suffering he caused. All the misery. Even death is too kind for that son of a bitch. Nothing would ever make up for how the Joker took the man who was supposedly the best of them and turned him into the very worst of them.

Not that Gotham would ever hear about that part of the tale. They'd never be told about what really happened in this warehouse. How Harvey Dent placed the worth of a child's life — my son's life, he thought savagely — on the outcome of a coin toss.

A coin that landed heads up after Batman chose to act.

If he hadn't acted when he did… Gordon didn't bother with finishing that thought. His son was alive and that was all that mattered. No, he realized as his wife pulled James Jr. into her arms and held him tight, nobody would ever know about what good Batman did tonight. They'd never know about the number of people he saved or the crisis he helped avert.

Gordon knew that once the dust settled that the people at City Hall would begin looking for someone they could blame this all on. Someone they could point to as the cause for what happened. Someone they could hold up as their example of what was wrong with Gotham.

Someone they could condemn.

He knew that, Gordon thought as shouts sounded in the distance. He knew he'd be the one they'll choose to blame. What was truth and what was right took a backseat to necessity. He had to sweep what happened under the rug. Lie. Tell people it was Batman who killed Dent and all the others. Why? Because the truth wasn't always good enough.

They gazed down at Dent's body, pale and still in the faint bit of light coming from the moon.

"We bet it all on him. Everything we did, undone. Whatever chance there was of us fixing Gotham dies with him."

"No. The Joker cannot win." Batman crouched beside Dent's body and gently turned his head so the unmarred side of his face was visible. "Gotham needs a true hero."

"I don't understand." Gordon stared at the caped figure. "You can't mean…"

"I do."

"You can't."

"I can." Batman rose and faced him. "I can because I'm not a hero. Not like Dent. I killed those people."

"No!" Fury pulsed beneath his skin. "You can't! You're not taking the blame for what he did!.

"This is what Gotham needs me to become."

"They'll hunt you."

"You'll hunt me," he corrected. "You'll condemn me. That's what needs to happen."

"Why're you doing this?"

"Because sometimes the truth isn't good enough," he said as shouts sounded in the distance. "Sometimes, people deserve more".

His only solace was that there'd come a day when the truth would be revealed. I will see to it that people know what really happened. I will make sure that people know who the real hero was tonight.

How was he to explain that to his son, though? He prided himself on teaching his children the difference between right and wrong. Yet, there he was, about to tell the hugest lie ever. Guilt hounded him as he crouched down in front of his son, settled not quite steady hands on his thin shoulders, and stared into his accusatory eyes.

"Son, while Batman is the hero that Gotham deserves, he's not the one that the city needs. Not right now."

"But…" He frowned. "He's the one who saved me."

"He knows that he is."

"Then why're you treating him like he's the bad guy?"

The accusation cut him, deeply. It was an honest question. How could he treat a good man as a bad one? Because I don't have any other choice.

"I have to treat him like the bad guy despite the good he's done."

"Why?"

Gordon sighed and finally gave his son the only answer remaining.

"This is the only way we can give the city what it needs the most: hope."

"Because of what the Joker did?" He glanced back at Dent. "Because of what he was gonna do to me?"

"Yes." He squeezed his shoulders gently. "So, we'll hunt Batman, call him things which you and I will know aren't true. Because while Batman is not the hero that Gotham needs, he is our silent guardian, our watchful protector... our Dark Knight."

James Jr. slowly nodded, seemingly satisfied with his answer despite how flimsy it was.

"Do you think he'll be back one day?" His face brightened with the very hope that Batman hoped to inspire with his choice to become the villain. "Do you think he will help you again?"

"Yes, son," Gordon said honestly. "I do think he will come back."

"When?"

A smile curved his lips.

"When the time is right and Gotham needs him to rise again." Gordon slowly rose to his feet. "He will. He'll be there to protect the city and its people."

"You're sure?"

"Yes." He patted his shoulder. "Good hero's watch and wait for when they're needed."

Even as he spoke those words, though, Gordon found himself wondering if they were true. Was he right? Would they see Batman again? Like all of Gotham, he often found himself wondering about the man whose face he had never seen. Will we ever see you again? he wondered, eyes searching for a glimpse of that figure cloaked all in black.

Gotham's true hero.

Her Dark Knight.

A/N: Hello, all, and welcome!

This story is set right at the end of The Dark Knight but is meant to explore that deplorable time gap that Nolan created for between TDK and The Dark Knight Rises. Everything after this chapter is just an imagination of events that could have occurred.

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