Disclaimer- For the last time for this fanfic, I do not own YJ . . .

This is the sad version . . . I hope you all brought tissues . . . lots and lots of tissues! Well, tissues may not be necessary seeing as I have a migraine behind my left eye as I writing this. Anyway, hope it's a good read and that you review. (If they're negative reviews, I don't want them. :p)

Note- I don't know Tim Drake's story nor do I care to. I just made some stuff up. Oh and Bruce isn't like himself in this.

Note 2- There is a bit of happiness at the ending . . . I couldn't help it.

Epilogue 3: Sad

On the very edge of the violent city that was called Gotham, there was a large mansion that had been the home of the famous playboy Bruce Wayne. But he had died just mere ten years after his first ward, Dick Grayson, had perished in a tragic accident. During those ten years, Bruce Wayne had changed and morphed into a very sad man who had once again taken an orphan that reminded him of his dead ward. Not that Bruce had ever admitted or given any hint of the city's suspicions.

But after Bruce trained Tim Drake as the new Robin, due to Dick's begging to continue the Batman legacy, Bruce had started to die due to that fact that he would never be able to go on with life without his little bird. Alfred and Bruce's doctors tried to get him to hang on to life but it was all for naught. He wouldn't listen nor did he want to. He just wanted to hold his little boy again in his arms like he had before his life had unraveled and spiraled downward into an abyss. Tim didn't even try for he knew that Bruce had never seen Tim for himself; he had always seen Dick in him as all other heroes had.

Of course, Tim didn't blame him. With the same black hair, he looked like a slightly taller Dick when he was in the Robin suit. But even though Tim understood, the fact that Bruce would never love him for HIM carved up his heart with anguish. What would it take for Bruce to see Tim for who he was? With no answer to that pitiful question, Tim trained to be even better than the Robin before him. He trained till he had nothing left to learn from the one who had taken him in and that had given him a sense of pride. Dick had never completed Bruce's training or so Alfred and the others had led him to believe. After all, if they had told him the truth, it would have taken the little hope he had that Bruce would actually see Tim.

But when Bruce passed on into the afterlife to be with Dick and his parents, Alfred had asked himself time and time again if he hadn't lied to Tim which led to Tim completing Bruce's training sooner than expected, would Bruce still be alive? But Alfred knew that it was useless to blame himself; after all, Bruce would have quit living anyway. Could anyone blame him? His ward, his SON, had been taken from him by the heartless hands of death and he hadn't been able to do anything to save him! He was the frickin' BATMAN yet he couldn't save his own son! What kind of hero couldn't save the one who mattered the most to him? What kind of hero was he?

Those kind of thoughts had led Bruce into an abyss of regret and depression where he had grieved as he trained Tim to be his heir. Alfred had known this but had thought that maybe Bruce would snap out of it for Tim. But it had the opposite effect; it just drove him deeper into his pain and made him shut everyone out. By then, Alfred didn't know how to help Bruce . . . whether to get him a therapist or to drive him to a cliff where he could jump off of. He didn't know what would help Bruce more, mental help or death. So, with a confused heart, Alfred pretended not to see the mess that started to gather as Tim proceeded deeper and deeper into his training to become the new Batman.

That was what Alfred regretted the most as he sat in Bruce's once favorite chair in the dusty living room with his wrinkled hands in his lap. He should have forced Bruce to get better . . . He should have forced Bruce to continue to be the person that Dick had known . . . He shouldn't have just watched as Bruce grew thinner and thinner and deeper into the abyss that had been his mind then. He should have done so many things twenty years ago but the time for action had passed, leaving him nothing more than two graves to visit every year. But it wasn't like he was alone . . . He had Tim but did he really? He had barely bonded with the boy as he had with Dick. Honestly, Alfred couldn't tell you what color Tim's eyes were. Besides, Tim had moved out of Wayne Manor twenty years ago when Bruce died. Alfred had assumed it was because it had been too much for the young man to lose the person he had tried so hard for. But Tim hadn't abandoned his duties and had become the new Batman. Of course, he had built his own house on the opposite side of Gotham and a new Bat Cave so he never saw Alfred.

Alfred, in other words, was all alone in Wayne Manor. He hadn't minded at first and had kept cleaning the place like Bruce had told him to do every day. But as the years rolled by, Alfred's mind began to play tricks on his old eyes and ears. A few times he had gone to Bruce's room to find him sleeping in it like he had all those years ago. But when Alfred blinked, Bruce's form was gone and Alfred's heart broke once more. Yet he hadn't acknowledged it and continued to live in Wayne Manor. Then a few days later, Alfred could have sworn that he had seen Dick sitting on the rotten kitchen table. Alfred had moved to scold him only to find that his mind had yet again played a horrible trick on him. This experience broke poor Alfred's heart again so he had blocked off the rest of the house and only lived in the living room. After all, Bruce and Dick hadn't spent any time in there.

So, with what little peace he had scrapped up, Alfred had aged in the living room as he waited year after year for death to take him. Yes, Alfred had given up. His memories had only given him more pain and he no longer wanted to live. He wanted his old life . . . He wanted his family back.

Maybe this is how Master Bruce felt . . .

A sad smile flitted across Alfred's face as he closed his old eyes. If this was how Bruce had felt . . . No wonder he had given up so easily. This pain was something that no human could live with . . .

So . . . is it okay . . . if I go to sleep now?

Alfred listened for any answer in the darkness that surrounded him, straining his ears for any negative reply. Alfred received none which made him smile softly.

"Good night, Master Bruce . . . I'll see you soon."

And so, Alfred fell into a sleep from which he never woke up from. He was buried a week later right next to Bruce Wayne's grave where he had wished to be buried. Seeing as Tim wanted nothing do with Wayne Manor, it was boarded up and has long since been abandoned which is where we are now . . .

_No POV_

If you dared to take a step into the abandoned manor, you would see nothing but rotten furniture and cobwebs hanging from the ceiling. But if you continued down the main hall and into the living room where Alfred had died, you would see something that people had rumored to have seen.

The Wayne and Grayson families huddled around each other with Alfred as they laughed happily without a care in the world, finally reunited with the ones they had loved and lost like most families do . . . .

~The End~

A/N- I hope you all enjoyed and review . . . This was published (sadly) on 8-13-12 with the length of 1,480 words.