They are not mine,I am sorry to say. I make no money.

This is a crossing of Batman Begins and Smallville.

I have tweeked the time line to my needs, don't be surprised if something seems different.

This update has new pieces so you may need to skim thru again if you have already read the first part.

Feedback makes me SO happy. I like to know the good and the bad. Thanks for reading my stuff.

I have since finished this epic and I am in the process of tweeking and fine tuning. I will be editing the chapters so keep a look out.


Death.

It is unavoidable.

That was the first real lesson Ashley Embers ever learned. At five years old she felt the crushing permanence of it. That horrible night she was woken by her mother's anguished shriek.

Ashley, slipping from her warm bed to dash down the long corridor and into her father's den. Mama crumpled on the floor wailing, Daddy standing with the phone limply in his hand. Ashley had never seen her father's eyes so dark and sorrowful.

A wave a white-hot fear washed over her small body. Death. Her young mind tried to comprehend the words her father spoke. His handsome face pale and lined.

Aunt Martha and Uncle Thomas, dead. Shot by a petty mugger in the street. Her small heart twisted. What about Bruce? She had asked her Father.

Bruce, her beloved cousin, more like a brother, was now an orphan. The reality was too much for her to believe. She would never again see her beautiful aunt, smiling, arms wide to hug her. The gentle press of silk and the scent of verbena.

She would never ride high on her uncle's shoulders as they wandered laughing through the vast, Wayne stables. No, this cannot be!

Fat, hot tears fell in rivers down her small rounded cheeks. Mama had to be sedated by the doctor, leaving Daddy to try and comfort his young daughter best he could. Hiding his own grief.

xxxxxxxxxx

Then there was the ghastly morning after, walking into the massive house, now so empty and silent. Kindly Alfred, his voice low, eyes dark with sorrow, whispering to her father that he was concerned about Bruce.

Bruce.

Her heart squeezed. Standing at the window in his room stiff and silent. Alfred saying he feared the boy had yet to accept the truth, that he had not cried. Her father crossing to the 12 year old and putting a hand to his shoulder, whispering something. Bruce nodding, face blank and empty.

Ashley felt broken. Her cousin had always been a boy full of laughter and mischief. Plans of adventure twinkling in his brown eyes. Those same eyes now cold, showing nothing but the reflection of light.

Her heart broke for what felt like the millionth time since she had awoke to her mother's scream. A tiny sob escaped her as she reached out to take his hand. No reaction until she whimpered his name.

The boy looking startled at the small hand in his, dragging his gaze up to meet her eyes. Seeing her. The dam gave way.

"Ashley!" he gasped. Pulling her tight against him, weeping now. Ashley felt oddly grown up. Older. Wiser. She wept with her cousin/brother, wept for all they had lost.

Through her tears she could see her father, his face a mask of grief, his own tears running unchecked. Clutching the boy to her, she held on for dear life.

xxxxxxx

By the time the funeral came about, Ashley was numb, hardened. She stood next to Bruce as the dirt covered his parents' coffins, their hands clasped tight. She was the only one he spoke to other then Alfred.

She mourned for more than her family, she mourned for the boy she had always known, now replaced by a stoic silent young man in black wool. He turned slowly to face her. For a fleeting moment his face softened as he squeezed her hand.

"Be good, Ash." He said placing a kiss on her forehead before letting go and walking stiffly way. He climbed into the waiting limo and was gone, sent away to boarding school. That would be the last time she set eyes on her cousin/brother/best friend for almost 11 years.

xxxxxx

Wayne Tech Industries Board of Directors stepped in and made sweeping changes. Bruce would attend the best schools and be groomed to take the helm when he came of age.

Her father Joseph Embers, however was neatly cut out. Told the only reason he had been a part for so long was because Thomas had wanted it that way. Loopholes were found in the Wayne's will, leaving her family with a small pittance compared to what Martha and Thomas had intended.

Death had stepped in and changed their lives forever.

Ashley's delicate mother, Katherine, never fully recovered from the shock of losing her sister. She quietly went insane.

By the time Ashley was 9, her mother was a ghostly woman wondering the halls of her sanitarium.

Two months after Ashley's 12th birthday her mother took her own life. Ashley was forced to accept another visit from death.

Joseph, took to drinking and gambling. Going out every night, leaving Ashley with no one to comfort her when the nightmares came.

When he was home he was surly and cold. The little girl sought comfort in what she could. It was not long before her father had gone thru all their money.

He attempted to fix it buy making a foolish deal. He lost the house and they were forced to move to a small hovel on the outskirts of Gotham.

Ashley had become more introverted as the years passed. Waiting for the holidays, when she would sit by the phone, for the only thing that made her smile anymore. Bruce was a voice on the other end of the phone, calls that became fewer and fewer. Until he had simply stopped calling.

xxxxx

At 13, Ashley discovered that she had no interest in boys at all. But she was becoming more and more interested in the other girls. She pursued the desire and found other like-minded girls. Wild and tough girls, from this new world she lived in. She learned a lot about the shadier side of Gotham. Yet still seemed to retain a youthful innocence.

On her 15th birthday she told her gin soaked father that she was a lesbian. It did not go over well. They had a horrible fight that ended with her crying in her cubbyhole of a room while he drank himself stupid. After that they hardly spoke at all.

Ashley missed Bruce greatly. She had continued to write but he never responded. Ashley now found solace in music. Finding she had a gift for song writing and a deep Smokey voice. A voice that sounded much older then her years. She made friends with a boy in her music class. He helped her make a single song demo.

Ashley now had a plan.

xxxxx

Two months before she turned 16, Ashley left. She had managed to save some small but valuable pieces of her mother's jewelry; it would pay her way out of Gotham.

She slung her guitar on her shoulder and with her few belongings, headed out. 11 years and all she had to show for it was a bitter, sarcastic wit and a talent for singing. Abandoned by all she had loved, she had no remorse about leaving.

Bruce had disappeared into Europe. Ashley personally believed that the board of directors had quietly done away with her cousin. But really what did it matter? He hadn't called in years. To hell with him. She walked to the bus station and bought a ticket to Metropolis and a newspaper.

If all that Gotham had to give her was sorrow, then Fuck Gotham. She was headed for The Metro; she was going to be a star. Then she would tell them all to go and fuck themselves.

She thumbed thru the paper waiting for the bus. Seemed she was getting out just in time. Now some freak vigilantly dressed as a bat was stalking criminals on the night streets. Jesus, what next?

With a dismissive snort she dropped the paper in a bin and boarded the bus. Almost 16 and full of confidence, she felt bullet proof and ten feet tall. The bus pulled out. She didn't look back.

xxxxx

Six months later, Ashley had to admit that Metropolis was not the glory she had pictured. More like Hell on earth. Who knew there could be a place more despicable then Gotham?

She was too young for the legitimate business to chance hiring with out ID. Ashley could not stoop to dancing in the nudie bars or turning tricks on the street, though many a pimp attempted to coerce her. Her stubborn pride stood firmly in the way.

Her so-called cousin was not sleeping with the fishes after all. Shortly after she left, he made his return to Gotham.

A welcome return amide the flash of paparattzi and short-skirted women. He had come into his inheritance and seemed to care little about anything. Shallow, frivolous and arrogant, he had become part of the jet set, another billionaire playboy the tabloids adored and hated in turn.

Wicked pain at the knowledge that he had simply forgotten she existed made her stubborn and prideful. She refused to call for help. Though she needed it badly. She feared being rejected again. He hero-worship of the boy she remember had long since been dashed to pieces. No, she would not ask him for help. Would not be the poor relation begging on his doorstep.

Her love life was another difficult problem. Oh there were plenty of women who chased her, but they all wanted her to do something she wouldn't.

'Pose naked for my friend he's an artist.'

'Oh it's not really prostitution, we live in a house.'

'I know, but if you let them do it to you they pay really well.'

Disgusted Ashley had stopped looking for Miss Right.

And that was how she had ended up out of the frying pan and into the fire.

The money from her mother's jewels had long since run out. She could not pay her rent for the crappy room in the fleabag flophouse she was staying at. The landlord had taken her meager possessions and locked her out.

She stood in the closet size room that smelled of old fried food and flatulence. The repulsive proprietor leered at her with all five of his teeth. His stained and torn t-shirt road high on his fat hairy belly, which he scratched.

"Lookie here Missie" he said nastily. "You got two options." He held up his grubby sausage fingers. "One: you find a way to pay me the $150 bucks you owe in rent. Or Two:" his pig eyes glinted as he pushed his rolly chair back.

"You git on your knees and suck." He wiggled his unibrow. "That's just for starters." He finished putting the stinking stub of cigar back in his few teeth.

Ashley fought the bile that rose in her throat and pulled her shoulders back.

"Not on your best day with a note from God!" she spat. He looked at the gay pride buttons on her leather jacket and shrugged.

"Git your dyke ass outta here." He dismissed her.

xxxxxx

Now homeless, she still would not make the call. A few weeks later she was nearing desperation. When she could, she played music on the street for change, ducking out when the cops took notice. Yes, a night in jail would be much safer and warmer, but then that call would most certainly be made.

Nights, she slipped into the shelters or missions in the shabbier areas. Taking refuge among the other lost souls of Metropolis. But she felt guilty when she looked at the hollow eyed children and their bone weary mothers. Or the grizzled old men with bags on their feet. Unlike them she did have a way out. She was just too afraid to find out if it truly was an option or not.

She took little of the food the gentle sisters offered, not wanting another to go without because of her. She did accept the offer of clean clothes. One young nun gave her a long dark wool skirt. Not really her taste but her jeans had become so ragged and stiff they chaffed at her skin. And in the face of oncoming autumn she could not refuse the warmth it provided.

She found that if she waited until the nightclubs on Dennison Ave opened she could play to the crowds that flocked to the club district.

She stood on a corner, case open at her feet, guitar in hand and sang, hoping they would give her coins. Across the busy street the neon lights and pulsing music of Club Zero beckoned the glittering crowd.

Friday night brought the young and carefree members of Metro's populace out to strut their stuff. Beautiful, coiffed, bejeweled women and slick, smooth skinned men. She admired the abundance of cleavage and long legs, fighting back a wave of hunger. They hardly took notice of her.

Finishing her song she paused to catch her breath. A bright silver jag pulled up to the curb in front of Club Zero. Photographers appeared on the sidewalk, jumping in the road to get a picture of the car's occupants. Ashley's heart pounded. Was it Bruce? Had he found her at last? But no, this was not Bruce Wayne.

The young man who was standing amid the media flurry was not her cousin. He was tall and angular, dressed in flashy garments of black and dark plum with a smoothly shaven head.

She stared at him, something familiar about him, but her hunger-phased mind could not place the face. Almond shaped, sliver-blue eyes caught her own. A slow heat bubbled up in her belly. His face still held softness that spoke of youth.

He winked at her. As quickly as his gaze had found her, it was gone, leaving her feeling flushed and confused.

What the hell was that about?

He was well... a he. All be it an exquisite specimen of masculine beauty, but Male non-the less. She chalked it up to fatigue and lack of food.

He stepped to the curb and was joined by another young man, not as beautiful but trying and a colt legged girl. All hair and painted lips, she draped herself on his arm.

Lights popped and flashed in Ashley eyes, sucking in a breath she turned her back to the dazzling trio. Why had her heart leapt to think it was Bruce? Did she still really think he would come looking for her? Would he even recognize her?

Looking at her refection in the store window she decided he would not. Lean, dirty and bitter was what she read on the face in the window. Hardly the dark haired little girl in black velvet he had left by his parents' grave. That's how she felt, like he had left her with the dead and the forgotten.

She made nasty face at herself and wondered if she would be able earn enough to recolor her hair? Before she left Gotham she had shorn the long brown locks to her shoulders and dyed it fire engine red. But now her regrowth was a 2-inch strip at the top.

She was really thin, her face all edges and bones that held her large green eyes. No, Bruce would not recognize her now, and why was she still clinging to this juvenile idea that he was going swoop down and save her? She was a little old to be hoping for the knight to rescue her. Shaking her befuddled head she went back to playing music.

xxxxxx

Hours later the crowds had thinned and the gray night sky started to drizzle. She had made enough to maybe get a cup of coffee. A bad night. The rain only showed signs of getting worse.

Ashley decided to pack it in and head for the shelter. She gathered her things and wandered down to the coffee stand. She had just enough for a hot coffee.

The young pimpled guy took pity on her and gave her a stale donut for free. She thanked him and wandered farther. She fell to thinking of her past, letting herself remember, something she didn't indulge in often.

She turned a corner without looking and walked smack into scraggly man with greasy yellow hair and track marks down his skinny arms. She mumbled a pardon and attempted to move on. He grabbed her by the shoulder and leaned down into her face.

"Hows about you sing sumin gist fer me?" He hissed his sickly sour breath in her face. Revulsion plain on her face, Ashley pushed him off.

"Fuck off!" She snapped and turned around. She headed back toward the club district. The rain was pissing down now and many of the clubs were losing business to the weather.

People dashed back and forth around her and she tried to get away from the dirty man following her. Her heart pounded with fear as she looked again and saw he was closer. Still looking over she shoulder she bumped into a burly guy standing under the awing of Club Zero.

"Beat it skag." He spat and pushed her away. She bit her lip and skittered away from his mocking laughter. Fear had her because that junkie was definitely gaining on her. Tripping on the long skirt, now heavy with water, she took a turn and ran without thinking.

Suddenly she found herself in unfamiliar territory. In her panic she had turned left instead of right. Thus she ended up in the very wrong place. The nightclub district ran along the edge of the worst area in Metropolis.

Suicide Slums.

Ashley had blundered into the dark, dank neighborhood.

Frozen in place with utter panic, she didn't have a chance to think and calm herself before a cruel hand twisted in her hair yanking her bodily into a small ally.

The man pushed her against the wall roughly, she struck out at him in blind terror. He wrenched the guitar case from her numb fingers. She heard the instrument shatter on the ground as he punched her in the face. Stars exploded behind her eyes and she thought she was going to black out. Claw like hands twisted her breasts painfully as he pressed himself against her.

"I'm gonna fuck you bitch." He hissed and turned her to face the wall. Dazed and tasting blood in her mouth she fought feebly as he rucked her skirt up and grabbed at her panties. The abrasive brick bit into her face and... he was gone.

There was a sound like meat hitting the ground and then a thud, followed by a deep groan. Turning slowly, blinking water out of her eyes Ashley gasped. Standing over her would be rapist was the blue-eyed young man from the club.

Water sluiced down his face, hand still fisted as if to strike the man again. He had a dark and violent expression on his handsome face. Her gasp brought his head up, the loathsome look disappeared. He extended his other hand to her.

"Are you alright?" His voice like silk. Blood pounded in her head, adrenaline whipping through her and deep hunger crashed down on her shoulders. Oh god no! She was swooning like a girl! The last thing she knew strong arms caught her before she hit the ground.

Blackness.