Disclaimer: I do not own and am not, in any way, affiliated with the Dark Knight franchise.

"I'll never know what made it so exciting
Why all at once my heart took flight
I only know when he began to dance with me
I could have danced, danced, danced all night"

― Alan Jay Lerner, "I Could Have Danced All Night" from My Fair Lady

Prologue

A line of limousines and other luxury vehicles idled as decadent guests, most assisted by chauffeurs, stepped out of them. Audrey Campbell pressed her face close to the glass, eyes straining to see through the inky blackness of the window tint, and tried to catch a glimpse of Gotham City's finest.

This was her second date with a Chad something or other. Hearst, she reminded herself. He worked at Daggett Industries and had been a blind date set up by her friend, Beth. Their first date had gone well. Well enough, at least, that they had agreed to a second. Now she was being whisked to a charity ball thrown by Miranda Tate, a name and face Audrey had only ever seen in the papers or on the news.

She took a deep breath, counted to three, and slowly exhaled, rubbing her palms along the slick leather seats of the interior. In the year that she had been back in Gotham, she had been on several dates, none of which had been this fancy or made her this nervous. She hadn't grown up in the poorer parts of the city, but her family was never what anyone would have deemed wealthy. Here's to hoping I don't royally screw this up.

A quick glance to her left confirmed that her date was still talking business. He had been on his phone non-stop since the car had driven away from her apartment. "The price of negotiations, I'm afraid," he had grumbled at her, covering the mouthpiece.

They briefly locked eyes and she held up her compact mirror. He nodded, a patronizing smile on his face. When he looked away, now barking orders into the phone in a stern voice, she rolled her eyes and made sure the carefully (and rarely) applied makeup had not melted off somewhere between her apartment and the sprawling manor.

A beep signaled the end of the call. "Ready?" he asked, putting on a silver Venetian doctor mask. He stepped out first, missing her grimace at the pet name, and offered his hand as Audrey slipped her own mask on, a crimson and gold number with a large flower and fake cranberry-like jewels hanging off one end. It matched the deep red dress she was wearing.

The walk from limo to ball room felt like a blur. She was glad for the anonymity of the mask as photographers snapped their cameras, lights blinding. Under no circumstances did she want her face to end up attached to some story in the gossip column. The ladies at work already had enough ammunition to tease her with between her general lack of a love life and impossible work ethic; she did not need to pour straight gasoline on that fire.

As if by magic, a glass of champagne appeared in her hand. She had just put the flute to her lips when Chad linked his arm through her and dragged her off into a corner to meet his boss, Phillip Stryver. She barely had time to appreciate what, or who, was around her.

"Mr. Stryver." Audrey found herself shoved forward unceremoniously. Like a lamb being inspected before slaughter. "I'd like you to meet my date, Miss Audrey Campbell." She beamed at him so hard her mouth hurt. "Audrey works at Gotham General Hospital."

"Pleasure," he said, giving her hand a weak shake. Her father had always put stock in a man's handshake and his belief had spilled over to his daughter. He's as arrogant as he is nicely dressed. God, I could never be a politician's wife, and at this she snorted unattractively. Neither man heard her commit the unladylike offense, but a figure standing next to Stryver chuckled.

Until that moment she had been completely unaware of him. He was tall, nicely dressed, but cheaply so compared to others in the room. His mask was basic: a black Zorro number. Hm… stance: rigid, clothes: non-descript, invisible: check, eyes: everywhere. Body guard. Of course. She decided she liked him as he was one of the least pretentious people in her immediate vicinity; he had found her faux pas funny, at least. And he's got a sexy laugh.

She glanced around the room, wondering which hoity-toity political figure he was working for. Curiosity fully piqued, but unable to pick his patron out of the sea of finely dressed people, she looked back to study him again. He raised an eyebrow at her. She could feel the heat of a blush on her cheeks, slightly embarrassed at having been caught, but stared on. A tingling sensation crept over her, warming her entire body. Under the mask his eyes were a lovely shade of blue and they locked on to hers as though encouraging her to make the next move.

With that, the spell was broken. Not brave enough, sorry, buddy. She was still feeling bold enough, however, to shoot him a wink before turning her attentions back to her date.

The thrill of feeling fancy was short lived. Chad and Stryver talked business for what was easily the most boring fifteen minutes of her life. She soldiered through by politely peppering their conversation with questions before boredom got the better of her. "Sorry," she said, touching Chad's arm and completely interrupting. "Did you want to dance?"

Chad flashed her a supercilious grin. "In just a moment, darling," he hissed under his breath. With an annoyed sigh she downed the rest of her champagne and stole another flute off the tray of a passing bus boy.

Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. Thirty. Forty. Fifty. Sixty.

Audrey checked her phone and drained a gin and tonic. She had graduated from champagne about halfway through waiting and was now sitting off to the side. A sad prom wallflower. However, she had managed to have lovely conversations with an attorney from the DA's office and the Mayor's wife. There had also been quite a stir when the reclusive Bruce Wayne crashed the party. Audrey had caught a glimpse of him and, having expected someone of Quasimodo caliber, was disappointed to find he was just another boring rich man.

Chad continued to ignore her. She squinted at the screen as she scrolled through text messages and tried to find the right thread. Bingo! She pumped her fist in the air at having managed to find Beth's name. A man standing next to her furrowed his eyebrows at her and stepped away. Maybe this wallflower has had a little too much to drink. Whoops!

To: Beth
SOS. Chad is THE WORST.

Sent.

To: Audrey
Oh no! What's happening?

To: Beth
I think Chad's under the impression that his boss is his date.

To: Audrey
LOL Oh my god. I'll make it up to you. Promise.

A hand touched her shoulder and she jumped, dropping her phone in the process. The body guard picked it up and handed it to her. His eyes were hypnotizing and she wondered what he looked like without the mask. She opened her mouth, but he put a finger against her lips and led her to the dance floor. Dizzy with excitement, she followed.

Music played, a beautiful classical piece, as dresses swished past and other masked couples danced all around them. Am I Cinderella? What the hell is happening? She drank him in: his steady hand on her back, graceful step, his vaguely woodsy, but not overpowering, smell. She didn't even spare Chad a glance as she whirled, twirled, and tried not to step on any toes. This is what the whole night should have been like.

She was light-headed, drunk on alcohol and attraction.

Audrey's groan at the end of the dance was lost in the clapping. Rosy cheeked and slightly sweaty, she ripped off her mask, shaking loose some of her dark hair. The body guard tucked it behind her ears before he took her face between his hands, examining it as though trying to memorize every detail.

Then he kissed her.

His lips were surprisingly soft and she could feel the scratchy beginnings of stubble on his chin. Her eyes were closed when he pulled away and when she finally opened them he had disappeared into the throng of couples.

"Oh my god," she whispered, swaying slightly as she touched her fingers to her bottom lip. A smile, the first real one of the night, lit up her face. "He's good."

No one is going to believe this. Not in a million years.

(-)

Later, after everything went to hell, Audrey would come back to this moment again and again.