A/N - And I'm back at it again. This was an idea that has been kicking around in my mind for a few months and just recently I've had a chance to write it up into something decent.

Please review kindly. :)

March 1

A single flame from a lighter was enough to light up the alleyway. It flashed for a moment, reflecting off a face as it burned the end of a cigarette until it turned red.

"Where the hell is he?" a man asked, taking a nervous drag from the cigarette. His hands shook slightly, partly from the nerves and the chilly early March night.

"I don't know. Seriously, if I knew I'd tell you."

"I don't like doing this sort of thing in the open," the man said again, looking up at the tall apartment buildings on either side of them. No one in the building would bat an eye at their presence. It was the sort of thing that would happen in the Narrows. It was nothing new to them. But knowing that Batman could be anywhere at anytime made the man nervous.

"He'd better show soon or this deal is off."

"It'll be worth your time, believe me."

Both men turned their attention towards the quiet street as they heard footsteps approaching in the freshly fallen snow. They both waited in anticipation until the visitor spoke. They saw him approach, a rather short young man with two larger men flanking him on either side.

"Gentlemen, sorry I'm late."

They weren't interested in being polite. "You got your money. Now, where is it, Crane?"

Dr. Crane smiled, opening a bag and tossing them a small package. The man looked down at it in the dim lighting, quickly examining what he was holding.

"That's it?"

"That's it. I have more but I have other dealers that I need to meet. High demand, you know," Crane said, zipping up the bag.

The two men looked at each other, exchanging words silently. "Hold up."

Crane paused, a smug smile growing on his face.

"How much for the rest?"

"Same as before," Crane said. "Eight grand."

"Shit," one of the men exclaimed under his breath.

Crane shrugged. "Well, like I said, I do have other interested parties who are willing to pay and will certainly recoup their cost and some in a matter of days. This stuff is growing in popularity, especially among the younger crowd. They won't have trouble dealing it."

The two men glanced at each other, one nodding to the other. The one with the cigarette blew out his final drag before tossing it onto the ground. He reached around to his back, causing the two men on either side of Crane to take a step closer, their own hands going behind their backs, ready for a fight. Instead, he pulled out a large amount of folded bills.

"Eight grand, you said?"

Crane smirked and nodded as the man shoved a fist full of money into Crane's hand. Somewhat irritated with the wad of money in his hand, Crane took each bill and counted each and every one before putting it into his coat pocket. He handed another large package to the two men.

"It was a pleasure doing business with you two," he said, turning on his heel, leaving the alleyway and the two men alone.

Gordon looked down at the lifeless body at his feet, laying in a pool of blood and slush.

Not one of these kind of nights again, he thought.

The body lay on the sidewalk, just outside the light of a streetlight. Several police cruisers blocked the street as their lights shone on the buildings around them. Gordon looked up at the apartment buildings and momentarily saw a curtain move or a light go out. He wasn't surprised. This area of Gotham was used to being up all night.

"Sorry to call you out commissioner," an officer said, walking up to him with a pad of paper in his hand. "But I thought you'd want to come out being this the fourth homicide of this type this week."

"Not a problem, detective," he said, crouching down beside the body as he pulled on a pair of latex gloves.

"He looks to be around 16 years old," the officer commented. "There's no word on the person who pulled the trigger. Forensics have already taken a look at him."

Gordon glanced up at the buildings. "Any witnesses?"

"Unfortunately, no."

None that will talk, Gordon thought to himself as he sighed, looking back down at the boy laying on the cold concrete.

He reached and picked up the victims hands, looking closely at the fingers. Once again, there was that grey substance on the hands. The one thing that was connecting all the homicides.

"I want a toxicology report done as soon as possible," he said to the detective standing above him. "Send the report to my office as soon as it comes in."

Gordon stood up and pulled off the gloves before walking back to his car. As though on cue, he looked up at the apartment building across the road and saw a familiar figure standing near the ledge. As quickly as he saw him, he was then gone. Batman and Commissioner Gordon rarely met anymore, but Gordon knew when he was around.

He looked back down at the kid on the ground before turning to the detective. "Okay, get the coroner in here."

Batman stood high up on top of another apartment building near the Narrows. 5 years. It had been just over 5 years since she was killed, since he was blamed for the death of a man, since he gave up everything; hope. Not a day had gone by that Rachel's face and words filled his mind with the promise of them being together when he was done being Batman. But now, he'd never be done.

"Get the hell away from me!"

Batman heard the voice and waited, trying to figure out which direction to go.

"Somebody help me!"

There it was. Without another moments hesitation, Batman swung off the roof and landed onto the next building before racing across it to the next until he looked down at the alleyway below where a young woman was bent over, holding her head.

"Come on, man," one of the assailants said, nervously. "Let's hurry this up. I got her purse."

"That's not all I want," the other one said, reaching down and taking the woman by the back of the neck.

The woman cried out as she felt herself being forced to stand and then pushed towards the brick wall. All of a sudden, he let go. She looked over her shoulder slowly and saw that both men were suddenly gone. Her purse laid on the ground where the one man had originally stood. Carefully, she picked it back up and fished through it nervously until she found the one item she wished she had on herself ten minutes prior. Without warning, a hand touched her shoulder and she quickly turned, ready for another attack. She pulled the switchblade from her purse and swung it out in front of her. When she saw what or rather who she cut, she dropped the knife out of her hand in shock.

"Oh. my. God. I am so sorry," she said. "I...I thought you were one of those guys coming back."

Batman held a hand to his cheek feeling the sting of a fresh wound on his face. He quickly turned and disappeared into the darkness.

The woman sighed.

"Good going Em. You really know how to make a friend of the Batman," she said sarcastically as she walked out of the alleyway and continued on her way.

Emily Tucker stomped her feet, allowing the remaining slush and snow to drop on the mat. She glanced around the waiting area to see it was nearly full of women and men. One was signing in at the receptionists window. Only a handful looked up when she walked in the door, while the others kept to themselves. She ignored the smell in the room and walked towards the door to the examination rooms. She passed the receptionist who looked twice at her.

"Emily! Where have you been? We've been worried and Bill has been asking about you," she said, taking the clipboard with the latest information on the newest patient of the evening. She closed the window between the waiting room and her desk before standing up, eyeing Emily carefully.

"I'm fine, Louise," she replied, taking her coat off and hanging it on the coat rack. "I just ran into a little trouble on my way in."

"Emily! You're bleeding!"

"I am?"

Louise grabbed a handful of kleenex's off her desk and pressed them to the cut on Emily's temple. She put her hand on her back and ushered her into the break room, bumping into another gentleman and a woman on their way in, both surprised to see Emily and the fact that she looked a mess.

"I'm fine," she insisted as she was pushed into a chair and the three huddled around her, gathering ice, bandages and a washcloth. She explained the story of how she was on her way to work and was surprised and attacked by two men after coming off of the train.

"Well, it's a good thing that Batman showed up when he did," Janie commented. "It sickens me to think that something worse could've happened to you tonight, Emily."

"You're more than welcome to head home for the night if you're wanting to," Bill stated, leaning against the table. "I can call someone in for you."

She shook her head as Louise pressed a bandage across Emily's temple, covering the cut and handing the pack of ice to Emily to put to her forehead where a bruise was forming.

"It's a busy night, you're short-handed and I'm already here," she stated, holding the ice to her forehead.

Bill put his hand on her shoulder. "Okay, but take it easy tonight. I want you to let someone know if you feel dizzy or feeling sick to your stomach."

Emily smiled. "I know the signs of a concussion."

"Yeah, but it doesn't mean that you'll pay attention to it."

She stood up and handed him the pack of ice before walking out of the room to start work.

Damn.

Bruce lightly touched the cut across his chin, realizing it was still bleeding and by the looks of it, it would need stitches. He had had injuries of various degrees in the past but never to his face. He had always been careful to protect the only exposed area of his body but this one time, something happened. Bruce tried to think back. Perhaps he assumed the woman wouldn't be able to move as quickly or maybe he was just getting older and slower.

"You called for me, sir?" Alfred said, placing a tray of tea on the table beside where Bruce sat.

"Yeah, I need some help seeing a cut along my jaw."

Bruce tipped his head to the side as Alfred pulled on his glasses. Alfred took at look at the wound and grimaced.

"It'll probably need a few stitches but I don't trust myself enough to make it clean enough that it wouldn't be noticeable when it heals," Alfred said. "I wouldn't want to leave a scar on Bruce Wayne's face."

Bruce sighed. "And leave something that would connect me to Batman."

"Unfortunately, yes." Alfred paused for a moment, thinking. "I could take you to the hospital, sir."

Bruce winced. "I don't think that's a good idea. The last thing I need is to have it made known that I was there."

Alfred nodded and thought again as another idea came to mind. "I know of an after hours clinic near the Narrows that treats low-income families and the homeless. I do know that they don't ask for information."

"Sounds good."

Bruce limped into the clinic, the hoodie pulled low over his head and his worn jacket wrapped tightly around himself. He held a piece of cloth to his chin and made his way to the receptionist and signed in, barely looking at the woman sitting across from her and saying nothing. He handed the clipboard back to her and sat down in the waiting area between a teenage mother with her crying toddler and an asleep elderly man. Bruce would quickly glance up from time to time at the other patients in the room. A woman in dirty clothing with a horrible cough sat on the other side of the room, clearing her throat loudly every so often. He watched as these people came in and out as he continued to sit, waiting. Bruce nearly lost track of time when another name was called.

"Tom Worley?"

No one moved.

"Tom?"

Recognition passed over Bruce and he stood up, following the trailing form of a young woman in blue scrubs and a brown haired ponytail at the back of her neck. He followed her into an examination room and she closed the door behind her before going back to the clip board, silently reading off the few pieces of information she had been given.

"My name is Emily Tucker. Have a seat. So, you think that you need some stitches, Mr. Worley?" Emily said, reaching for a pair of gloves on the counter.

Bruce said nothing and sat down on the chair. He kept his eyes focused on the floor, watching her blue and white running shoes move around the room, gathering supplies and placing them on the counter in a row. Finally, she sat down across from him and smiled, reaching for the piece of cloth that Bruce held against his face.

He saw her face and instantly recognized it; the bruise and cut on the side of her face making it more obvious that she was the woman he encountered earlier that night and had inflicted the same wound on his face that she was about to suture for him. He quickly looked down, trying to think up a way to get out of his current situation.

"Mister Worley, I can help you if you would let me," she said, acting more sweetly than she was used to. "I promise that I'll do it as fast as I can but with it being a facial wound, I'll have to do many smaller stitches in order to minimalize a scar."

She gently reached out for the cloth to which Bruce allowed her to take. Gingerly, she touched his face and winced. "That's a pretty nasty cut. How did you get it?"

Bruce said nothing and kept his head down as she reached for the peroxide.

"Get me someone else, please," he said, softly.

Emily sighed, slowly getting more frustrated with the man and mentally tossing the sweetness into the trash. "I'm sorry Mister Worley but there isn't anyone else here that can treat you right now. We're short staffed tonight and I'm more than qualified to help you. You're welcome to leave and go to the hospital but without any insurance documentation, they will not treat you there."

He nodded as Emily reached for the peroxide once again. "By the looks of it, I'll need you to take off your hood too. The angle of where it's at is going to make it difficult."

Bruce groaned inwardly as he removed his hood. At first, Emily didn't even look at him, but instead she tilted his head to the side while she slid her chair closer to him to clean the cut before she got down to business. She began the first stitch and then finally, she glanced up at Bruce's face and then back at the cut on his face before looking back at Bruce's face. He didn't meet her eyes. She continued to glance back and forth, trying to concentrate on the stitch. As she tied the first one off, she sat back for a moment to reach for more of the clear thin thread.

"You never answered my question earlier," she said, softly. "How did you get this cut?"

He paused.

"I fell," he finally replied. He was certain that he heard her scoff and perhaps even roll her eyes if he could see her face. Bruce felt her touch his face again, placing the second stitch. It did sting and he held still.

"When I'm done, and it's healed it'll be barely noticeable," she assured him as she tied it off and reached for the next one.

"Thank you," he said, trying not to move his jaw too much.

"You're welcome Mister Wayne."

"So you do recognize me."

Emily nodded lightly. "It wasn't until you took off the hood though. I would've never had guessed otherwise. It's a pretty good disguise."

She reached for more thread and he took that moment to watch her as she carefully threaded the needle.

"So, what happened to you that you got that cut and bruise on your head?"

Emily paused, looking at Bruce before shaking her head. "I fell."

They stared at each other for a moment when the door suddenly opened and a young man walked in, his hands full of boxes of medical supplies. Emily quickly stood up, standing in front of Bruce, blocking any view that the young man would have of her patient.

"Matt, what are you doing in here?" she exclaimed, annoyed. The young man seemed startled at first but then disgusted as he pushed the boxes onto the countertop.

"Bringing in the orders you asked for, Miss Tucker," he snapped. "Don't have a fit or anything. Geez."

The young man closed the door behind him, cursing a few colourful words of profanity and mumbling about it being a certain time of the month. With a sigh, she turned back around.

"Sorry about that," she said, sitting back down.

"I appreciate that," Bruce stated. "Thank you."

As she placed her next stitch and she was certain that he wasn't going to move or speak without ruining her suture, she spoke.

"Honestly, I should be thanking you," she said, softly. "If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have made it into work alive tonight. I should apologize as well for giving this cut to you. I wasn't expecting you to be suddenly be behind me. I was certain that you were one of those men. Frankly, I wish you were."

Bruce didn't know what to say. A complete stranger knew that Batman and Bruce Wayne were one and the same. He would glance over at her, and he would see her blue eyes looking at him before quickly averting them back to the sutures.

An uneasy silence filled the room and remained while Emily continued to stitch up the wound.

Fifteen minutes later and she was done. She pushed back on her chair and stood up, pulling off her gloves and tossing them into the garbage can beside her. Emily began to write up the follow-up information on Bruce's chart as he stood up and pulled his hood back over his head. She ripped the top sheet off the clipboard continued to write on it before handing it to him.

"If you need help getting the stitches removed, come back in ten days. I work the midnight shift Monday to Friday and you can ask for me," she said, plainly. "In the meantime, keep it clean and be careful shaving around it."

Bruce nodded and pocketed the sheet of paper. "Thanks but I think I'll be able to handle it. Who do I pay?"

"No one," she replied. "The clinic is funded on donations. Most of our patients are unable to pay their own utility bills, so it isn't fair to require them to pay for medical care."

Emily extended her hand and smiled, one that he was certain was forced. "It was a nice meeting you Mr. Worley."

He took her hand and shook it. "You too, Miss Tucker."

She opened the door for him and he turned to look back once more before walking back into the waiting room and out of the clinic.

For the rest of the early morning hours, Emily could barely concentrate on the remainder of her patients. Thankfully, the majority of them were cases of ear infections, strep throat and the other unpleasant illnesses that came with the winter months. It was nothing that she couldn't handle. She was more than thankful when 6 am finally arrived and her shift ended. The horizon was just beginning to show evidence of a sunrise but it was still a while away. Emily pulled her coat around her and held onto her hood as the winter wind pulled at it. She walked down the street until she saw that familiar coat stand up from a bench looking out into a park along the sidewalk.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. "I thought that you'd be long gone or doing whatever it is that you do during the day. Don't you have a job somewhere?"

"I do. But I was going to walk you home," Bruce replied. "It's the least that I can do."

Emily continued to walk, keeping her pace brisk as the chill was getting to her. Bruce kept up.

"I can handle myself, Mr. Worley," she snapped. "Besides, you've already repaid me, remember? I've lived in this city my entire life. One mugging in my lifetime isn't going to change things."

"Of course not," he stated. "How about we go out for coffee then?"

Emily stopped and turned to face him. "If you're just afraid that I will be telling someone about your secret, you can rest easy. I'm a nobody in this town. I spend most of my time with the lowest of the low in Gotham. I live off of a meager salary and live in a junky area of the city. The last thing I'd want is to become noticeable. So please, do us both a favour and leave me alone."

Emily turned and continued on her way, leaving Bruce staring after her. After a few moments, a car pulled up beside him. He climbed into the back seat and pulled back the hood as the car began to move.

"Any luck, sir?"

Bruce shook his head and looked up at Alfred in the rearview mirror. "I'm still not certain that I can trust her."

"Of course not. You have just met her. Do you know anything about her?"

"Nothing more than what she has told me and her word that she won't tell anyone," Bruce replied, pulling the hoodie and the t-shirt beneath off and over his head. "Drive to Wayne Tower. I'm going to do some research."

Alfred nodded as he turned a corner.

"So I'm guessing that Batman isn't going to be working until those sutures are gone," Alfred stated as he continued to drive while Bruce changed into a white dress shirt and began to do up the buttons.

"Unfortunately yes," Bruce said.

"Perhaps this is a good time for a vacation, sir," Alfred suggested.

Bruce smiled.

Lucius walked down the hall and stopped, surprised to see both Bruce Wayne's door open and the man sitting at his desk, looking intently at the computer. He looked down at his watch, surprised to see Bruce at work so early for once.

"I don't believe I've ever seen you here this early before. This may be a new record, Mr. Wayne," Lucius said from the door. "Starting a new trend?"

Bruce chuckled. "I was in the area this morning and stopped in to do a little research."

Fox looked at the stacks of files on Bruce's desk. "A little research? On what?"

"More of a whom than a what," Bruce corrected.

Fox closed the door behind him and walked up to the desk.

"Her name is Emily Tucker," Bruce added.

Fox thought for a moment. "I don't believe I'm familiar with the name."

"She works at that after hour downtown clinic near the Narrows."

Fox nodded. "I've heard of that place. Westview Clinic, I believe. What about this woman?"

"Emily Tucker is the same woman that Batman ran into the other night and by some unusual circumstance that I wish not to go into, she injured him," Bruce said, pausing and pointing to his sutured chin, to which Lucius took a look at. "And she was also the same woman who sutured it up."

Lucius smiled astonishly. "What are the chances?"

"Aparantly good," Bruce replied. "She pieced it together that the man she stitched up was the same one that she injured."

Fox winced. "So, you're looking her up."

Bruce nodded. "So far all I've come up with is her home address, birthdate, place of birth, the year she graduated from University and a small collection of photo's from the newspapers."

"I guess that's good news that you haven't found that she's connected to the mob, has a relative in Arkham or has a criminal record."

Bruce sighed, running his hand through his hair.

"I wish there was something on her," he said, looking at the stacks of files. "She seems too clean. There's nothing on her. It's as though she has lived under the radar for her entire life."

"Maybe you have found one of the few normal people in Gotham that you may be able to trust with your secret," Fox concluded. "Rather than trying to look up information on her, why don't you get to know her? See if you can trust her. She may become an asset."

"She doesn't want to see me," Bruce replied.

Fox paused for a moment, thinking before he spoke. "Knowing your secret can be a burden, especially if you don't truly know the man behind the mask. If she only knows you as the man she has read about in the tabloids and has heard on the news, it can be frustrating and troublesome. You'll have to show her who you really are."

2 weeks later

No one was ready for it.

Another winter storm. While the rest of the world seemed to be getting ready for Spring, Gotham was still ankle-deep in Winter.

Emily pulled the clinic door closed tightly against the howling wind and the swirling snow. She brushed the accumulated snow off her shoulders and pushed the hood off of her head. She smiled politely at the few patients that had gathered in the room. A little girl waved at her as she sat in the corner with her mother.

She waved back as she walked into the back rooms and hung up her coat before gathering her stethoscope and pinning on her name tag. The door to Bill's office suddenly opened.

"Emily, can you come in here?"

Emily glanced at Louise at the receptionists desk, who merely shrugged back at her. Emily became concerned when Bill closed the door behind her.

"When were you going to tell us?"

"Tell you what?"

Oh my God, what is he talking about?

"You treated a Mr..." Bill paused looking down at a piece of paper in front of him. "A Mr. Tom Worley, correct?"

"Um, what was that pertaining to again? I can't recall the name."

He handed her the yellow copy of the information sheet that Bruce had filled out and she saw her writing in the followup box. She nodded.

"I remember," she said. "He was here for stitches."

"Did he say anything to you?"

Emily could feel her heart pounding in her ears. Was it evident on her face?

"No, he didn't say much at all."

Bill turned to his desk and picked up a large envelope. He handed it to her.

"This arrived by courier this afternoon," he said, as she opened the already opened letter. She looked inside. "I counted them myself. There are fifty 1000 dollar bills in there."

Emily nearly dropped the envelope in shock.

"What?"

"The donation was made out in your name to be used for the clinic from a Mr. Tom Worley," Bill told her, with a smile.

Tom Worley? Bruce Wayne.

"I don't know what you said to him, but you obviously made a good impression," he added.

Emily still could not believe what Bruce Wayne had done. Giving a donation is one thing, but giving one anonymously in her name was another.

"It's amazing," she said, incredulously. "I really can't believe it."

2 nights later

He waited at the receiving door, rubbing his hands together to keep warm. It wouldn't be long before that his absence would be noticed. The clinic was once again a busy place. He really didn't want to wait longer than he had to, but for a deal of this magnitude, he stuck around. Finally, he showed up.

"Do you have it?"

The man nodded, handing the package to Crane. "I'll have more for you next week."

"Good, bring more next time," Crane replied, his eyes lighting up. "This stuff is selling like hot cakes."

"This new drug you're creating, I want in on it," the man said.

Crane smiled. "Fine, but it will cost you."

"That won't be a problem."

"Come into some money, did we?"

"You can say that."