Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by DC Comics, various publishers, and Warner Bros., Inc. Any other owners, licensees, or those legally attached to the Batman name, image, etc. of whom the author is unaware are included in this disclaimer although not mentioned by name. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Chapter 1 - Unthinkable

Barbara Gordon hurried the children into their sweatshirts and moved with them toward the front door. She grabbed her purse from the hall table, fished out her car keys and instructed the kids to wait on the steps while she locked the door. Finally ready to leave, Barbara got the kids settled in the car and backed out of the driveway.

"Mommy, where are we going?" Jimmy asked.

She stopped at the red light at the end of their street and looked at her son in the rearview mirror. "Daddy wanted us to go to another place; a place where there are other policemen waiting for us."

"Is Batman there?" the child was still captivated by the Batman.

"I don't know, honey," Barbara replied as she accelerated through the intersection and turned left in the direction of the address Ramirez had given her. "We'll find out when we get there."

"I want to go home," Maggie said quietly. At four, she wasn't very happy with disruptions in her routine. Being taken from her bed, dressed and put into the car definitely disrupted her routine.

"I know, darling," Barbara soothed. "We'll go home as soon as Daddy tells us we can. How's that?"

Maggie said nothing, hugging her stuffed rabbit to her tightly.

Barbara pulled into the parking lot of the address she had been given. Her first reaction was that there had to have been some kind of mistake. The building was still a bit too far away to be seen clearly and the glare from the street light behind her created a further distortion. She pushed the button to lower the window to ensure a clearer view and gently inched the car forward. When she had come close enough to the building to take a better look, she put the car in park. The street lights did not carry well to this area but in the twin beams of her headlights, Barbara felt a slight shiver at the scene before her. Bright yellow crime scene tape marked off the perimeter of the location. The once sturdy brick structure was merely a shell; some walls reduced to complete rubble while others still stood, menacing and blackened by the fire that had ravaged it. Barbara pressed the release button on the shift to put the car in reverse and leave when a metallic click sounded from just behind her left ear. She jumped slightly in surprise then turned in the direction of the sound. The sight that greeted her made her blood run cold. Harvey Dent, the left side of his face and head decimated by burns, held a handgun barely two inches from her skull.

"Mrs. Gordon, how nice of you to come," he rasped. "Why don't you take the children out of the car now and come with me?"

"No," she said. The gun was fully and cruelly pressed into the side of her head.

"I can't believe you'd risk the lives of your kids by refusing to comply with a simple request," Dent replied. "Let's go."

Barbara alighted from the car and opened the back door, scooping Maggie into her arms and gesturing to Jimmy to follow her. Maggie whimpered when she saw Dent standing there, point the gun at them and buried her face in her mother's neck. Jimmy came to stand quietly beside his mother. Dent looked at the boy closely, then gestured toward the dark, hulking form of the building. "After you, Mrs. Gordon," he said.

As they approached the building, Barbara's eyes darted back and forth, seeking some means of escape. Regrettably, there was none.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, stalling for time.

In response, she felt the hard nose of the gun press into the small of her back. "Move," Dent commanded.

They climbed a staircase that had once led to the bustling second floor of the warehouse. Now, that floor was a mere platform. A twisted steel pole rose up from the first floor and Dent pushed Barbara toward it. "Sit."

Barbara sat with her back against the pole and gathered her children close to her, arms wrapped around them protectively. A cell phone dropped into her lap, its weight startling her as it landed.

"Call him," Dent ordered standing over her.

"Whom?"

"Don't insult my intelligence. You know who I'm talking about. Your husband," Dent sneered. "Commissioner Gordon. Dial it. I'll tell you what to say."

Barbara dialed Jim's cell phone; he answered on the second ring.

"Gordon."

"Jim, we're in trouble," Barbara said.

"Barbara, now calm down," Jim said.

'He's got the kids!"

"Hello, Gordon," Dent reclaimed the phone.

"Dent," Jim breathed. "Where have you taken my family?"

"To the place where my family died," Dent said, his voice breaking slightly on the last word. "If I were you, I'd get over here."

"Let's see just how much of a priority the three of you are," Dent taunted.

He had his answer less than 30 minutes later as they heard the sound of footsteps rapidly climbing the stairs.

As Jim emerged onto the platform, Dent struck him sharply on the back of his neck and the Commissioner went down hard onto the floor. He rolled over onto his back and rubbed the back of his neck. As Barbara watched him and listened to the dialogue between her husband and the crazed former District Attorney, her heart fell. They were going to pay the price for Rachel Dawes' death.

"Who's the person you love most in the world, Gordon? Your wife?" Dent held the gun against Barbara's temple and she closed her eyes. She did not want to die, but she would do so if it meant protecting their children.

"No?" Dent's voice cut through her thoughts – and her heart. No? She felt the gun move from her temple and away from her. Barbara opened her eyes.

"We have a winner," Dent whispered, lifting Jimmy from her protective arm and taking him closer to the edge of what was left of the floor.

"No! Jim…make him stop!" Barbara heard her own voice cut through the night – desperate, bordering on hysteria. She looked at her husband. Tears stood out in his eyes and he reached out toward Dent in an appeal to let go of his son.

"You don't want to hurt the boy," Batman's hoarse growl came from the shadows and his form soon followed.

"It's not about what I want," the devastated man hissed. "It's about what's fair!" He shifted the gun and reached into his pocket, pulling out a silver coin.

Batman and Jim tried to explain how Rachel had come to die, stressing that they had decided to act, to minimize the Joker's influence; telling no one what was happening.

"Punish one of us," Batman said. "The boy is an innocent."

"Fine," Harvey said. "You first." He flipped the coin. "You lose," and he fired a single shot at Batman, who fell. Barbara covered Maggie's eyes and tried to soothe her.

"My turn," he placed the gun against his own temple then flipped his coin. Heads. "Looks like I live to fight another day, Gordon," he said, holding the other man's gaze while he lowered the weapon to Jimmy's head. His other hand grasped the boy's hair, keeping his head upright so Jim could clearly see the fear written there.

"Jim!" Barbara cried out.

"Tell him, Gordon. Tell your son it's going to be alright. Lie to him the way I lied," Dent ordered.

"It's going to be alright, son," Jim said gently, making his voice as even as he possibly could despite the tremors running through his body and the hot tears now streaming down his face. He thought he saw his son nod slightly, through his own tears.

"Harvey, I'm sorry about Rachel. That was my fault," Jim continued in the same soft voice, now tinged with desperation. "I'm to blame. But please, don't hurt the boy; if you have to punish someone, punish me."

Harvey tightened his hold on the small boy's hair, lifting it higher as he pushed the gun into his temple. "I'm about to."

An unexpected movement, a flash of black Kevlar and Harvey was hit broadside by the Batman. The force of the contact seemingly drove the trio over the side of the platform and Barbara cried out at the sight of Jimmy's blonde head disappearing from view.

Jim scrambled to his feet and rushed to the side as Barbara watched, crying helplessly. She could picture her son lying on the ground, crumpled, next to the fallen Knight and the Batman. She was stunned when Jim's voice pulled her away from the horrific mental image.

"Here, Barbara; take him. He's ok," Jim thrust Jimmy into her outstretched arm. "Are you and Maggie alright?" he peered at them both anxiously.

Barbara nodded.

"I've got to get down there. Stay here," Jim said, but the fact that he was already moving toward the staircase precluded any response from her.

Barbara had previously experienced the sensation of anxiety and grief turned to rage; Jim's recent staged death in an effort to capture the Joker was still sharp in her mind. She recognized those feelings now as she sat on the cold platform flooring with her children held tightly in her arms. His family had been put in mortal danger. His wife and children had been physically threatened and his son, in particular, had come very close to death. Now, in the aftermath, Jim had decided to leave them to check on the condition of the man who had endangered them tonight – as well as the condition of the man who had been endangering them for the better part of a year. Barbara felt her temper rise. They had heard the arrival of the back up police squad cars. The dogs were there. Jim could have stayed with his family – or at least have brought them down to a waiting car so they could be taken home.

Jimmy wriggled his way out of her arms and was standing where he could peer down at his father below. "Dad!" he was calling. "Dad, is the Batman ok?" Receiving no answer, the boy ran down the stairs, Barbara calling after him. He paid her no heed. Jimmy was enamored of the Batman and his father had always been his number one hero. There was no stopping him from his goal of reaching them both.

Barbara sighed and lifted Maggie's chin so she could see her face. The child's eyes were red-rimmed and still showed her fear in their depths. Barbara leaned down and kissed her. "Come on, sweetheart," she whispered, swallowing her anger. "We're going to find Jimmy and go back home. Ok?" Maggie nodded and gave her mother the ghost of a smile.

Barbara headed to the staircase and made her way down carefully, shifting Maggie to her hip and holding her tightly. When she stepped onto the scarred ground and walked further into what had been the parking area, she saw Jimmy standing with his father, looking off into the distance as the sound of sirens and barking dogs filled the air.

"Jimmy," she called and watched both figures turn toward her. Barbara saw Jimmy look up at his father then both hurried in her direction. Barbara felt her anger flare again and she worked hard to push it down. "Come along, Jimmy. We need to get back home; you and Maggie have been through enough and you need to get some rest."

Jim looked closely at her face. After ten years, he recognized her struggle against her own emotions. "Barbara?"

She walked over to their car, Jim walking alongside her. He opened the back door and took Maggie from her arms and settled her into her car seat, buckling her firmly in place.

"Daddy," the small girl whispered and Jim kissed her cheek tenderly, then the tip of her nose before straightening back up again and closing the door firmly. "Jimmy, get in the other side and buckle up, ok?" he called to his boy who was still craning his neck toward the street, undoubtedly trying to get a glimpse of the Batman. "Jimmy?" The boy turned when his father called his name a second time. "Ok, Daddy," he said, dutifully climbing into his seat beside his sister and clicking his seat belt in place.

"Why did you leave the house?" Jim grasped Barbara's elbow and led her toward the front of the vehicle: far enough away so the kids couldn't overhear them, but close enough that they could still see them in the back seat.

"I'm assuming you're going back to the station tonight," Barbara stated flatly.

"Barbara, there are things that must be seen to. Dent's dead. That's going to send some shockwaves through every part of this city – the criminal as well as the solid citizens. And, to add to the mix, the Batman has set himself up as the sacrificial lamb so Gotham can still have the positive image of Dent to hang onto. I have to be there," Jim's voice was almost pleading despite the steely resolve Barbara could see reflected in his blue eyes.

"Please know that I couldn't care less what the Batman has nobly sacrificed for us all. Despite the pedestal both you and your son have put him on, I consider him responsible for what's happened to us over the past ten days. That fiend – the Joker – came after us because he wanted to entice Batman to come out into the open. You fell once because of it and we damn near lost our son tonight – again because of Batman," Barbara whispered fiercely. "And then, as if all of that wasn't enough, you leave us in that godforsaken place to go down and check on the condition of Batman. Perhaps moving your family to a waiting squad car so they could go home might have occurred to you." Barbara was crying now, an occurrence that generally accompanied a great swell of anger. She turned away from him and fumbled with her door handle. Jim stepped toward her and reached down to open the door for her. Barbara slapped his hand away and finally managed to open the door. She got behind the wheel and pulled her seat belt into place, sitting for a moment before turning the key in the ignition. The engine turned over; Barbara pressed the button on the door to lower the window.

"When you get back to your office tonight, you might want to have a conversation with Anna Ramirez," she said, staring straight ahead. "Ask her why she called me with instructions – supposedly from you – to come to this place tonight." Barbara turned and looked into her husband's shocked face before putting the car in gear and driving off.

XXXXXXXX

Jim threw open the door to the temporary offices of Gotham's Major Crimes Unit. When it hit the wall with a sharp crack, he had the attention of every officer and detective in the squad room. The Commissioner paused, hand on his hip and scanned the room. Finally, his gaze alighted on the one person he sought. He walked slowly to where she was hunched in her chair. Standing next to her desk and without turning around, Jim called out, "Given what went down in this city tonight, I suspect you all have things to do!" Slowly, the buzz of conversation and clack-clack of keyboards rose to the previous levels.

Jim leaned down. "Let's talk," he muttered. Ramirez slowly turned her head and Jim caught sight of a dark bruise on her cheekbone. "After you," and he stood to one side, allowing the younger woman to pass in front of him. When they were out of earshot of the others, Jim said, "Interrogation room one."

Once Ramirez was seated, Jim walked up to her and held out his hand – palm up. "Shield and weapon, Detective," he said quietly and with authority.

"I don't suppose you're interested in hearing what happened," Ramirez said as she placed her badge and handgun into Jim's hand.

Removing the clip from the gun and placing everything on the windowsill behind him, Jim turned to face the detective. "If you are referring to the fact that my family was taken from our home tonight and sent to face Harvey Dent at the warehouse where Rachel Dawes died – no. As I was there, I think I have all the facts. What I would like to know is why. I thought I could trust you. I'd like to hear why I can't."

Ramirez dropped her head into her hands. "Falcone got to me when my mother first got sick. I couldn't afford the doctors and the hospitals on my salary. He made it possible for her to get the care she needed. They'd pay for everything, he said, as long as I fed him pieces of information, made evidence disappear every once in awhile. I kept telling myself that I'd only help them once or twice, just until my mother got back on her feet, but…"

"But it got easier to take their money," Jim supplied.

"NO! Not like that! You have to understand. My mother gave up everything for me. She worked three jobs to support us after my father left. She never had a thing for herself. I think she had one pair of new shoes in ten years; I always came first. When she got sick, there was no insurance – and no one but me to take care of her. I owed her something, Commissioner. She is my mother! I couldn't turn my back on her when she needed me the most!" Ramirez gave Jim a look that begged him to understand.

Jim watched the young woman closely. He understood her commitment to her mother; he respected it. What he neither understood nor respected was the route she had taken to provide for her mother.

"It's all over," he said quietly.

"What will happen to me now?" Ramirez spoke in an almost emotionless tone; she knew there was nothing left to say. Jim Gordon was incorruptible; he would not tolerate what she had done.

"Internal Affairs will have someone here shortly. I've already called them. You should probably get yourself a lawyer, Anna," he added softly. "And think about any information you might be able to share with IAD that might help you…and us."

Gordon gathered up her weapon and badge and headed toward the door. He never spoke to her again, simply pulling the door closed softly behind him.

XXXXXXXX

Jim pulled his car into their driveway and cut the engine. It was well after 2:30 am and the house was dark. Wearily, Jim got out of his car locked it and walked up the steps to his door. A movement to the right of his doorway caught his attention and he drew his gun and turned in that direction.

"Rough night," the raspy voice commented, its owner stepping into the dim light.

Jim replaced the safety on his weapon and returned it to his shoulder holster. "In many ways, yes," he replied, adding, "You know, moves like that one will get you killed one day."

"Have you decided what you're going to do?"

Jim sighed. "Denounce you publicly to preserve Dent's image, isn't that what you wanted me to do?"

"Gotham needs him, even if it's only his past image and reputation," the Batman said quietly. "I'm expendable."

Jim nodded. "But needed, as well. Our jobs will be harder without you out in the open."

"I can still help you behind the scenes," Batman said. "I won't desert this city – not again."

"I believe you," Jim said.

"You should get inside to your family," Batman said – an uncharacteristic comment for him to make.

Jim thought for a moment, and then turned toward the shadows where Batman had stood. He was gone. Jim sighed. Appear. Disappear. At least that was consistent, although 'disappear' was likely to be the more prominent activity for the foreseeable future.

Jim turned back to the door and fit his key into the door lock. The house was silent as he made his way quietly down the hallway and made the turn toward the kids' rooms first.

Jimmy was lying on his side, his hand tucked under his cheek. Jim knelt down next to the child's bed and brushed his fingers over his soft cheek. He was reminded of the night he returned home after staging his death. He had come to his son's room that night as well.

Jimmy's eyes opened and he blinked sleepily a couple of times as his father's face swam into focus.

"Daddy? Are you ok?" Jimmy asked, his face concerned.

"Shh," Jim said, continuing to stroke his cheek. "I'm just fine. I wanted to make sure that you were ok, too."

The boy nodded. "I'm ok. It was scary tonight," he added, his face flushing.

Jim felt his chest constrict a bit at the boy's confession. "It was," he agreed.

"Were you scared?" Jimmy asked his eyes wide.

Jim nodded. "Yes, I was scared," he confirmed. "Everything I hold most precious was in danger. I was afraid that I would lose you all."

"But you didn't," Jimmy said.

"No, I didn't," Jim agreed. "And I'm very grateful. I love you, son."

Jimmy smiled. "I love you, too, Daddy. Are you going back to work now?"

Inwardly, Jim winced. He knew how much time he spent away from his family and it bothered him tremendously. The reason for his absence, however, was significant. By working long hours, he was doing everything he knew to keep them safe.

"I'm sorry I woke you up," he whispered. "You should get back to sleep. It's very late."

"But tomorrow's Saturday. No school," Jimmy said, smiling. "Can we do something? You and me?"

"What about Mommy and Maggie?" Jim asked. "Shouldn't we include them?"

"Maybe later. Maybe first you and I could so something," Jimmy insisted.

Jim thought for a moment. "How about breakfast? We'll get up before the girls do and I'll take you down to Gotham Diner for blueberry pancakes. Deal?"

Jimmy's face lit up and his grin was huge. "Deal!"

Jim reached down and hugged the boy. "I love you," he said sincerely. "Get some sleep."

"Love you, too," Jimmy told him. "'night, Daddy."

"Goodnight, son," Jim rose and left the room.

Maggie was curled up in a ball, pillow scrunched up against her headboard and all the covers kicked to the foot of the bed. Jim smiled. He recalled one night last year when the little girl had crawled into bed with her parents after what she solemnly described as a "nightscare". Jim was black and blue the next morning after the "kickboxing" match he experienced with his daughter. Apparently, in the absence of his shins, Maggie's bedclothes took the abuse.

He knelt next to her bed in much the same manner as he had with Jimmy. He straightened her covers and gently settled her back on her pillow, which he duly fluffed before she put her head down. Jim leaned forward and kissed her cheek and chuckled when she sleepily brought her little hand up and scratched at where his moustache had just been.

"Tickles," she murmured, opening her blue eyes and blinking at her father.

"Don't you like it when Daddy kisses you?" Jim asked, smiling.

"Moostash tickles," she said, patting his cheek absently as her eyes, so like his own, were beginning to droop again.

"I love you, Maggie-mine," Jim whispered, using the nickname he'd given her the day she was born.

"Love you, Daddy," she yawned and fell back into a deep sleep once more. Jim shook his head. Truly, wild horses could not drag his daughter back from sleep.

He rose, smiling as he caught sight of the snowman night light. She refused to allow anyone to replace it and it always made him feel warm inside to think of it.

He walked quietly down to the opposite end of the hallway and his own bedroom. Once there, he crossed into the bathroom, washed and brushed his teeth before returning to his darkened bedroom and undressing quietly. Removing his glasses and setting them on his bedside table, Jim settled under the covers and turned toward Barbara. Her back was to him, but he still spooned up against her back, sliding his arm over hers where it rested against her stomach. He placed a soft kiss on one shoulder where the strap of her nightgown had slipped down.

"Are you awake?" he asked softly. Receiving no answer, he sighed. "Ok. Listen, I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry about tonight. I could have done it better and I'm sorry if you thought you weren't as important as the job was. I love you; I love the kids…and, I'm sorry." Still no response. Perhaps she really was asleep.

Jim settled down against his pillow and closed his eyes. Just as he was dropping off, he felt Barbara shift against him, turning to face him and settling as close to him as she could. In response, Jim wrapped his arms around her tightly and kissed her hair. "Good night," he whispered.

Soon, the only sound in the room was their even breathing.