Title: GOTHAM: Hidden Identities by Annie T

Rating: PG to PG-13

Relationship: 'Chruce' with Batman/Superman/Clark Kent/Lois Lane and Justice League references

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Smallville/The Batman Movies/The Superman Movies or DC Comics - all just for fun!!!

Summary: A companion piece for METROPOLIS: New Beginnings showing the relationship between Bruce Wayne and Chloe Sullivan (some overlaps)

After providing evidence to help convict Lex Luthor for crimes against humanity, Chloe Sullivan is placed in the Witness Protection Program. Leaving what the Justice League deemed to be an unsafe identity she has been relocated by them to Gotham City. Story set post Smallville Season Seven.

CHAPTER ONE.

Gotham Gazette City Room – Afternoon:

At Gotham city's leading daily tabloid, copy boys rushed to and fro while reporters pounded out articles on computer terminals. Mark Knox sauntered in, a sheath of typed pages in his hand as he paused at a Cartoonist's drawing table.

"What have you got for me, Jerry?"

Jerry held up a cartoon: a caricature of a human bat, with an awful, fanged rodent's face, wearing a business suit. The caption at the top read: "HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN?"

Knox nodded in approval, "Nice, but... maybe a little more gore on the fangs, huh? Make him more evil. He's a wanted felon."

He patted Jerry on the shoulder and moved towards his desk, stopping in his tracks. Propped up on the desk were a pair of shapely legs; the legs - exceptionally nice ones in his opinion - attached to a woman leaning back in his swivel chair, apparently taking a nap - her face obscured by a hat.

Knox smiled, "Well, well... the return of Vicki Vale..."

The hat was tipped back with one manicured fingernail and a familiar dazzling smile lit up the room as she threw the hat at him and shook her long blond hair loose.

"How'd you know it was me?"

"Honey - I would know any randomly selected square inch of Vicki Vale if I had a good enough hint. I'm a reporter - willing to investigate you any time you're ready..." He waggled his brows meaningfully.

She rolled her eyes. So he pointed at the oversized camera bag on his desk. Large, luminous green eyes looked at it, reading the monogrammed 'V.V.' before she looked back at him and stuck out her tongue.

Knox laughed, perching on the edge of his desk, then frowning at her with mock severity, "Where the hell have you been?"

"A nice, restful vacation." She reached into the camera bag and pulled out a stack of glossy 8x10's: combat photos from some unspecified war-torn corner of the world.

Knox leafed through them, impressed, "Got words to go with these?"

"One or two."

"You'll get a weekend special outta this if we get it past the old man. God, a girl could get hurt doing this."

"I do get hurt." She unbuttoned her sleeve, rolling it back to show a long fresh scar on the inside of her arm.

Knox winced, "Got any more of those anywhere else?"

"Nothing I'm at liberty to reveal here." She winked, then looked around the large room, "So what's new and hot in Gotham City?"

"We still got a fugitive six-foot bat that swoops out of the night and preys on evildoers."

She laughed again, the sound like musical notes in the air, "Evildoers, huh? Big or small?"

"Small so far. I mean - they don't allow bats in boardrooms, do they?"

"Speaking of which..." She lifted her high heels off his desk and sat upright in the chair, "I hear the notorious Bruce Wayne is throwing a big do for the new wing of the museum next weekend."

Knox nodded, "Yep. Hottest ticket in town."

"Mmm," She quirked finely arched brows, "I heard that."

When she pursed her lips and looked at him with sparkling eyes, Knox froze. She had that look, "Wa-a-it. Vick. You're not saying -"

She reached into her camera bag and calmly handed over an embossed invitation, making Knox all but pant with excitement, "Aw, Vicki. Vicki! Tell me you don't have a date..."

Fluttering long eyelashes, she shook her head. So Knox grabbed her face, leaned in and planted a kiss on her forehead, nearly knocking her out of the swivel chair, "Vicki, baby, I love you, I've always loved you. Will you marry me?"

Vicki carefully straightened her clothes, "Well done – you lasted a whole ten minutes today. But the answers still no."

Gotham Gazette City Room - Late Evening.

It wasn't the first time she'd worked late with only the occasional shuffle of the cleaning crews to let her know she wasn't alone in the building. And it wasn't that she was overly edgy, despite the number of times she still found herself looking over her shoulder. But there was just, something, that brought her attention from the computer screen long enough to notice when a shadow moved in her peripheral vision.

Automatically her spine straightened a little, her hand sliding from the keyboard to the top drawer of her desk while she looked from side to side without moving her head to indicate she knew she wasn't alone. Stay calm. Remember you're in the best position. That was one of the comforts of having her desk facing the only entrance and her back to the wall. But it also meant she had to be ready, just in case she had to get to the exit – fast. So she rolled her chair back at the same as she slid the drawer open, covering the sound with a cough as her fingertips touched the cold metal of the gun she always kept close by.

He stepped out of the shadows, a deep voice she hadn't heard in what felt like a lifetime rumbling out a low greeting, "I should have known I'd find you at a newspaper somewhere. Hiding in plain sight, huh?"

Her breath caught, "Clark?"

The light from her desk lamp illuminated his features as he stepped closer, a small smile on his mouth and sparkling in his eyes, "She remembers."

The answering smile was immediate, and she was out of the chair and flinging herself into his arms before the sound of his low chuckle even reached her ears, "Oh my god - I can't believe you're here!"

"Careful now – squeeze me any tighter and you might leave a bruise."

Leaning back she smacked a broad shoulder, "As if!"

Setting her at arms length Clark raised his dark brows, "Look at you. Life in Gotham City obviously suits you."

She tilted her head to one side and rolled her eyes, "What can I say? I guess I just found my niche. If I'd known all it would take was a secret identity then I'd have followed your lead a lot sooner."

His expression changed, taking on that 'weight of the world/responsible for everything' look she remembered all too well from when she'd known him before, "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you Chloe. What you did –"

"Needed done," She stepped forwards again and squeezed his forearms, "I'm a big girl now Smallville – I can look out for myself. So you can stop that. You always did guilt better than anyone else on the planet."

The smile reappeared, "Your cousin has been rubbing off on you some in the nick name department, hasn't she?"

Chloe grinned before moving back to her desk, talking along the way, "Lois and my new life combined. It's tough not getting to see her anymore though. I miss her being around."

"You still talk?"

"We have a code," She threw him a wink as she sat down on the edge of the desk, "Just don't go telling anyone at the Witness Protection Program. I'm quite happy where I am. So – tell me all about Clark Kent's latest adventures – where've you been for the last five years? Enrolled a new side-kick yet?"

Clark shook his head, folding his arms across his broad chest, "No new side-kick, you'd be tough to replace. I've traveled some – finished up my training – and now I'm headed back to Metropolis. I just wanted to check in and see how you were."

"You finished your training? Wow – what was that like?"

"Interesting."

"I'll bet."

When he wasn't any more forthcoming Chloe crossed her legs and studied him for a moment, finding it interesting he'd chosen to go back to the city rather than the small town they'd grown up in, "Do you know what you're going to do in Metropolis?"

"I have a job offer," His wide mouth twitched at the edges, "At the Planet."

Chloe's eye's widened, "You're kidding me."

"Nope. Start Monday. I sent them some pieces from my travels and they liked what they saw. It's pretty easy to get the inside story on disasters and accidents if you're on the scene when they happen."

"Well, well, finally a hidden bonus to being a superhero, huh?"

"So it would seem. And the way I see it – it's easier to keep track of what's going on if I'm at the center of it all, so The Planet's ideal," He unfolded his arms and moved forwards until he was close enough to turn and sit on the desk beside her, his voice lowering, "You want me to give a message to Lois?"

Chloe laughed softly, nudging his shoulder with her own, "And how would you do that when you're not supposed to know where I am, genius?"

"Good point."

"Does she know you're back?"

"No."

"She was pretty mad at you for a while."

Clark smiled, his chin dropping, "No change there then," He glanced sideways at her, "It'll be like the old days."

"We've all come a long way from the old days."

"Yes, we have," And the hint of regret in his voice was all too evident.

So Chloe nudged his shoulder again, her voice soft, "We all end up where we're s'posed to be in the end."

"I like to hope so."

The doors at the end of the hall swung open, a cleaning trolley rattling down the tiled floor while they sat in silence waiting for it to pass; a million unspoken words hanging heavy in the air between them until Clark took a deep breath,

"Are you happy Chloe?"

She was touched that he needed to know and comforted by the fact that even though so much had happened since they'd been friends before it still felt like it had been weeks rather than years since they'd last talked. It was a sign of true friendship, wasn't it?

"You know something? I am. I might not get to write the name Chloe Sullivan in my by-lines these days but I'm still exactly where I always wanted to be," She waved a hand at the room, "Here in a great newspaper – sniffing out the great stories… It's not The Planet I dreamed of but its pretty close. I could do with a little less of a high-maintenance image but I kinda love the fact that an old friend thinks I look glamorous nowadays…"

Clark nodded, aiming another smile her way, "I'm glad. And now I'm back I'll try and fly in as often as I can, okay?"

"In the literal sense or via traditional methods?"

"Nah - I got that one down pat now."

"Well I'm very glad to hear it 'cos some of those trial sessions?" She shuddered, "Not so pretty to watch. Graceful wasn't exactly your thing at the beginning."

He laughed, "No it certainly wasn't."

Chloe watched as he pushed up onto his feet, tilting her head back to look up into his face as he studied her with affection shining in his eyes. She'd missed her friend. It felt good to have him back – and to think he could come to her again if he needed help with something. She'd missed that too. Only now she had a life of her own as well – she wouldn't be putting her career on hold while she spent time helping him research meteor freaks or escaped Zoner's or… well… the list could go on and on…

"Don't be a stranger."

"I won't," He rocked forwards onto the balls of his feet and dropped his chin to look at her with a quirk of his eyebrows, "Watchtower."

Ah, so that was how he'd found her. She pursed her lips and nodded, "Oliver finally signed you up then I take it."

"Uh-huh."

She nodded again, "Bout time too. You always were the last one to the party. Do we still get to call you Boy Scout?"

The question raised another low chuckle of laughter as he rocked back onto his heels, "No, that's gotta go. If I have any new ideas you'll be the first to know."

"I better be. Can't have Lois steal the scoop on me and you know no-one bestows a superhero title better than lil ole me."

"If it was left to Lois we'd still have the Green Arrow Bandit, so I'll just leave it in your capable hands," He took another deep breath and looked her straight in the eye, "If you need me – for anything - just yell, okay?"

Chloe smiled a broad smile, well aware he meant literally, "I have an army of superhero's looking out for me these days - trust me. You just keep an eye on my cousin for me – she's never out of trouble."

"I can believe that."

"She won't make it easy for you."

"I can believe that too."

"And you'll have a hard time convincing her you'll make much of a reporter when she's only ever known you as a farm boy."

The smile he gave her indicated he had an ace somewhere up his sleeve, "Well like you said – we've all come a long way since the old days."

Chloe's eyes narrowed; every fiber of the reporter in her sensing something big was on its way. But before she could ask the question he leaned in and placed a kiss on her cheek, his voice low and edged with sincerity,

"It's good to see you Chloe Sullivan."

"You too Clark Kent," She waited until he was almost at the door before she added, "And by the way – for future reference - it's Vicki."

He turned, "Vicki?"

Yes, they'd come a long way alright. Something told Chloe that Clark Kent was about to unleash a new name into the annals of Superhero history. And thanks to the Witness Protection Program she had a new name of her own – one he needed to start using if he wanted to make sure Lex Luthor's long reaching hand couldn't touch her again,

"My name - it's Vicki – Vicki Vale. Try and remember?"

"I'll do my best."

And just like that he was gone – the associated swift displacement of air blowing her long blond hair back from her cheeks. She shook her head, a smile on her lips,

"That just never gets boring…"

Fleugelheim Museum – Night (One Week Later):

"... with the continued support of Wayne Industries naturally we hope to see..."

Bruce Wayne's attention had long since waned from the continuing conversation between a State Senator, the Mayor and the varying dignitaries who surrounded him. He remained aware of what they were saying but they didn't need his full attention for him to follow the conversation. And part of the ruse of Billionaire Playboy was to assume an air of boredom; more interested in the party itself and the never-ending supply of champagne flutes that were brought by on round silver platters...

Draining his glass he nonchalantly reached out an arm to set it on a tray and replace it with another as he smiled at the young waitress. He even remembered to turn his head and admire her curved figure as she walked away. But she was just another face in a crowd he didn't want to be part of. The 'boredom' part of the ruse becoming easier with each passing day.

Lifting the new glass to his mouth he glanced out at the crowd. And that was when he got his first glimpse of her. In a sea of black and white it took a swinging beam of light to pick up the gold in her hair. Just her hair. He couldn't see her face because a curtain of loose curls obscured her profile from him. Then the beam of light roved away, the crowd rolled into a different position like a wave and she disappeared like a ghost; making him turn his head to search for her again. Where -?

There. This time the curtain of curls shifting like molten gold as she looked over her shoulder and long, darkened lashes lifted – locking her gaze with his for a brief, mesmerizing moment. Then she turned away, the crowd shifted. And she was gone again.

"Excuse me gentlemen." Bruce inclined his head, "Ladies..."

She appeared and disappeared in and out of the crowd as he tried to get through it. Each glimpse more tempting than the last until suddenly he was left in the center of the crowd, turning a circle as he tried to find her again. Where had she gone? Why was she so fascinating to him? Who was she? It was the first time in a very long time he'd been so fascinated by a woman. But now he needed to see her so he could place her and make her... human...less ghost-like...

Like any other woman in the room.

But she was gone. So after a while he headed for the solitude of an outside balcony where the city was laid out in front of him; his eyes narrowing as he viewed the darkened monoliths of the buildings and the shadows where unknown evils lurked and waited for the nemesis who would bring them out into the open. Too quiet. It had been too quiet for too long. And when he lifted his chin and looked to the heavy skies as gray clouds slid across a full moon he felt an impending sense of something momentous coming. Soon. More than likely a foe who would bring chaos on his city.

Her expensive perfume came to him on the night air. And when he turned she was at the other end of the full length balcony, her fine boned hands on the stone wall as the same night air lifted her hair from her profile and whispered it across her naked back.

A small, almost knowing smile curled her lips and then she turned away into the shadows.

It brought him a step closer, "A daring choice."

She looked over her shoulder, "Standing on a balcony?"

"Your dress," Another step closer, "This is a Black and White Ball."

And her dress was as silvery gray as the moonlight.

Lifting her chin she turned on dangerously high heels, "Not everything is black and white Mister Wayne. There are always gray areas in between. I simply choose to explore them."

That she knew who he was was no great surprise. Everyone knew the Bruce Wayne he chose to show to the outside world. But now he was even more intrigued than before, "You have me at a disadvantage Miss..."

"Oh I doubt very much anyone ever has you at a disadvantage Mister Wayne." A step forwards brought her out of the shadows and into the moonlight; a luminous gaze fixed on his as long dark lashes blinked, "I think there's more to you than meets the eye."

Bruce's eyes narrowed at her words as he took a mental snapshot of her features. She was delicate – petite – almost fragile, and had an air of purity completely at odds with the way she was dressed. Something was out of place. He could sense it.

Falling into character he held his arms out to his sides, bowed and grinned broadly, "Feel free to come over and find out..."

A fleeting smile touched her lips. Then she reached into her clutch and produced a small card that she held between her thumb and forefinger, "I'd prefer to find out when you're sober and lucid. You can give me a call when you're ready to set up a meeting. During business hours..."

Straightening, he accepted the card, his mouth pursed in resignation as he read what it said. Great. Just what he needed. Someone else interested in splashing the elusive Bruce Wayne across the pages of a tabloid. And at a time when his alter ego was being hunted throughout the city. There would be no meeting with this woman. No matter how beautiful or intriguing she was.

"Not everyone approaches an interview with an angle Mister Wayne," As if she'd somehow read his mind, she stepped closer and lifted her chin to look up at him with heavy lashes; her voice low and seductive, "Some of us prefer to listen to what a person has to say before we place their words in print. It's called journalistic integrity. A little old fashioned; granted. But personally I find there are less law-suits that way, don't you?"

Bruce studied her warily with hooded eyes.

But before he could say anything she shot him a sparkle eyed smile that lit her up from inside in a way he couldn't remember ever seeing before. It was mesmerizing. And that was before she looked over his face and turned on her heel, "Goodnight Mister Wayne."

"Miss Vale?"

She turned in the shadows, "Yes?"

"I have a public relations department that will be more than happy to give you what you need. I'm quite sure you're aware of that."

Not that he could see it clearly but he was sure she was smiling. He could almost hear it in her voice, "Ahh... but how can anyone get to know you better with a standard press release? I'm much more thorough than that Mister Wayne. And I get a great deal of pleasure out of my work that way..."

Holding her card between thumb and forefinger the way she had, he lifted it in front of his body, turned it, and then flicked it into the wind; watching her as it disappeared over the balcony, "Put the words getting to know me better and pleasure in the one sentence Miss Vale and there's no need for it to be an interview when it can be something entirely more enjoyable..."

There was a moment of silence and Bruce could almost feel the ripple of anger as it washed over him. But he merely got a low, "Good night Mister Wayne."

The even click of her heels took her to the glass doors; her hair becoming more golden the closer she got to the light. In darkness she was moonlight, in light she was sunshine. Bruce lifted a brow at the random thought. Then he turned away and looked out over what he could see of the city, his chin lifting as he breathed a deep breath of heavy, smog-filled air.

His gaze had drifted higher to watch as clouds pushed past the full moon when the words came to his mind; 'Now hidden in cloud, and now revealed. As if this phantom, full of pain, were by the crumbling walls concealed. And at the windows seen again.'

Bruce had no idea why the poem came to him the way it did. But it made him shake his head as he poured the contents of his glass into a potted plant and turned to go back to the party. One more round of the room and he could leave. There was still a long night ahead of him...

Wayne Manor – Late Afternoon (four days later):

Knox and Vicki were taking an unauthorized tour of the house, wandering through rooms decorated in divergent motifs, studying an astounding collection of artworks and antiques from every corner of the world.

"My question is, where does one man get all this junk?"

Vicki took in her surroundings, disappointed by the lack of personal items. But then considering the mansion had only recently had building work completed after the major fire that had destroyed it a few years earlier she supposed it wasn't really surprising. Unlike their little impromptu visit. She doubted Bruce Wayne would be pleased to see them. But there was no way in hell she was letting go of this story, not having met the man in person. There was just something about him. And she wanted to know what it was.

She stopped briefly in front of a painting, "All over the world. They say he spends most of the year overseas - until a few years ago, anyway. He'd dropped off the map for a long time. Rumor was he was dead."

Continuing down the wide hallway they turned into an open doorway and Knox froze, "Holy crap..." Recovering, he walked into the library goggle-eyed, "... We found the arsenal. Fetish much?"

One wall was lined floor to the high ceiling with leather-bound volumes. On the other walls hung weapons; halberds, maces, blowguns, bolas, thugee ropes and samurai swords - every arcane implement of death the human mind had ever devised. Vicki studied it all with narrowed eyes. Even the Luthors had never been as openly threatening. It was like walking into some kind of lair – everything barring the books sending out the clear signal of 'beware' more clearly than a rabid guard-dog could have done.

Knox let out a low whistle, "This guy just got interesting. What else do you know?"

"Just what I've heard. Rich. Reclusive. Old money and lots of it." She walked further into the room, her fingertips itching to reach for her camera.

"Likes to kill things?"

"Women apparently find him magnetic," Vicki smiled briefly at him.

Knox smirked back, "I bet they like him for his big charity balls."

She chuckled, "That, and the sweet smell of a few billion bucks."

"Well, you know me. The more they've got, the less they're worth." He leaned his head back and looked around the room again while Vicky read some of the spines of the books; Tolstoy, Kerouac, Homer, Shakespeare and he added, "In which case this guy must be the most worthless man in America."

A deep, calm voice interrupted their conversation, "Why not the world?"

They both turned round to look at the impassive face of Bruce Wayne. On second viewing Vicki supposed she could understand why women found him attractive, from a purely aesthetic point of view; tall, athletic, intensely handsome...

Knox sighed, "I assume in my usual charming manner I've just insulted the host." He stepped forwards and extended a hand, "Mark Knox."

Bruce ignored the hand and stepped around him, "I've read your work. I quite like it."

Knox dropped his arm and turned on his heel to watch as the taller man prowled the edge of the room, "Great. Give me a grant."

"I might consider it if you introduce me to Miss Vale." He stopped in front of her.

As her gaze rose to meet his, Knox stepped towards them, "This is Miss Vale."

He looked from one of them to the other, fully aware that they'd already met; "That felt redundant."

Bruce ignored him, "You're just back from Corto Maltese I believe. I saw your combat photos. Quite a departure for you."

"That's intriguing." Her chin lifted, "They haven't been published yet."

Bruce smiled a minute smile and skipped the implied question, "You have an extraordinary eye."

Territorial instincts apparently aroused, Knox piped up with; "Some people think she has two."

Vicki shot him a brief sidelong glance before returning her attention to the man towering over her, "Don't mind my friend. He's a little nervous."

"Have you always been a photographer Miss Vale?"

She smiled smoothly, completely unruffled, "An old boyfriend passed on a few skills. When it added an extra dimension to my work and allowed me more freedom of movement I explored it further."

"Indeed. There's a great deal to be said for additional skills, freedom of movement and exploration..." Bruce blinked lazily as he continued staring at her.

Knox, briefly chastened by Vicki's silent recrimination, called off the dogs and sized up his competition instead. Bruce Wayne was charming all right, but there was something formal, maybe even calculating about it – he could be reading his clever remarks off cue cards. It was almost as though he was an actor doing a brilliant imitation of charm. A man who thinks three moves ahead, Knox figured. And he didn't like him one little bit. But Vicki – who was used to seeing male charm turned on and off at will – didn't seem to mind at all. She even looked like she was enjoying the battle of wills. It was like watching some kind of weird mating ritual.

Knox looked around for something to make a comment on; his gaze falling on a nearby suit of armor, "Nice armor."

"It's Japanese." Bruce said without breaking eye contact to see which one Knox was referring to.

"How do you know?"

"Because I bought it in Japan."

Vicki's lips quirked, then she dropped her chin and glanced around the room, "This is an amazing house. I'd love to photograph it sometime."

"I don't seek publicity Miss Vale." He waited for her to look at him again, "Will you be staying in Gotham for a while?"

"As far as I know." Her chin lifted again.

"Then perhaps we'll run into each other again." He leaned a little towards her, his voice lowering, "But in future perhaps you'll consider making an appointment before visiting my home. I have a penthouse in the City I find more useful for meetings..."

Knox saw an older man appear in the doorway as Bruce leaned back and added; "Alfred will see you out."

With that he did a sharp one-eighty and left the room on long, confident strides. His butler nodded and extended an arm, "If you'll follow me Sir, Miss..."

Knox stepped over to Vicki's side as they hung back enough to talk in hushed tones, "I know the rich are different, but that guy is real different."

Vicki, staring off in the direction Bruce had taken, didn't seem to hear him.

So he clicked his fingers in front of her face, "Hello? Vicki?"

"Oh. Sorry." She blinked up at him, "I was thinking."

"What were you thinking?"

"That it's as well this place has high ceilings and wide doors to make room for an ego the size of a small country in Europe." She smiled sweetly and batted her long lashes.

"Well, he must like the way he looks. He's got mirrors everywhere." Knox nodded as they stopped in front of an enormous wall mirror, at least eight feet wide and running from floor to ceiling, "I dub thee Bruce Vain."

Vicki groaned at the dumb pun and elbowed him in the ribs, "Don't underestimate him. I've met his kind before. Still waters don't just run deep – they have a tendency to be murky..."

Her gaze slid around the frame of the mirror, then she leaned in closer; holding her breath so she didn't create a fog while she smoothed her lipstick with the tip of her forefinger. Then she winked at her reflection, smiled a small smile, and leaned back, "Let's go before we get lost in this maze."

Behind the mirror, recording everything that happened, was a small, silent, state-of-the-art surveillance camera. Underneath the mansion Bruce watched the playback several times, his elbows resting on the arms of his chair and his long fingers tented; index fingers resting against his upper lip. The wink. The wink was what narrowed his eyes in thought. If he didn't know better -

One of the other monitors in a vast bank captured his attention. From his control center he not only monitored everything happening in and around the house, he was also tapped into world-wide news reports, security feeds in the city and cameras he had strategically placed in offices of interest.

The screen he zeroed in on showed people moving backwards at speed. Bruce hit a button on the panel in front of him and watched as Chief Gordon talked to a uniformed officer, "... anonymous tip. Tonight. The Ace Chemical Company."

Gordon looked agitated, "Why wasn't I told about this? Who's in charge of the -"

"Lt. Eckhardt, sir."

And suddenly Gordon was grabbing for his coat.

Bruce reached up and began unbuttoning his shirt, his gaze flickering briefly to the replay of Vicki Vale's wink again. He wasn't done with her. Maybe a 'date' was in order...

Ace Chemical Co. Parking Lot – Night:

Unmarked Police cars pulled into the lot, headlights off. Eckhardt circulated among his armed SWAT team, handing out Xeroxed copies of a photograph.

"Shoot to kill."

In an indoor hallway two hoods ran down a tiled corridor in the office section of the complex. They were almost at the end of the hall when a dark shadow stepped into their path. It stood there, motionless, then extended long arms – like giant wings. One millisecond later, the shocked hoods were racing back in the opposite direction as their pursuer flung a handful of dark ball bearings across the tiled floor. The first man tumbled to the floor and landed hard, losing his breath; the second rolled and pulled a gun.

There was a vibration in the air and the man found his gun hand pinned to the wall by the prongs of a bat shaped piece of metal.

Batman walked silently towards them, calm and businesslike; taking his time. He grabbed a handful of the man on his knees hair, lifted his head and kneed him in the face – knocking him out. Then he turned to the terrified man trying to free his arm from the wall. One well-placed punch and he slumped against the wall - unconscious.

There was the sound of running footsteps downstairs, random switches being thrown to create a diversion. With every switch thrown, another gigantic machine roared to life; centrifuges spun, huge polymer extruder's spat out thick strands of plastic gunk, overhead chemical tanks rotated into place over giant basins...

The man downstairs saw a squad of cops on his tail, moving from machine to machine, keeping covered. So he fired off a few rounds at them and began running again.

Then two more men appeared on the elevated walkways, firing off rounds from machine guns, keeping down, avoiding police fire. One of them started up a vertical ladder leading to the next catwalk up but Batman plunged past on the end of a fine line – a gloved hand snatching at the man's jacket as he climbed upwards – then yanking him off the ladder. They dropped simultaneously to the lower catwalk.

The man gaped, leveling his weapon at Batman who simply stood his ground, holding onto the rails of the catwalk for support. A bullet hit him squarely in the chest. But he didn't fall. So the man turned and scrambled away, Batman flinging one arm forward and planting a barbed hook in the man's leg. He cried out in pain. And it was enough to grab the attention of the cops below.

"Look! Up there! Are you seein' this?"

Gordon ran into view, glanced up, looked around him, then glanced up again, "It's him."

Another man was charging Batman from behind. But without even turning Batman raised an elbow, hit him in the face, and dropped him. While he tried to scramble back to his feet, believing they had the advantage with one of them on either side; Batman took a small steel club from his belt, snapped his wrist, whipping it once through the air. It telescoped out into a four foot staff. Like a drum majorette from hell, he whirled the staff as the two hooded men tried to converge on him. One took a debilitating jab under the jaw. Then Batman spun on his booted heels and slammed the end of the staff into the other's back - knocking him off the catwalk to the factory floor below...

The lone man downstairs spotted a possible out. He hit a button on the wall and heavy steel doors lifted to reveal a line of cargo trucks in the parking lot outside. But beyond the trucks was an army of cops waiting for him to make his move. No go. So he turned. Behind him were other cops - the inside team - rushing at him in full riot gear.

Looking frantically around, he ducked behind a forklift and darted into the adjacent room. Then while sprinting, he fired four shots at the metal chemical tanks on the wall. Immediately toxic chemicals began to gush onto the floor in streams that ran together and began to smoke and sizzle; an acrid mist rising from the ground. But even though the cops were right behind him he couldn't resist taking one last pot-shot at another tank.

The explosion knocked him off his feet.

Cops looked on in surprise as a river of chemicals coursed out into the main refinery. A second later, they went up in flames and a wall of fire bisected the factory floor. The man they were chasing was back on his feet behind the spreading wall of flame but the cops couldn't see him. Ducking behind a huge machine, he hit a switch and sluice gates opened. Chemical sludge began to churn, a large hole in the wall appearing as a gate opened onto the East River. The man smiled. Every chemical waste dump had a back door.

Up on the catwalk, Batman had the perfect view. If the man below could sprint through the flames without getting shot, he would make it to the river. So Batman hooked a rope to another bat-shaped piece of lightweight titanium and tossed it skilfully at a catwalk across the floor.

The man geared himself up, rocking back and forth on his feet. Then he bolted, bursting through the wall of fire - but just as he did -

Batman leaped off the catwalk and swung down toward him - his foot caught a roll of plastic, one of several standing upright on the floor – the roll dropped into the man's path; effectively blocking his exit. And an instant later, Batman landed on top of him, wrapping an arm around his throat and lifting his free hand. Drug tipped talons appeared from the wrist of his black glove, but before he could paralyze the man...

"HOLD IT!"

In all the chaos, another hooded man had managed to circle back behind the heavy machinery. And now he had a gun pointed directly at Chief Gordon's head...

"Let him go or I'll do it."

Batman released his captive and stood back. With plenty of time to himself the man chuckled, strolled across the floor to a ladder mounted on the back wall, and began to climb toward the catwalks. All the action stopped while he climbed. Batman didn't move. The cops didn't move. The man holding Gordon stood still, sweating, his gun hand shaking as he waited for his friend to climb safely out of shooting range.

Batman glanced at each of them in turn without moving; his gaze ending up on Lt. Eckhardt's pig-like eyes as they glistened. After a long moment of indecision his hand dropped to his side. He'd been half-tempted to pull a gun and get Gordon killed, hadn't he? Batman looked sharply upwards again.

At a crouch, the man above them groped his way along the rail of the catwalk. He reached a paneled glass window propped open by a supporting rod but it had to be a forty-foot drop to the swirling black currents of the East River outside. Was he prepared to risk it for his freedom? Apparently so. He was about to climb out when he hesitated, looked down at his feet, and saw a gun abandoned on the grid-work floor of the catwalk mere yards away.

Batman's gaze shifted to the hooded man with one arm around Gordon. With his gun at the commissioner's temple, he was backing slowly toward the door...

"Nobody makes a move. We go out clean."

"ECKHARDT!" All eyes turned towards the catwalk overhead, where the man stood with a .38 in his fist. A Single shot dropped Eckhardt cleanly.

The moment's distraction was all Batman needed. He hurled a small, ratcheted, razor-sharp disc at the forearm of the man holding Gordon. One jerk of a thin filament wire, a sudden shriek of pain - and Gordon was free.

The thug lurched forward. His gun dropped to the floor, discharging on impact.

There was an ungodly howl of pain from the catwalk above, echoing around the cavernous room as the man reeled and staggered, his hands clutching at his cheeks and blood gushing from between his fingers. He'd been shot in the face. Then a young cop, unnerved by the sight of the man's agonized pirouette, drew his gun and opened fire.

"NO!" Gordon's voice rang out, "We need him to-"

The bullet caught the man in the arm. He spun...tottered to the edge of the catwalk... and toppled over. The cops looked on helplessly as he plunged two stories down into a catch basin full of bubbling toxic waste; screaming all the way.

Gordon's voice yelled in frustration; "Goddammit, we had him. We -"

Suddenly, with the man they'd been trying to catch out of the picture, all attention focussed on Batman. Gotham's most wanted. The cops simultaneously reached for their guns, circling warily around him. Cornered; he backed off slowly – his hands on his belt.

"Hold it right there, Mister." Gordon's voice said with more control.

Batman glanced briefly at him then raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. But as the cops cautiously advanced, he flicked two tiny capsules onto the factory floor...

There was a blinding flash of light, colors bursting in a wild pyrotechnic display. The cops stumbled backwards, momentarily dazzled as a thick wall of black smoke concealed Batman from view. It was all he needed. A tiny grappling hook rocketed out of the dense curling cloud and caught on a catwalk overhead.

"LOOK!" Someone yelled.

The cops fired wildly into the smoke, but it was too late. At the end of a cord, Batman whipped upward in a dark blur, rising out of the smoke like an avenging angel and disappearing into the shadowy heights, safely out of range.

"HOLD YOUR FIRE!" Gordon stepped forwards, his gaze on the darkness above them, "Well. You've gotta give it to him; he's one hell of a showman..."

Vicki Vale's Apartment – Night:

Tossing off her ridiculously high heels and peeling out of her designer labels, Vicki walked barefoot into her bedroom, placed the clothes into the hamper and selected something more comfortable from the drawers in her walk-in closet. Reappearing in comfortable jeans and a fitted tee, her fingers nimbly plaited her long hair into a braid as she stepped to her dresser – then she added a loose band to the end, tugged wipes from a container to remove her makeup and headed for the kitchen.

"Shutters down."

One of the added bonuses of moonlighting for a billionaire was the technology that came with her large apartment. The shutters all silently lowered over the windows while she grabbed a can of soda and a container of cold pasta from the refrigerator. Then she got a fork from the drawer, bumped it shut with her hip and walked across the open plan living room to the small keyboard on one wall. It might have looked like the control for the heating and air conditioning – and it was -among other things. Vicki keyed in a code and the wall covered in floor to ceiling floating shelves slid back to reveal a hidden room.

Two minutes later she had all the screens active, the system booted up, the surveillance cameras in and around the apartment online and she was cracking open her soda as she tucked her ear-piece into place.

She smiled. Good to go. Time to check in on the team...

"Watchtower to Arrow."

Wayne Manor – Two Hours Later:

Bruce smiled as the light flashed on his console. As much as he had debated on the merits of joining the so-called-Justice-League after an accidental meeting with a certain Clark Kent, he had to silently admit the regular check-ins with their coordinator had rapidly become one of the highlights of his week. Though he doubted the woman on the other end of the secure line would appreciate the direction his subconscious thoughts had taken in response to the purely sexual tone of her voice...

No, it was the way she spoke more than the tone. Confident, capable, as intelligent as anyone he had ever met - the cool under pressure, brook no-nonsense type of woman who could convey a seductive smile from wherever she was as easily as -

He hit the button and heard her voice; "Watchtower to Knight."

Bruce lowered his voice to the hoarse rasp she was used to, "Watchtower..."

"Well hello," She responded with one of those seductive smiles in her voice, "Quiet night?"

"Nothing more than usual," He leaned back in his chair and tried to picture her in his mind, "What can I do for you?"

The question was voiced in a way that made it plain he was open to several suggestions given the chance. And when she paused for a brief second before answering his smile grew.

But her voice remained calm, "I have an update download for you. Could you deactive that snazzy firewall of yours for me?"

"I could. If you asked me nicely..."

The low chuckle of purely feminine laughter went directly from his ears to a lower point in his gut. Then she ramped it up some by saying a breathy; "Pretty please?"

The sound of an answering chuckle of deep laughter surprised even him. It had been a long time since he'd laughed a laugh he hadn't had to put effort into – how long had it been? He stared into the middle distance. Since before Rachel...

"Could we do it today do you think?"

Bruce snapped back into the present, reaching for his keyboard and tapping in the code, "Ready."

One of his screens flashed with encrypted coding. And while it did her voice gently asked, "You okay?"

Glancing around the bank of monitors Bruce nodded, "Yes."

"Ahhh. We're having one of those nights are we?"

"Why? You have a pep-talk prepared?"

"I have one I used earlier with another member of the team. Reduce, reuse, recycle and all that..."

It brought the smile back to his face, "I believe I'll pass."

"Now there's a surprise." A different kind of smile came through in her voice, "You're no fun tonight..."

If she looked anywhere in the region of how good she sounded then; "Disproving that statement would require a face-to-face meeting Watchtower."

It was the most forward he'd been during their brief conversations and he knew she was as aware of that as he was, but it wasn't a great surprise considering the way they'd talked over the last few weeks. Bruce waited to see how she would react.

"Knight? Are you flirting with me?"

"There's a rule is there?"

"Not according to certain other members of the team; no." There was the sound of a keyboard being tapped in the background and a low exhale of breath that made Bruce mentally picture a loose strand of hair in her way, "Though I should probably warn you if you ask me what I'm wearing right now you'll be the second guy to ask in the last hour..."

An immediate frown of displeasure made him ask; "And how did he fare?"

She laughed the low laugh that effected his libido again, "He's quick off the mark but since he asks the same question every time I talk to him he's a little lacking in originality. Download complete – you can reset the firewall again now unless you have anything you want to share."

"Resetting." Mentally shaking off his bout of possessiveness he decided to hell with it and added, "So what did you tell him you were wearing?"

"Goodbye Knight. Stay safe."

She was incredibly good at her job. Was probably exactly the same with every member of the team. But Bruce wondered if the implication of genuine caring in the warm sincerity of her voice had quite the same meaning to everyone else. Somehow he doubted it. Even if it did make him briefly wonder at how isolated he had become. It was a necessary sacrifice he reminded himself. Someone had already paid the price for becoming entangled in his life. And one was one too many as far as he was concerned. It wouldn't happen again.

Apparently didn't stop him from reciprocating the sentiment; "And you Watchtower."

"Watchtower out."

Vicki Vale's Apartment – Same Time:

Vicki ended the secure transmission and leaned back in her chair; idly rubbing her thumb over the scar on her arm as she let the sound of his voice echo in her mind. She didn't know what it was about Knight that made him different but there was just... something...

Maybe it was because she always ended their short conversations feeling lonelier than she had before she contacted his call-sign. For a brief while when she talked to the members of the team she knew well she could forget everything she had given up and the people she loved who had been left behind. But it was more than that. She didn't know how she knew but she was certain Knight was isolated in a way the majority of the team weren't. It was as if his loneliness echoed hers and magnified it to the point where she felt more tied to him than she did the others – as if he needed to hear her voice more than they did.

There were four new members of the team counting Clark. But she didn't know any more about Lantern or Wonder than she did about Knight. Lantern was always friendly; sharing information equally with the team. Wonder she spoke to less often because the woman didn't appear to be one for technology; a bit like Clark really – who she hadn't heard from since he'd gone to Metropolis beyond reading news about the man Lois had dubbed 'Superman'. The thought made her smile. Oh what she would have given to be a fly on the wall in the Daily Planet when her cousin got the news of her new partner. Poor Clark. Still, Lo seemed fairly impressed with Superman, so every cloud...

Her mind wandered back to Knight. Knight who could talk technology to her on her level, possibly above when it came to the newer stuff. Knight who never shared information unless it was vital in global terms. The man with a voice that could send a shiver of awareness up her spine, and probably would have even if he was reading from a telephone directory. Recent security protocols meant she didn't know where he was or who he was or the range/lack of abilities he possessed and Vicki understood why. Didn't make him any less intriguing to her though.

Glancing down at the thumb on her arm she smiled wryly. Keeping the odd scar to hide her own ability was part of her new identity, but that particular one had served it's purpose she felt. So she lifted her hand a half inch, focussed her mind and saw the light forming beneath her palm as warmth washed over the skin on her arm. The scar was gone in a matter of milliseconds. Then she sat forwards in her chair again. Last check of news reports worldwide and time for some shut-eye. Tomorrow was another day. And she had an elusive, arrogant billionaire to hound.

Gotham Gazette City Room - Early morning:

A banner headline on the late edition of the Gazette read: 'BATMAN FOILS ROBBERY. WHO IS MASKED VIGILANTE?' The article then questioned his motives and whether or not he had actually been a part of the robbery...

Behind the newspaper, feet propped up on his desk, was a jubilant Knox, on the horn to Chief Gordon as he surveyed his front page byline, "Do us both a favor Chief Gordon. Don't tell me some lie you'll have to retract later."

A click sounded in his ear and Knox grinned, lowering the paper to find himself looking up at the smiling face of Vicki Vale, "Mornin' gorgeous!"

"Making friends again?"

He waved his headline at her; "Looks like our friend the bat is getting ambitious. Why the dopey grin?"

"I'll take your headline and raise you a date with Bruce Wayne..." She angled her head and grinned proudly, wrinkling her pert little nose in glee.

Knox's eyes widened, "Bruce Wayne? Date? He called you up and asked you for a date?..." He raised his voice and yelled across the room, "HEY MIRANDA! C'MERE!"

When Vicki lifted a brow in question and folded her arms across the jacket of her beautifully tailored emerald green satin jacket he lowered his voice to a more normal level; "I want you to pay close attention to this. Miranda - tell my friend here what you told me about Bruce Wayne."

Miranda Reitz was in the region of sixty, a superannuated southern-belle type and the society editor at the Gazette, "You mean Mister One-Nighter?"

Nodding sagely Knox repeated, "Yeah. Mister One-Nighter. Because that's the average length of his relationships with women..."

"The current record is almost two weeks. That cover girl - what's her name? You must've taken her photograph at some stage, Vicki -" Miranda was cut off by Knox.

"Tell her about the peanuts."

Vicki looked amused, "Peanuts?"

"Peanuts." Knox nodded again, "Which is how he goes through women."

"Like Planter's Peanuts." Miranda added.

"Plain or roasted?" She'd kept a straight face for as long as she could, laughter breaking free as she got off the edge of Knox's desk, "I'm very flattered that you've gone out and done all this research for me."

"Why?" Twin flashes of red began to arrive on his cheeks, "Aw, come on, Vick, I'm a reporter. I'm curious. I do this for a living. What'd you tell him?"

"I told him yes." She shrugged one shoulder. Not that she was seeing it as an actual 'date'. Or that she was telling Knox the invitation to lunch had been extended by Bruce Wayne's personal assistant at the scrape of dawn. Bruce Wayne could think whatever he wanted. She was getting her interview. Even if it meant smiling through gritted teeth for a few hours. The 'date' was a means to an end.

Knox didn't look happy, and wasn't doing too good a job of hiding it. He was sweet really. Vicki shook her head, took his face in her hands and planted a kiss on his forehead, "You're a sweetheart to be concerned, but it's really not necessary. I'll call you, okay? Right now I have a press conference to attend."

She left while Knox sat looking pole-axed, "What was that?"

Miranda patted him on the head like a puppy, "That was one of the most gracious screw-you's it's ever been my pleasure to witness. She's a class act."

Totally flustered, Knox sighed and sank deeper into his chair and waved the back of his hand in a 'shooing' motion, "Miranda, I'm busy. Go be productive."

Halfway to the elevators Vicki heard a chirruping note from her purse, so she reached in for her cell-phone and opened it to check the text message. Her footsteps faltered, the sensation that the world was suddenly spinning faster around her adding to the violent need to throw up. A shiver of icy cold ran up her spine, her mouth went dry. And all from two little words from her cousin...

'He escaped.'

She looked around her at the new home she'd made; familiar faces sat at desks working or talking on the phone – some greeting her by name as they walked by. No. She couldn't do it again. She wouldn't let him take another life from her. Why was she even reacting the way she was. He didn't know where she was. And he would have one hell of a time trying to find her – Oliver Queen and the Justice League had made sure of that. And she wasn't going to look back on what had happened last time either. She wasn't giving him that.

With a lift of her chin she gave herself a hard mental shake and continued walking to the elevators. Lex Luthor had no place in any part of Vicki Vale's life and never, ever would.

Over her dead body.