Hey guys! This is my first time ever playing with something Batman related, so try to be gentle. I have no clue where the idea for this story came from, but it just hit me out of blue and made me go find my Batman Begins dvd. So, after watching it a couple times, I got this. Like a good handful of stories I've read here, the story takes place after BB and I have no idea where it is compared to The Dark Knight. But that movie isn't out yet, so I'm not worrying. Before I let you guys go read, I have my lil' quick disclaimer. I only own Ridley, the Bishop family and of course all those who you don't recongize. Everything else belongs to other people who actually get paid big bucks to do this kinda thing. haha. So, I hope you guys like this first chapter. Let me know what you think. --B.E

Breakneck
Chapter One- Gallery

There was something soothing about mixing paint to get new colors and then slapping them onto a blank canvas in large textured blobs. Humming softly along with the radio on the other side of the room, Ridley chewed thoughtfully on her bottom lip as she smeared the greenish-purple mix across the surface of her soon to be newest painting. It was off, the color looked good but there was something missing. She was going for a dark and murky theme since she had been inspired by one of the few dingy clumps of trees out in Gotham Square Park. It was Gotham; everything was dark, murky and teetering on the edge of spooky. The color had to be right. She huffed as she looked back at the swirl of paint on her pallet; it looked more like a nasty bruise than those trees she saw earlier.

"More brown maybe?" She muttered to herself, reaching for a different tube of paint as a loud guitar riff tore through the air around her. A minute later, she seemed happier with the color and applied it to the next pencil outlined section of soon to be forest. Slowly the glob of dark muddy purplish-brown began to go from a smudgy shape to looking like trees; something Ridley was actually very proud of. She had been so caught up with work that she had barely any time to paint lately.

"Ridley!" Turning too fast on her bare heel, her wooden pallet nearly fell out of her hand and dark eyes flew over to the door. In the doorway to the small studio, with a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips and pushing her hair out of her face stood her receptionist Paige Walker. The young woman had been working for Ridley and her partner Arielle McBride since the two first opened their art gallery. Ridley was the creative side of the business while Arielle was the work side, she took care of all the 'behind the scenes' work. Also known as the stuff Ridley hated to do, like paper work and paying bills.

"That better be the greatest thing you've ever painted because I've been calling you for ten minutes. I even turned the music off." Paige joked, looking up at her boss.

"I hope it's the best, I've been looking for a masterpiece." Ridley said, joking right back, as she walked over to the large dry sink and reached for a damp sponge to wrap up along with her freshly poured out paint. There was no point in washing off the pallet and wasting everything; she'd only be back in the studio in a half hour or so. "So, what's up?"

"Downstairs in the main gallery, there's an umh…customer." Paige said, a slight blush creeping into her cheeks. What was that all about, Ridley wondered as she dried her hands on a piece of paper towel. "Yeah….downstairs. He's downstairs."

Of course they had men come into the gallery all the time, looking for something different and unique for that important woman in their lives or they'd come in, well more like dragged in, by their wives and played along by 'oh-ing' and 'ahh-ing' at pieces. But in the six years Paige had been working for Bishop and Bride Galleries, Ridley had never seen her act that way before. She was acting like a school girl with a crush. Eyeing her carefully, Ridley placed a hand on her hip and arched an eye brow at her.

"Paige, who's downstairs?"

"Umh…you should go see for yourself." Was all Paige said, before disappearing in a fit of giggles and a bright pink blush. From where she stood, Ridley could hear Paige's high heels clacking against the wrought iron steps that made up the spiral stair case and then turned back to her damp canvas. Sighing, Ridley rolled her eyes as she stepped back into the shoes she had abandoned earlier—she painted barefoot—and then did as Paige had said.

Stepping down off the bottom step and then into the gallery; the second floor was all offices and the studio, Ridley saw the customer Paige had mentioned. Well, it had to be the same person, seeing as he was the only person in there. The man was standing at the far end of the gallery as if he had stopped the moment he walked in and was starring up at one of Ivy Pierce's paintings. The large canvas he was looking at had been up on that wall for months. Ridley had been telling Ivy that it no one was buying it because it was too big and they didn't have the wall space; she didn't have the heart to tell her the real reason why it was still there.

As she walked across the polished hardwood floor, her high heels clacked loudly and echoed throughout the open space. Her eyes stayed trained on the man as she crossed the gallery. He looked like he had just stepped out of a business meeting in his dark suit, tie and black trench coat. His hands were jammed into his pockets as he stared up. Bringing her fist to her mouth, Ridley coughed into her hand and smirked when he turned to face her. Only the smirk was quickly replaced by wide eyed shock. No wonder Paige was acting strange, it wasn't everyday that the Prince of Gotham walked into the gallery.

"Please tell me you're Ridley, the other young woman…"

"Paige, my receptionist."

"…Paige said she had to go get you. It was really hard to make out what she was saying amidst all the giggling." He said, a small smile on his face as if he wasn't bothered by Paige's actions. Ridley was though; she had been very unprofessional with him.

"Believe me Mr. Wayne, she's never acted like that before. I'll have to talk to her." Ridley said, trying to sound as professional as she could to make up for Paige.

"You know who I am, but I didn't catch your name, Miss…?"

"Oh, I'm sorry about that. I'm Ridley Bishop." She said, feeling a little stupid for not introducing herself before when he asked if she was who Paige went to find. "Just like Paige promised." Mr. Wayne smirked softly at her.

"Bishop? Like the name out front?"

"One and the same, Mr. Wayne." His smile twitched a little. "Is something wrong, sir?"

"Please, don't call me sir. I'm still having a hard enough time with Mr. Wayne." Ridley smiled, she didn't know playboys now came with a humble streak, very interesting. "You wouldn't happen to be related to Mayor Joseph Bishop, would you?"

"He's my father, but I have a feeling you already know that, don't you? Wayne Enterprises does some business with Bishop Industries, so you must know."

"Your father does have a tendency for talking about his children…"

"You mean he brags about the three of us." Ridley scoffed. She hated when he did that.

"Well, having a highly recommended lawyer, an artist and a model as his daughters, I'd say that's something to brag about. I don't see anything wrong with that."

"As long as someone agrees with him, I've only told him a hundred times not to, but hey…he does it anyways." She said, trying to keep the smile on her face and stop herself from rambling, like she was. "So, Mr. Wayne, are you interested in anything you've seen so far?"

"Yes, actually. I stopped in the other night." Ridley's brows furrowed. She hadn't seen him the night before; if she had she most certainly would have remembered. "I think I spoke to your partner Miss McBride. She was working late the other night."

"She was filing out shipment paper work; she told me that she was staying late. I couldn't hang around; I was having dinner with my father."

"Yes, she said you had somewhere to be. But she told me to come back and make sure I talk to Ridley." Nodding at him, Ridley clapped her hands together and glanced around the gallery.

"So, what were you looking at?"

After taking a closer look at the three pieces, Ridley was actually surprised to see which pieces he had picked out: the one of Ivy's he had been looking at when he first walked in, and then two more from two of her regular clients. Rarely did any of her customers buy more than one piece at a time; there was the occasional two pieces, but never three. A swell of pride bubbled up in her chest, if Bruce Wayne was buying from her gallery; it was finally getting the notice it needed. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught him reach into his suit jacket and pulled something out of his pocket. Something that looked strangely like a check book.

"So Miss Bishop, who do I make the check out to?" Startled, Ridley blinked a few times and then let the words sink in. He really did want to buy the pieces they had looked at. Biting her bottom lip, she looked away from him and raked a hand through her hair. "Is something the matter Miss Bishop?"

"Not really. And please, Mr. Wayne, call me Ridley."

"Then call me Bruce. What's wrong?"

"Well, I can't sell you these pieces."

"And why's that?"

"Everything you see is on sale. But not right now."

"Not now? So when?"

"Tonight, we're having an auction later on. My father heard about it and decided to make it this huge event. Apparently, the 'elite' of Gotham will be here. He figured if he could get people to come out and support me, he might get some more votes for the upcoming election."

"Ulterior motives." Laughing, Ridley nodded and tapped her finger to her nose.

"You seem to have my father completely figured out, Mr. Way…" She paused, catching herself. "…Bruce." Bruce smiled back at her and she tried not to blush. Had he smiled at Paige that way? Now she understood why the younger woman was acting the way she was. That smile had the power to reduce anyone to a giggling puddle.

"So, what time should I come back for the auction?"

Later that evening, Bishop and Bride Galleries was filled with practically every member of Gotham's upper crust elite, rich and famous socialite crowd. Somewhere mixed in the sea of people were both of Ridley's sisters and her parents. Off in a corner stood a small clump of gorgeous young men, Ridley shook her head, so that was where her younger sister Natasha wandered off to. Taking another sip of her champagne, Ridley glided out of the corner she had been hiding in and made her way over to where her business partner stood. Ridley had met Arielle McBride in college, not in class or anything, but while running across campus. It had been her first day at the college, she could not, for the life of her, find Sherman Hall and Arielle was a year ahead of her so she must've known her way around. From that day on, as cliché as it sounded, the two were always together. And then, after graduation, they went into business together; Arielle was the business end since that had been what she majored in while Ridley handled the artsy side of the gallery. Arielle stood by the white cloth covered buffet table with her fiancé Ryan Banks. Arielle stood a few inches taller than Ridley with shoulder length red hair that she had recently added black streaks to, and dark green eyes. For the auction, she had changed out of her dress pants and button down blouse and slipped into a teal colored cocktail party dress with strappy black heels. Coming over to her business partner, Ridley slid up alongside her and nudged her with her elbow.

"I hate my father for doing this." Ridley said out of the corner of her mouth as she smiled at Lawrence and Debra Shaw, her father's business partner and his wife.

"There are actually more people here than ever before, maybe you should hate him just a little less. At least for tonight, anyways." Arielle said laughing, as Ryan leaned in, whispering something into her ear before streaking out into the crowd. "He's going to 'mingle' with all the glamorous people." Shaking her head at her friend, Ridley finished off her champagne and went back to scanning the crowd. Her father, Joseph, was in the middle of the room with a large crowd around him and laughed loudly at someone's joke. She loved her father, she really did but when he did things like this, sometimes she wanted to hit him.

"Anyone buy anything yet?"

"There's been a few bids, no buys yet. But you've gotta tell me how you did it."

"How I did what?"

"How did you get Bruce Wayne to come to the auction?" Arching a dark brow at Arielle, she knew she looked a little confused and then went back to glancing around the room. She didn't see him. "He's in your dad's crowd. I saw him walk by earlier. You have to tell me, how?"

"I…I…he wanted to buy some paintings earlier. All I said was that he couldn't this afternoon and if he really wanted them, he had to come back tonight."

"Rids, I've been trying to get an invitation to Bruce Wayne for months and all you did was tell him if he wanted to buy something, he had to come back later. This, this is why we're a good team. I arrange the party and you drag in the good guests." Rolling her eyes, the two talked for a little while longer before Ridley grabbed another glass of champagne and went upstairs, only to slip out onto the large balcony. It was more like a private deck, but the girls had been calling it a balcony since they first bought the building.

Walking across the wooden floor boards, Ridley made her way over to the metal fence and leaned on the railing. Looking out on Gotham's skyline, she sighed. It was her father's job to help 'clean-up' the city, but everyday it seemed that less and less happened and more and more bad things were happening. But she had grown up in Gotham, had lived there all her life and no matter what horror stories she heard, it was her home. She loved the city life and couldn't live anywhere else. She had tried it during her college years and hated every moment of it. The cool night air wrapped around her and she regretted walking out without her jacket; like Arielle she had traded her work clothes for a simple navy blue strapless dress that came to her knees and black high heels. The breeze sent her hair flying around her face and lifted it off of her shoulders.

"Shouldn't the woman of the hour be inside, enjoying her party? Not hiding out here all by herself?" Turning toward the voice coming from behind her, Ridley arched a dark eye brow at Bruce Wayne as he came out onto the deck. In the dim light that didn't quite reach where she was standing, Ridley made out the same slight grin she saw on his face earlier when he came into the gallery that afternoon. It was odd seeing him here; she didn't think he'd show.

"I'm not alone anymore Mr. Wayne. And Arielle is playing 'woman of the hour' right now. We take turns."

"Sharing, that's good." He said, leaning on the railing next to her. "So, have you sold anything yet tonight?"

"Not yet, but it's still early so I'm not too worried." Ridley said, shrugging.

"You're not? What would it take to shock you? The whole gallery sold for the highest bidder?" He asked, looking at her with a semi-playful gleam in his eye. Was he teasing her?

"Actually, yes. That would shock me, very much so. But you being here is pretty shocking, Mr. Wayne."

"It's Bruce and why is that shocking? Didn't expect me to actually show up?"

"Honestly, I didn't even think you knew that my gallery existed until you stepped foot in it this afternoon. I didn't think playboys like yourself would be interested in art. Maybe a photograph of a naked woman, but not muddy, moody landscapes and splashes of paint on canvas." Bruce laughed, an actual honest to God laugh not some fake posh laugh someone inside would give her and Ridley felt her cheeks heat up. She had made a fool out of herself in front of Bruce Wayne. "I am so sorry Mr. Wayne. Sometimes I don't think before I..."

"No, no Miss Bishop. It's fine, really. I thought it was funny." Ridley gave him an odd look. "The playboy thing is just an act, something to keep the tabloid readers interested. And I have a feeling that you know from personal experience that you can't believe everything you read." Ridley snorted, it was true.

"Yeah, I know all about the tabloids. I don't read them anymore, Paige and Arielle do so they try to keep me in the loop. I avoid them like the plague, I don't need to read about Natasha's latest adventures or who she's dating or not dating. And really, all I have to do is ask her all about whatever happened and she'll proudly tell me." Ridley said, shaking her head. Her younger sister had a problem, she did all kinds of wild things and didn't really care if her picture was splashed across those rag-mags. "Besides, they seem to love dragging my name through the mud."

"Oh that's right, I forgot that I'm talking to Gotham's Golden Girl." Bruce's smiled quivered as if he was going to laugh again. Oh God, Ridley hated that. Ever since the press had coined that phrase a few years ago, she hadn't been able to escape it. Out of the three Bishop girls, apparently she was the only one who had the 'honor' of recieving such a nickname. Natasha was the Party Girl and her older sister Temperance was the Ice Queen. And obviously that made her the city's golden girl.

"Please don't call me that. It's either Ridley or Rids. Not Gotham's Golden Girl. When Rachel first heard that, she called me it for weeks." Ridley laughed softly, shaking her head. "Well at least, now I can say that I agree with Rachel when she says the tabloids are extremely wrong."

"Wrong about...?"

"About you. Rachel always told me not..."

"Rachel, who?"

"Dawes."

"You know Rachel?" Bruce asked, arching an eye brow at her.

"Of course I do. We've been friends since we were kids, Mr. Wayne." He just looked at her, as if he was trying to place her face. "You and I never really crossed paths when we were with her. Whenever I was with Rachel, she had either just seen you or was going to later on. I spent a good chunk of my childhood wondering just who her 'mysterious' friend was and when I finally found out, I was more than a little jealous. But that was to be expected, I guess, or at least that was what my older sister told me."

"How come Rachel never..."

"Mentioned me? How should I know? Rachel does her own thing and when she makes up her mind, there is no changing it for her."

"That is true." The two shared a quiet laugh and lasped into a comfortable silnce, staring out at the city they both called their own. "How is she?"

"She's good." Ridley said softly, as she finished off her second glass of champagne and quickly stole a glance over at Bruce. "She still asks about you, you know? She's always asking if I ever run into you. Now I don't have to stutter and change the subject when she calls me on it. She hates when I do that." She laughed, more to herself than Bruce, almost musing over her friend's pet-peeves.

"She hated whenever I did it too, so you're not the only one. Does she ever mention how she's doing out in...damn, where is she working now?" Rachel had told her, if she ever did run into Bruce, there was a good chance he'd be 'completely oblivious' to whatever had happened between them and act like nothing ever happened. Ridley had nodded, on her side of the conversation of course and unseen by Rachel, and promised to fill in the blanks when needed.

"Metropolis. She likes it out there, the pay is good, nice new office and her apartment is amazing. She's happy out there, really happy and doing really good."

"Have you seen her?"

"I was out there a month or so ago. You should give her a call, she'd love to hear from you."

"I doubt that."

"Bruce Wayne, afraid to call a girl? I have seen everything now." Bruce sent her a cool sideways glance. "That was a little off color, I'm sorry. But you really should call her. Rachel didn't leave Gotham because of whatever happened with you guys or because of you. She left Gotham because of Gotham in general." Ridley said, taking a step back from the fence. "And with that ending remark, it's my cue to leave. Anyways, I have to go releave Arielle of her 'Woman of the Hour' duties and go mingle."

"Have fun in there Ridley."

"You too Bruce. Have a good night." Smiling, she squeezed Bruce's hand gently before going back into the gallery and back to her party where she had to pretend that she enjoyed everyone's company. As she closed the French doors behind her, giving Bruce some privacy, she never saw the bat shaped signal light up the cloudless sky overhead.