The streets of Gotham were quiet tonight, the thick soup of clouds overhead silent from the storm that had passed hours before. Things still dripped from the heavy rain, the smell of petrichor was trying hard to wash away the scent of pollution, but had faded quickly. A slight breeze skimmed over the rooftops, bringing with it the stench of poverty and trash. This part of the city would always seemed to suffer, no matter how much citizenship was given up to try and fix the place. Not many good respectable Gothamites came here anyways, since the streets were laiden with thieves; some people were a little too attached to their wallets. It was a perfect place to be on a slow night for the Batman.
Bruce stood at the very edge of a building, looking out across the short rooftops to the more glorious part of Gotham. The Wayne Tower stood tall among the shiny lights of other skyscrapers, a symbol of wealth and prosperity. He was supposed to be meeting a reporter from Central City about his success as a Wayne, but he had politely canceled it, with the help of a disgruntled Alfred. He needed the night to think to himself. Pulling his cloak tighter around himself when he felt the wind swirl around his legs, for the nights here got cold quickly, he allowed his mind to wander.
A new sound floated up to him, taking his attention away from the city. It was soft and innocent, but he couldn't pinpoint it exactly. He moved, his cape sweeping out behind him as he nimbly ran across the roofs to follow the sound. He paused, completely silent; the sound had stopped. He looked down below him into a narrow alleyway cluttered with dumpsters and trash. Nothing moved there.
The sound came again, this time to his right, and Bruce was able to detect it as a child singing a soft song. He jumped, landing in a pile of trash bags, half-dreading what could be in them. They at least cushioned his fall, and he was off again. The street he turned into was dark, save for one street light all the way at the end that was dim from the lack of efficient power. A small girl was standing under it, the source of the song. She was facing away from him, so he stuck to the shadows to creep on her. She looked a little young to be wandering around by herself. A small backpack was on her back, a grubby picture of a princess on it. The jacket she was wearing didn't look the least bit warm, and she was shivering. Bruce approached her warily; it could easily be a trick set up by the Joker or the Riddler to lower his guard. He was a few feet away when she stopped singing and turned, making him halt. Her eyes were tired but bright, her blonde hair a little messy where it draped over her small shoulders. Her tattered gloves had pom poms sewed to them, and it was evident that she was poor. Her young eyes searched the darkness, her imagination running wild with every blink.
"Batman?" She called, tentatively but with confidence.
Bruce finally decided it wasn't a trick and it was a just a little girl hoping to see the Dark Knight like many other children. He stepped out of the shadows, his cape spread out in front of him.
"Isn't it a little dangerous for a little girl like you to be wandering the streets of Gotham after dark?" He asked in his usual husky voice.
The girl was quiet for a moment before shaking her head. "No 'cause I know this place and I know where mommy is." Her eyes were wide with amazement at seeing the Batman for the first time.
Bruce resisted a smile; she was cute. "You were looking for me," he said, taking a step closer.
She nodded several times excitedly. She unexpectedly dropped to her knees to take off her backpack and dig through it. He watched her pull out a messily folded piece of paper, unfold it, then stand up and hold it out happily.
"This is for you!"
Bruce closed the rest of the space between them, taking the piece of paper from her. Drawn from cheap crayons was a picture of Batman punching the Joker with a large, colorful POW! in the background. At the bottom was the messily signed name of Lydia.
"This is for me?"
"Uh-huh! I spent hours on it!" She said with a huge smile. "You're the best hero ever!"
Bruce studied the picture, humbled from the little girl's gift. He had never gotten anything like this before. He knelt to be eye-to-eye to her, holding the picture gingerly.
"Thank you for the picture, Lydia," he said sincerely, giving her a warm smile.
Lydia giggled and swung her hands, pleased that the Dark Knight liked her drawing. Bruce folded up her drawing and slid it in the most secure section of his utility belt before standing up and offering her his hand. "Can I walk you home?"
Her eyes got so big and bright he thought she was going to explode from excitement.
Lydia dragged Bruce by his hand through the dark alleyways of the part of the city he was supposed to be patrolling but instead was being given a tour of. She babbled about how she was only five and a half and knew this part of the city better than anyone. Her friend Sarah lived in one house that had no outside lights on with a cat perched on the window frame named Shadow. She continued to monologue about how she played in the alleyway with the city of cardboard boxes and the street drain she caught a weird looking fish once. She seemed so bubbly and alive living in a place that was so dirty and dark. Anyone that would've seen them wouldn't have believed their eyes at a five-year-old dragging the Batman behind her. She chatted through her teeth as the temperature continued to drop, shivering almost violently. Eventually Bruce swept his cape around her, pulling her close to his hip to keep her warm. She squealed happily when he did that, holding onto his leg as she pointed things out. Soon she was snug and warm protected by his side.
Finally they came to Lydia's small home, tucked away between two stores that looked permanently closed. A single light was on inside, shining through the blinds that tried to cover the window. As Bruce studied the house with pity Lydia tugged on his leg, making him raise his cape to look down at her.
"Mommy says I'm not allowed to go out after dark," she admitted. "But I wanted to give you your pretty picture."
Bruce stepped back to kneel in front of her again. "That was very dangerous of you to disobey your mother," he scolded as she looked down at the ground, "even if it was to find me. I don't want you doing that again." he brushed a strand of her hair gently behind her ear. "I want you to be safe, and darkness isn't a place for a lively girl like you."
Lydia blushed at the compliment. "Okay Batman!"
He stood, resisting yet another smile, and climbed the steps to knock on the door. Lydia still hid in his cape, giggling quietly. He guessed she was going to scare her mother, if the vigilante showing up at her door wasn't surprising enough.
"Just a moment!" a voice called. Bruce peeked down at Lydia, who held a gloved finger to her lips. He had been right.
The scrape of several locks sounded before the door was hesitantly pulled open. The woman that appeared was much shorter than Bruce, wearing a very worn and splattered potter's apron. Now that the door was open the smell of clay and pottery smacked him in the face. The woman looked very tired with her hands covered in dry clay and rough from sculpting all day. Her eyes widened with fear when she saw the Dark Knight standing on her doorstep.
"Ma'am," Bruce nodded politely.
"I- Batman! Um, hi, uh, what can I do… for you?" she stammered, obviously startled and looking like she was going to pass out.
"Hi mommy!" Lydia exclaimed, leaping out of his cape with her arms up high. Her sudden movement startled her mother so badly she jumped at least a foot in the air.
"I found her wandering the streets," Bruce explained as she wordlessly scooped Lydia in her arms. "Thought I would give her a safe escort home."
Her mother held her tightly, relieved that her missing daughter was safe. "Lydia, what have I told you about going out after dark?" She scolded. "You know I can't find you in the streets; they're like a maze!"
"I know, but I had to give Batman his picture," Lydia said almost matter-of-factly.
Her mother shook her head before looking at him. "She's obsessed with you and all the heroic acts you do for the city that she has a whole wall of drawings dedicated to you." She set her down, patting her head. "I'm sorry to interrupt your night, Batman."
"No worries," he replied. "It has been a slow night to begin with."
The woman awkwardly stuck out her hand. "Katie Black."
Bruce shook her hand, though bits of clay rubbed off onto his gloves.
"Oh, I'm sorry about that," she apologized, embarrassed.
"No worries," he repeated, making no effort to wipe it off. "Where's her father?"
"Oh," the question seemed to be a strike across her face. "Her father… left after she was born. We… don't really like to talk about him here."
He nodded in understanding, deciding not to press the matter. He didn't have the best family situation either.
"You have a nice place," he commented, gesturing to the small living room scattered with unpainted flower pots and unfinished mugs. Even the couch was covered in containers full of clay ready to be used. "You make pottery?"
"Yeah, it's the only thing that's keeping a roof over our heads," Katie admitted shamefully. "It's so hard to get a job in this part of town."
"Hmm." Bruce watched Lydia take off her backpack and retrieve a box of crayons and crumbled papers. "It must be hard without a father to provide for the family."
Katie sighed and rubbed her forehead. "You have the time?" She asked. "My clock just stopped and I don't have batteries to replace it."
"Ten seventeen," he replied, not needing a watch to know. "Which is time for me to leave."
"Of course! Um, thank you for bringing Lydia home, and thank you for protecting the city." It was obvious she didn't know how to talk to men. "Have a nice night."
"Bye Batman!" Lydia waved energetically from where she laid on the floor drawing another picture of him.
He gave her a nod before disappearing in the shadows.
"What's this?" Alfred picked up the folded paper, pulling it open to see a messy drawing.
"Encountered a sweet little girl in the outskirts of Gotham tonight. She wanted to find me to give me that," Bruce replied without looking up from the Batcomputer.
"Wasn't it a bit cold tonight for a child to be wandering around looking for the Batman?"
Bruce smirked. "That's exactly what I said."
Alfred turned to watch him bring up several articles and records. "What are you doing?"
"Looking up the history of the Blacks. The girl's mother said her father left after she was born, and because of this they're living in the poor part of Gotham."
"And you don't believe them?"
Bruce smiled at that. "People have lied to me before."
Alfred nodded in agreement, then returned his attention back to the drawing. "Shall I find a frame for this then, Master Bruce?"
"Yes, thank you Alfred."