Broken Serenity

Author: Sakura123
Rated: T
Genre: General/Drama
Summary: Missing Scene: Narrows Aftermath. There was hardly any time to put the pieces together, Rachel observed.
Characters: Batman (Bruce Wayne), Rachel Dawes, Jim Gordon, Alfred Pennyworth.
Disclaimer: Batman Begins and things related are property of DC comics Warner Brothers Studios. All rights reserved. Original characters and storyline is property of moi, the author.
Written: 11/11/06
Finished: 11/18/06

Author's Note: This is my first fanfiction based on anything Batman related. I've always avoided writing Batman fanfiction because I was wary of how to characterize Wayne's alter ego and his facade (himself in other words), along with the other characters (especially Michael Caine's Alfred). You'll forgive me if any of them seem very Out Of Character.

The wind beat harshly against the memory cloth as he maneuvered himself away from the tracks of the train, toward the Tumbler. Below he spotted Jim Gordon standing inside the vehicle. He looked more bewildered than shocked when he raised his hand and waved to him. Batman glided along the air eyeing the ground for a decent place to land. Leaning downward he guided himself to the ground without accelerating in speed, he rolled forward in mid air and landed on the ground. He tumbled across the ground and landed on one knee, halting himself with his hands. His torso ached in retaliation, he ignored the dull throb of pain as he rose to his feet with a heavy sigh. Turning swiftly, he marched over to Gordon as the policeman climbed out of the car. Jim tripped over his own feet, trying to steady himself on wobbly legs, he regarded the approaching figure with wary eyes. "Not bad. If I do say so myself," Batman commented, his eyes wandering the surface of his vehicle. Gordon exhaled heavily with a shrug of his shoulders. "It was nothing. The car did most of the work," Gordon answered. Batman pursed his lips in mild agreement, raising one stiff eyebrow (not that Gordon could see that).

Gordon looked up at the demolished train tracks in wonderment. He could see why the Commissioner was less than welcoming to this man dressed as a bat. Given the firepower he just used to destroy the monorail tracks, who knows what this man could do if he wasn't on their side. But if Gordon was an overly suspicious man, and he wasn't, than he wouldn't be standing here next to the enigma enshrouded in black. "You should be fine here, I've got to get going," Batman's voice startled Gordon out of his reverie. He watched as the towering figure climbed into the tumbler and seated himself at the wheel. He took a moment to regard Gordon who was watching him with the same vacant stare. There was still Rachel and boy to consider if the authorities hadn't already reached them. It was unlikely though, given the amount of chaos still going on the island. "Yeah, sure, go ahead. I've got this under control," Gordon muttered, mostly himself. Bruce gave a short nod before the canopy closed over him. The tumbler rolled out of its parking space and roared down the wet streets of Gotham, leaving behind a bewildered Jim Gordon.

Getting past the Policeman was hardly a difficult task, though Bruce would be lying to himself if he said he didn't wish that they were elsewhere at the moment. Several cars sought to block him from the bridge, the tumbler made short work of their fronts, shoving them aside as if there were nothing. They spun towards each other from the sheer force of the blow, their bodies mangled and their axle's ruined. Bruce managed to get across the bridge as they began to raise it, he brought the tumbler to a halt. He surveyed the area with a furrowed brow. There was a not a soul around and this put him on edge, slightly. Ever wary of his surroundings, Bruce climbed out of the vehicle and he looked around one more time. The faint moans and screams that echoed in the distance made the hairs on his neck stand on end, he spotted several silhouettes shuffling through the foggy mist. Bruce hoped Rachel was smart enough to stay where she was until he reached them. Removing his grappling gun from his belt he fired the hook upward toward the edge of the roof, Bruce looped the stress resistant wire around the inside of his belt and hauled himself upward. Halfway up he paused in his ascension, using his free hand he reached over and gave his right wrist a squeeze. The tumbler's came to life and proceeded down the street, as long as it was tracking him it would never loose its way. Pulling himself up to the roof Batman climbed over the edge and proceeded toward other end.

The terrified screams of the Narrows citizens echoed through the mist, whether or not they were screaming because of him, Batman wasn't sure. It was just as possible as the million other possibilities. The thought of people tearing each other apart, overwhelmed by their individual and equal fears was a grim vision to bear in one's mind. Swallowing against the knot in his throat, Bruce made a tight turn around an obstructing building. A quick observation noted that the windows had been knocked out, inside he spotted a woman huddled in the corner of her bedroom drenched in the blood of a fallen body that laid across from her on the bed. She rocked back and forth clawing away at the blood under her broken finger nails, her screams silenced by her clenched teeth upon her bottom lip. Her eyes fell upon the shadow passing her window and she scrambled out of her safe place and out the open bedroom door.

Batman continued onward until the wind under his cape began to die down. Examining his current environment he spotted a vacant fire escape not too far from him. He landed on the metal rail with a grunt, almost loosing his balance as his wet boots struggled to get a grip on the metallic surface, while his hands gripped the bars for dear life. Pushing himself forward he landed on the platform in a crouch, he cast a quick glance at the windows. The curtains were pulled down and not a sound emitted from the room, Bruce couldn't help the tired sigh that escaped his lips as he climbed the stairs up to the roof. Rachel and the boy couldn't be too far from here, on the roof he might be able to tell where he left them. The nagging doubt he couldn't, brought on by the striking resemblance all clustered houses had to each other, made him skeptical.

The crusader had hardly stepped onto the edge of roof when something slammed into the injured side of his torso. Batman reeled from the pain and surprise, he had not been paying attention like he should've been. Twisting his upper body around he met the blazing gaze, or lack thereof (literally), of a balding man hardly out of forties. He was wielding a rusted piece of pipe like a bat. Batman righted himself as the man came at him again. Bruce pushed against the railing of the stairs and ducked under the man as the pipe came at his head, the whistle of the makeshift weapon buzzing in Bruce's ears caused his already racing heart to thud hard against his chest. Standing upright, Batman thrust his leg forward, the man grunted loudly in pain as the horned beast's talons ripped into his stomach. Bruce watched the man writhe upon the ground clutching his side crying out. Lowering himself to the ground he delivered a swift punch in the face and the man laid still upon the ground.

Standing back up Bruce made his way to the far end of the rooftop. The wind was kicking up again, he wondered if it would be enough to get him to Rachel and the boy. The brownish hue and mist made it hard to determine where he was, licking his split bottom lip, Batman made haste over to right side of the roof and dove off. Extending his arms he felt the tingle of the electrical current rush through the cape, it came erect and Batman soared through the air.

"Batman will come. He'll save us,"

"Don't peak . . .,"

Rachel absentmindedly fingered the trigger of the police issued gun with her thumb, her brow creased as she looked down on the shadowy figures moving in and out of the mist. She sat with her back against the brick wall, under her arm the little boy slept uneasily. His mind still fevered with horrible visions brought on by Dr. Crane's, Scarecrow's, fear toxin. Her free hand caressed his blonde head of hair in hopes that it would somehow ease his pain. There was little chance that it was doing that, though. Sighing heavily Rachel allowed her eyes wander the clustered buildings off in the distance. The screaming had become a melody of suffering and confusion, she knew the feeling all to well. If it wasn't for Batman --- or rather Bruce Wayne --- she would've been just another casualty of a madman of who got a kick out of watching people writhe with fear induced by his toxin.

"Wait! You could die. At least tell me your name,"

"Its not who I am underneath, but what I do... that defines me,"

"Bruce . . .?"

There was hardly any time to process what the Batman, Bruce, had just said to her. No time to bombard him with questions that surely get her nowhere. Why she didn't see it before baffled the Assistant District Attorney, it was so obvious and yet not at the same time. When she crossed Wayne's path for the first time he seemed shallow and self-absorbed. Stuck in his own little world, surrounded by his supple trust fund. The girls setting on top of each other, shouting for him to come along didn't help either. He hardly seemed that interested in her line of work, his dismissive comment didn't help her perception of him. In fact, she felt insulted by his nonchalant attitude.

This wasn't the same boy she grew up with. Everyone changes, she knew that much from reflecting upon herself and others she knew, but Bruce's character did a complete 180 on her. He was everything she hated about the wealthy; He flaunted his money, didn't concern himself with the troubles of society, and dated the shallowest women on the planet. This wasn't Bruce Wayne, this was someone else.

"Rachel --- all of this . . . I'm still me. I am more, underneath . . .,"

"Bruce, deep down you still may be that great kid. But its not who you are underneath, its what you do that defines you,"

The Bruce-impostor had the gall to actually try to convince her that he was the real Bruce Wayne, when it fact he wasn't. He was putting on a parade and they both knew it. She set him straight and watched briefly as the goofy smile fell from his face, then proceeded into the restaurant. It was a small victory she hoped would have that Impostor licking his wounds for a long time. Thinking back on it now, Rachel wasn't sure why she couldn't tell he was playing her for a fool, while at the same time trying to return to the company of her good graces. It didn't matter much now, he still wasn't Bruce even after discovering what, or who, he really was. There was hardly any time to put the pieces together, Rachel observed.

"How's your Mom?"

"She misses this place,"

"Yeah, but its nothing without the people who made what it is,"

Rachel rubbed her face roughly before tucking her hair behind her ears again. The Bruce Wayne she knew had yet to return, perhaps he wouldn't.

It was something she'd have to accept.

Suddenly, the screams of the narrows citizens sudden rose in volume. Rachel was jerked out of her thoughts when the boy let out a shuddering gasp and clung to her side for dear life. Something was coming. Rachel sat up a little straighter against the wall, her hands shakily removed the safety from the gun once again and she reexamined the surrounding area for any approaching danger. The sound of heavy fluttering echoed in her ears, she barely noted that the boy was trying to bury himself deeper into her side as she aimed the gun in the direction of the noise. Swallowing against the knot in her throat, she felt her throat close up in surprise at the horizontal figure that was approaching them at top speed. Right off she recognized the stubby horns that resided on the sides of the assailant's head.

She gave a yelp when Batman landed on the balcony of the fire escape mere inches away from their feet. Batman turned to meet her wide eyed gaze with a look of indifference. In the distance a loud roar could be hear approaching as well, the crazed citizens screams reached their high point as the tumbler rolled down the path crowded by fleeing bodies.

Rachel lowered the gun and stood up, the boy followed suit but refused to release her from his trembling death grip. Batman continued to regard them silently before casting a glance downward. Rachel scowled at the man as she tried to soothe the child against her with a simple caress of his head. Batman finally returned his attention to Rachel, his gaze softened a bit though he hardly looked trusting with the mask hiding his face. "Are you all right?" He inquired gruffly. Rachel nodded. "As well, as can be. What can you do about him?" She asked, gesturing the boy. Batman shook his head. "Nothing, except hope that the toxin can be reversed this long after exposure to it," The Bat answered bluntly.

Now there was something to laugh at. Had it not been a child they were talking about, Rachel would've done so without preamble. "Well, given what you told me before, its highly doubtful," Rachel retorted. Batman was unfazed by her harshness, he walked over to the edge of the railing.

"When did you plan of telling me about all this?" She asked. Her tone was softer, but lacked none of its edge. "Didn't you think I'd understand?"

"No," Was the answer that came from the crusader. "You wouldn't have understood, your only proving that point, Rachel." Dawes was slightly taken aback by the response, she continued to swallow against the knot that had yet to leave her throat. Batman moved away from the railing and approached Dawes and the boy, he watched as the child shrank back slightly when he closed the gap between them. Rachel near-retaliated when he grabbed her by the arm, leading her over to the railing. "Pick him up," He said. Rachel did as she was told and lifted the boy from the ground, he instinctively wrapped his arms and legs around her neck and waist. Batman pulled her closer to his body, he stepped up onto the railing and leaned forward. Rachel felt her heart leap into her throat as they plummeted downward. Their descend slowed, she realized he was using that grappling hook from before.

She grunted slightly when they landed on the ground, Batman pushed them toward the tumbler as the door rose and pulled away from its place. Rachel eyed the approaching bodies, wasting no time she entered the tumbler on the drivers side and fell into the passengers seat. Batman climbed in and the door closed above them. "Auto pilot off," The computerized made the boy jump in her arms but she kept her grip on him. "Hang on, this could be bumpy," Batman grunted. Rachel was wishing there were seat belts in this vehicle as it lurched forward at top speed. The crazed denizens of the Narrows fled for safety just barely, Rachel noted that Batman hardly grimaced when several of them were mercilessly shoved out of the way when their bodies came in contact with the tumbler. She cast a wary glance in his direction which he did not return, exhaling shakily she returned to comforting the boy who clung to her still. The ride --- if one could refer to it as such --- was short given the speed they moved at.

"Master Wayne," Rachel was taken aback by the sound of the Alfred Pennyworth over the radio. Batman cast a the young woman sitting next to him an equally cautious glance then averted his attention to the boy. He was completely oblivious to the voice that had spoken a moment ago, he laid unconscious against Rachel's side. "Go ahead, Alfred," Batman answered finally.

"I take it, you are aware the bridge is not lowered," Came the butler's voice again.

Batman cast a quick glance at the GPS then answered, "Quite aware."

"Shall I find an alternate route?" Alfred inquired.

"No, I've pretty much got this covered. I'll be home shortly," Bruce answered.

"To what's left of it . . .," There was a dry laugh on the other end.

"Right, until then . . .," Batman grumbled, remembering the this mansion was reduced a smoking pile of stone and ash.

Rachel continued to regard the man she knew as Batman with a look of mild amusement. She should've expected Bruce would not have left Alfred out of the loop when concerned with his nightly masquerades. It would be silly in the end, especially since they knew from experince there was nothing that could escape Alfred's ever-watchful eyes. "Where are you taking us?" Rachel decided to inquire. "If this route works, to Gotham Hospital," Batman answered briskly.

"Aren't you at least concerned about the authorities? They'll arrest you if they catch you," Rachel stated.

An almost synical smile crossed Bruce's thin lips, his lips parted in a manner that Rachel recognized when Bruce didn't want to smile, but only for a instant. The impassive frown returned. "They won't catch me," Batman said. The unbidden confidence laced in his words made Rachel wonder what made him so sure he would evade the police. Batman locked gazes with the DA again, a wry grin graced his thin lips. "They didn't before. Remember?" He insisted. Rachel raised an eyebrow, her memories of her second encounter with Bruce in his Bat persona was foggy and to be frank, she didn't want to remember. It would mean remembering Dr. Crane as well.

"Why did you bring me here?"

"If I hadn't, you mind would now be lost," Came the assertive voice.

" . . . Are you friends with Sargent Gordon?"

There was an almost regetabe expression on the masked man's face when he said, "I don't have the luxury of friends,"

In spite of the confusion that befell Rachel, he did not elaborate on his meaning. It was as simple as that.

There was a sudden lurch that sent Rachel against the seat of the tumbler. Batman never bothered to tell her to hang on, Rachel let out a shrill scream as the ground beneath the tumbler vanished, they sailed over the river below the Narrows bridge. Why hadn't she been paying attention to the what he was doing? Batman drowned out her screaming by watching the world fly past them in a technicolor blur. His head was spinning now, too many blows from Ducard it would seem, Rachel's screaming and the crazy man with his rusty pipe weren't helping matters. Bruce was sure that his wound had reopened again, too. The tumbler landed with a harsh bang that thundered inside the cockpit, Rachel held on to whatever she find as the vehicle fought to regain its balance while still moving at a frightening speed. In the corner of her eye she spotted several police cars and the officers themselves, they wore looks of disbelief.

The tumbler roared down the street without hindrance. Rachel exhaled and inhaled heavily as she looked down at the boy in her arms. He had not stirred in spite of everything, yet was trembling again. Tears ran down his face onto her trench coat. Batman let out a soundless breath of relief himself, the tumbler wasn't going to able to take this much more of this punishment in one night, he had to drop Rachel off soon. "How do you know the hospital's safe? Whatever happened in the narrows and in the city, happened in there too," Rachel stated. I don't, but he needs help. It was what Bruce wanted to say but Batman did not answer the woman next to him; He kept his gaze on the street ahead of him. There was no telling if the hospital was actually the safest place for Rachel or the boy to be, but if he remembered correctly, the hospital was a ways off from the downtown city district, so hopefully it received little or no damage when the microwave emitter was evaporating the water supply. Crazed hospital personel or patients was the last thing he wanted to deal with.

"Alfred,"

There was a moment of static before the elderly man's voice echoed inside the car again. "Yes, master Wayne?"

"What's the condition or Gotham Hospital?"

"It Received Minimal damage from the microwave emitter. Why do you ask, sir?"

"I need a place to drop Rachel off,"

"Miss Dawes, sir? I was under the impression she was still at her house," Alfred's monotonous tone harbored slight surprise and concern.

"From what I know, she gave Gordon the antidote when she was in the narrows. As for the rest, that's a mystery," Bruce cast a sort of reprimanding glance in his friend's direction. Rachel remained still under his scrutinizing gaze, she watched the world passing them by through the triangular windows.

"I see. Dare I suspect that Miss Dawes is with you?" Alfred inquired dryly.

"You suspect correctly, Alfred. Ms. Dawes is with us," Batman answered. "I shouldn't be much longer."

"Very good, sir. I'll be waiting," There was sharp click on other line, Batman released one hand from the steering wheel and turned the communicator off. Rachel listened to the leather upon his finger crinkle against itself as he reasserted his grip upon the steering wheel. She wasn't so sure she was comfortable with the idea of being left at the hospital if it had been hit by the microwave emitter. It couldn't possibly be a safe to place to bring a child who had been affected by the toxin, especially if people were suffering from the symptoms themselves. Biting the edge of her lip she tried to settle herself in the seat, her arms and legs were growing restless from sitting so still for so long. "Can . . . you just take me home? I can take of the boy there," Rachel said. Batman shook his head, as uneasy as he was about dropping her off at the hospital, the boy would be able receive proper treatment until Fox managed to create enough of the antidote for mass production. Hopefully. Batman was torn from his thoughts when Rachel's voice arose from out the background. " . . . Live right in this district . . . Batman! . . .," Her voice faded out again. She was still trying to get to her house.

When they finally reached the hospital Batman parked the tumbler across the street. The two said nothing to each other as the door slid back, Rachel climbed out of the vehicle first before to reaching over to pick the child out of the tumbler. Batman met her brown eyes, full of concern and masked hurt. "Be careful," She moved away from the tumbler and hurried across the street, Batman felt his lips frown at the lack of thanks from the DA. He supposed her small vote of caution was enough for now. Pulling away from the curb, Batman exhaled heavily. His headache was getting worse and given the way the body armor was sticking to his torso, his wound was bleeding. With no aspect of a bed waiting for him at the cave, Bruce prayed Alfred had something worthy of sleep ready for them.

That, some stiches and a really good painkiller.

(FIN)