Hello my readers. This is my first Batman story. Just a little oneshot that has been nibbling at me for months now, but I never got round to it. Well here it is! Nothing belongs to me, only Andrea Blake.

PS: Now revised and edited!

~IronstarGallifrey

Warnings: Blood, profanity, nudity, near rape, violence.

I hopped out the window and ran down the stairs of the fire escape, hot tears running down my cheeks. Kicking the ladder down, I climbed to the bottom and ran out of the alleyway to the sidewalk and down the street. I ran and ran. I couldn't stop running.

"Your so fucking stupid! Why the fucking hell can't you do anything right you little cunt!" my father yelled at my mother. I heard the distinct sound of him slapping her. I cowered away in my closet, the bedroom door locked, my hands over my ears in a futile attempt to block it out,

I ran harder, I had to get away, as far as possible. My father had been drinking a lot ever since he lost his job. He had been getting angry over little things, taking it out on whoever was nearest. Now there was an eviction notice on our door, and father was angry as hell.

I heard my mother yell, "Andrea, get out of here, don't let him hurt you!" My father was then pounding on my door, threatening to kill me if I didn't let him. So I ran to the window, before he could remember that there is a key to my door.

So I ran and ran, having no idea what to do. Eventually, I ran out of breath. I started walking, covered in perspiration. I could hear thunder crackle overhead in the Gotham night. It was hot, very hot and humid. It was always hot during summer in Gotham. Then in winter we get snow drifts and sleet.

I walked and walked, I have no idea how long I walked for. Eventually I reached a particular infamous place: Crime Alley. A lot of people have forgotten how it earned it's name. However, when I learned, I never forgot.

I was out helping an elderly neighbor with her groceries. Her name was Mrs. Kelly. She had no family left, so I often kept her company. She would give me five dollars any time I helped her with her chores and whatnot, and to a eight year old, that's an awful lot of money. I had grabbed a newspaper, and saw some man named Bruce Wayne on the cover, announcing his return.

"Hey, Mrs. Kelly? Who's Bruce Wayne?" I asked.

"A very sad story, my dear. Not too many people remember it." she replied

"Can you tell me it?" I requested.

"Very well darling." she said as she let us in to her apartment, my arms for of groceries. "Go ahead and put those away. I'll get some cookies and lemonade, we can sit at the table, and then I shall tell you."

I quickly and neatly put the groceries away as she grabbed some cookies and put them on a plate, whilst pouring some lemonade. We settled at the table and I grabbed a cookie and began munching in it. She began her story.

"Bruce Wayne was eight years old when his parents, Martha and Thomas Wayne, took him to see the Sword of Zorro. Afterwards they cut through an alley, not knowing what dangers lie there. There was a man with a gun. He demanded Martha's pearls, when refused, he shot Martha, then Thomas, right in front of their son. The man ran away, leaving Bruce to weep over the bodies of his dead parents. The police eventually arrived, but the man was never caught. Leaving Bruce alone with no parents, to be raised by a butler at his mansion. People eventually forgot, but I doubt Bruce has, and neither has the the alley. It has always been known since then as 'Crime Alley'.

I frowned, feeling bad for the man. I couldn't imagine losing my parents. However...

"But, he was rich! He even had a butler and a mansion. He didn't even get sent to an orphanage. So it isn't so sad, is it?" I asked

Mrs. Kelly looked slightly appalled, she then sighed,"It's easy to see it that way, isn't it? Especially from down here, when we have next to nothing. But just because he was rich, doesn't mean he didn't feel pain. I bet even now that he hurts every time he thinks of his parents. Every time he sees a child with their parents. Every time he sees a family."

I hung my head a bit, ashamed. "I understand."

I had never forgotten that story. It reminded me that everyone feels pain, no matter who they are. In that pain, is room for compassion. However, those morals were often shaken when I looked at the city I lived in, heck, the world I live in. Full of psychopaths and power crazed villains. It made me wonder if everyone was truly reachable.

I sighed as I slumped against the alley wall, trying to catch my breath. Well, at least I know where I am, so I could get back home. Home. My mind wandered back to the problem at hand. I wasn't just tired from running, I hadn't slept in the past night or so. I needed sleep, but I couldn't return to my own bed. Ugh, I am so screwed.

That's when heard footsteps, five, no, six people. Three from either side. I lifted my head to look at the present company. All men. All armed. Crowbars, bats, knives. Certainly not professionals, just hoodlums, but they were big, and well built. I was outnumbered and surrounded.

Oh. Shit.

"Hey pretty birdy, what's someone as beautiful as you doing in a place like this at this time of night?" Ugly number one called.

"Maybe she's looking for trouble?" Ugly number two snickered.

"Oh, she's definitely looking for trouble. And guess what, we're trouble." Ugly number three said. All of the other Uglies laughed at this. They were getting closer and closer. I didn't even have my cell phone on me to call for help, not that anyone would get here in time. I could scream for help. Not that anyone would answer. So I steeled myself, and tried not to cry.

I was beginning to realize how bad my outfit choice had been. It was a short light blue dress. It had spaghetti straps and padding in front so I hadn't even bothered with a bra. I was beginning to wish I had. It was short enough so if I bend over, it could be revealing, so I had bothered putting on some yoga shorts. Not that it was going to be much of a deterrent. Weapons, lets see. I had worn my combat boots, so when they shoved me to the ground, I can at least give a good kick or two, it wouldn't save me, but it'd certainly make me feel better. My hair was back in a low bun, so at least my hair would be out of my face.

They had reached me. They were laughing, hands were everywhere. I struggled. Trying to get out of their grasp. One slapped me in the face, another punched me in the gut, causing me to double over. One pulled me back up by my hair, causing me to scream in pain. Another one of them punched me in the face even harder. I was crying, sobbing uncontrollably. It had just occurred to me.

I'm going to die at thirteen.

I cried even harder.

My vision blurred by blood coming down from my forehead, I couldn't even see who grabbed my face, pulling it to his.

"Shut your whore mouth."

He then attempted to kiss me, to humiliate me. I wasn't going out without a fight. I bit his lip as hard as I could, drawing blood. He screamed into my mouth, trying to pull back. I bit harder. A blow to the ribs from a crowbar caused me to open my mouth to open into a scream. I fell to the ground, my back scraping against pavement.

"Stupid bitch, you won't get away with that."

I cough up blood, some of it dribbling down my cheek. Oh god, this hurts. I feel two of the guys pin my arms to the ground. I struggle, kicking my legs as much as I can, hoping to nail someone. A high pitched squal confirmed I had managed to kick someone in the family jewels. I laughed at the undignified sounds the guy was making. One down, five to go. A baseball bat to the leg silenced my laughter

I cried out as I felt bone break. Rendering my leg useless. My kicking had stopped. All my movements had stopped. I had reached breaking point, I was in too much pain now to do anything else.

The first thing to go were my boots and socks. Maybe to keep me from running away? Like I could run away. I don't know. I couldn't think straight anymore. I then felt cool steel against flesh, cutting my dress open. The knife trailed down in between my breasts, continuing down the center, over my belly botton, to the waistband of my yoga shorts. I felt myself bleed from the long red line left on my torso. I realized my breasts were now exposed, perking up at the fresh air. I tried to cover myself, but found I couldn't.

No sobs came from my lips now. I just silently let tears fall. This was going to happen. They were going to rape me, and then kill me.

'I'm only thirteen!' the panicky side of my brain screamed, 'That's too young for all this. I can't die this way.'

'Yes, you can.' the more logical side of argued, 'People die like this all the time in this city. You think age makes us any different? You are going to die naked and violated in an alley. Your mother and a few others will mourn you, then move on. That just the way it is.'

I closed my eyes, turned my head and took a deep breath. I accepted it.

I felt the knife tug at the side of my yoga shorts, this time not cutting me. Just enough to cut them off. As I felt myself lying there, only in my panties, some survival instinct in my brain activated. There was no thought, only a call.

"PLEASE, HELP ME!" I yelled with any energy I had left.

That earned me a knife in the thigh of my previously uninjured leg. I cried out in pain as one of the attackers plunged it into my flesh. I only cried out louder as her pulled it back out.

"I thought you had learned your lesson, slut. Keep your cock suckin' mouth shut!"

That was it. That was all I had left. I felt his fingers slip under the waistband of my panties. I winced as I tried to prepare myself for the inevitable.

That's when I heard the voice. The deep gravelly voice that struck terror into hearts of criminals, and brought hope to the defenseless. The voice of the Batman.

"Step away from the girl."

"Go to hell!" one of the Uglies yelled at him.

I didn't see the fight. It didn't last long anyway. All it was is a few cries of pain and shrieks that should have belonged to little girls coming from full grown men. Then it was over. There wasn't a single sound from the alley.

My mind wasn't comprehending what was happening. I should have died in that alley. I should have been raped and killed, just like so many others had been in this god forsaken city. But no, for some reason fate decided to have the Batman intervene. For me to live. I did all I could do. I sighed in relief.

I opened my eyes, but my vision was now even more obscured by blood. But I could still hear, I heard his boots coming towards me. I suddenly became very self aware of my nudity. If there was any blood left to rush to my cheeks, I certainly would have blushed. I tried to move my arms to cover myself, but found myself nearly crying out in pain when I tried. No sound came out of my mouth, only blood. I was fairly sure I had a dislocated shoulder on one side and a sprained wrist on the other. So I could only lay there, embarrassed, in my smiley covered panties as Batman walked over to me. He kneeled beside me.

"Don't try to move, you will only aggravate your injuries. The police and paramedics have already been called. They are on there way. Until they get here, I am going to stop some of the bleeding."

I nodded a little bit, wincing in pain. I am guessing he pulled some medical supplies from the Batmobile after beating the living crap out of the Uglies that attacked me. He went to me head wound first. He wiped the blood off my forehead, then out of my eye. It was only then that I got my first good look at Batman.

Obviously the first thing I noticed was the mask. It should have made him look ridiculous, instead, it was terrifying. I couldn't see his eyes, there were some sort of white lenses block them out. I looked down at his chest, seeing the black Bat symbol on grey body armor. It wasn't hard hard to tell under all that armor he was really built. This guy trained. A lot. I then looked at the one bit of him that wasn't covered, his mouth. He was scowling, he looked pissed off. I wonder if he always looked like that.

Speaking of looking, I felt the sudden need to cover myself again. Despite the Batman's instructions, I tried to move my arms again. Only to groan in pain, causing me to cough up more blood. Batman had just finished with my head wound. He quickly grabbed my arms, gently enough not to hurt much, but with enough force to prevent me from moving.

"You need to stop moving, you are going to hurt yourself fur-"

He suddenly stopped talking, took his hands off my arms and unfastened his cape and covered me with it. I smiled up at him in silent thanks.

He then checked my neck and back.

"You don't appear to have any spinal injuries. I am going to sit you up so you don't choke on your blood."

I nodded my consent. He propped me up against the building wall. The cape began to slip down my chest. He quickly caught it and fastened it behind my neck. I leaned over to the side and spit the remaining blood out of my mouth. I took a quick look around.

All six of the Uglies were laid out across the alley. Parked outside of the alley was the Batmobile in all her glory. By Batman was a full med kit, open and in use. Shouldn't the police and paramedics be here by now? As if to read my mind, Batman spoke.

"It may be a little bit till the emergency services arrive, it's a busy night. It's always a busy night."

With all of the blood out of my mouth, or, to the point where I was no longer choking on it, I was able to speak. Though it did hurt a little.

"Okay."

He looked up at me as he tended to the knife wound on my leg. I guess he was surprised that I was able to speak. Though he certainly didn't show it. The only emotion he showed was 'pissed off'.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Andrea Blake." I replied.

"How old are you?"

"Thirteen."

He did give away some emotion at that, even though it was for just a second. He grimaced. I guess my age did matter.

"Where are your parents?" He asked, with... was that apprehension in his voice?

"At home." I took a deep breath, I had been hiding what was going on at home for months, but I knew, if I could tell anyone, I could tell him, "Ever since dad lost his job, he's been getting drunk. He's been beating up me and mom. Tonight he got real pissed because of an eviction notice. He started beating the crap outta my mom. She told me to run. So I did. That how I got here."

A sudden realization hit me, I left my mother at home, with him. I burst into fresh set of tears, panic taking hold.

"Oh my god. Why did I run? Why did I leave her alone with him? What have I done?"I cried, sobs wracking my body.

"Calm down. What is your address? I'll send the police there."

"The address is 54483 Elk Street, apartment 5B. Will the police get there in time? I've never seen him this angry before " I stopped for second. "What if he kills her. No he can't, I need my mom!" But if this night had proved anything, it was that there were no exceptions due to need or age.

He looked me in the eye, having just finished the patch job on my leg. I could hear the sirens approaching.

"The police will be here soon. Tell them what happened, not just here, but at home. I'll go your apartment. I promise once I'm done with your father, he won't bother you or your mother again."

He stood up and ran to the Batmobile.

"Wait, Batman! Your cape!"

He turned to me, "Keep it."

With that he jumped into the Batmobile and drove away.

The police and ambulance pulled up.

I told them everything.

I went to the hospital.

They had to do surgery, I was bleeding internally.

The surgery went well. I recovered perfectly.

My mother had been in the hospital as well, she was fine.

The same couldn't be said for my father, Batman had messed him up real bad.

After we were all out of the hospital, father was put in jail, 30 years. He died there.

Me and mother live in peace for the rest of our lives. All because of Batman.

The only thing I wish, is that I had thanked him.

"So, is that enough for your story?" I ask the reporter. She had been silent throughout the entire story. She had been doing a story for her website about how Batman had saved lives and how he changed Gotham for the better.

"One last thing, did you ever see him again?" she asks.

"No," I reply, "Save for news reports and the occasional mass terrorism that he had to save the city from. That was it."

She walks over and shook my hand,"Thank you Mrs. Blake."

I shake my head "No, thank you. It's important kids these days realize what the Batman did for Gotham, the world and random citizens like me."

She beams at that, then takes her leave, closing the door behind her.

I sigh, and get up and lock the door. There were a new generation of heroes around the world. Even a new Batman, but he wasn't the same one who saved me. People didn't really remember the ones who came before. My husband did, before he passed away.

he had a good long life. But my kids, and their kids, they often forgot. Such was the thing with generations. Time wasted away at history, and things that shouldn't be forgotten, often are.

I walk over to chest in my bedroom closet. It was full of old trinkets. Things that were precious to me.

I opened it and held the old black cape.

I would never forget the Batman.