A/N: So, here we go. This is my sequel to "No Stranger".

CHAPTER ONE

Luck runs out

"911, what is your emergency?"

"Err yeah, there's a woman outside my house making noise. Talking to herself, yelling. I think she has a dog with her, a real big one. One of those Dob....."

"Your address?"

"1011 Montgomery Lane. This is a good neighborhood, or used to be. This city has gone to sh.....oh wait she's screaming now. Can you hear her over the phone? 'Alex' she's screaming. Okay, now she's sitting in the middle of the street. Get someone here quick. My wife is scared to death."

"Sir, are you inside?"

"Yeah. I ain't going out there. She's either on drugs or crazy...or both. Don't want to be a pussy but with everything that's happened in this city you can't be too careful."

"Staying inside is a good idea sir. I have police and paramedics en route. Go ahead and give me a description of the woman in case she runs away."

"Can't really tell. Too dark to be sure. Long hair in a ponytail. One of those green army jackets. Jeans. Christ can you hear her? She don't sound good. Just keeps yelling 'Alex' over and over. Ah....ah...ok yeah. She's got the dog in her lap. She might be hurt...I don't know. Just tell them to hurry."

"They're en route sir. Just stay inside."

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"Ok honey. You're gonna be all right. You're okay."

"No," she gasped. Even that one word was a struggle to get out. Each breath, each scream sent excruciating shards of pain through her body. But still she struggled. They had her now. She'd run and gotten lost and now they had her and now.......now....

"Do you have any ID on you? We need to know who you are so we can notify someone."

The paramedic's voice was soothing from years of dealing with the injured and distressed but it didn't work on her. If anything it made her fear deepen. She strained against the bonds, eyes rolling wildly.

"Let me go. Please. You. Don't. Know." The words seared her throat. It hurt so bad but they had to know they couldn't keep her. If he came for her, if he found her in this ambulance they'd all die. She was sure of it.

"Shit, she's going into cardiac arrest. Get the defibs on her. Hurry!"

Darkness oozed into her vision, gradually blotting out the paramedic's face. The pain began to recede and she managed a grateful sigh. She didn't notice the EMTs cutting her shirt off, didn't notice the looks on their faces when they saw the marks on her flesh. The darkness devoured all and she was falling, falling.

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She wanders the back streets of Gotham, just another addict in a sea of them. In another time she had been somebody. People had known her, she'd been on the news, in the papers. Now she was a ghost.

He was gone now, killed by his own designs. And when he had died she had been left to roam. All her fears had been realized after his death. She hadn't been able to snap out of it, hadn't been able to carry on. He'd made her weak in life and weaker still in death.

And so here she was.

The other junkies shied away from her, especially when she talked to him. They said she was crazy. They said she was that woman, the one who had taken up with a psychotic terrorist. Samantha.

But she wasn't that person anymore was she? No.

She makes her way to her favorite spot, an out of the way little alley that offered some privacy. To her relief it is unoccupied. Having company while she shot up ruined the ritual.

It was funny really, how nothing had been right since he'd left. She'd never given herself time to think about things, instead jumping into the arms of heroin only days after his death. Snorting at first, then the needle beckoned. After that there was no looking back.

She settles back, digs the syringe out of her coat pocket and pushes her sleeves up. As the needle's point hovers over her vein a hundred mocking thoughts flit through her head.

'Heroin Sam? Really? My, you really are just like your Dad aren't you? Except weaker. All the years you fought and fought.....only to wind up like this.'

'I guess I didn't fight hard enough did I? Besides, I don't care anymore. Nothing is the same. I'm not the same.'

She injects herself, eyes rolling back into her head as the drug enters her system. This was the moment, the shining moment that made it all worthwhile. For a while she can forget the hunger, the sickness, the shame and loneliness.

When her eyes focus she sees beauty where before there had only been the lurid ugliness of the streets. It has begun to snow and she is reminded of a night long ago. Lying in the snow, bleeding out and not caring. A figure over her, beautiful and terrible.

'I've given myself too much,' she thinks but is not bothered by that thought. Nothing is right anymore. Not since he went away.

"You're dying Sam. Do you want to die?" A voice, low and mocking.

She looks around to find the owner of the voice but there is no one around. Just her and the snow and the streetlight.

"I...yes. I do," she whispers through cracked lips. "I can't anymore. Can't do this."

A hushed laugh, barely heard over the blood rushing through her head. "I know ya can't. Knew it all along. So come on."

"I can't see you. Where are you?" Her eyesight is going, blackness swallowing the night, the snow, the city. She tries to rise and stumbles to her knees. A frigid wind whips at her hair, blowing snowflakes into her eyes. Her head lowers. The drugs are messing with her. No one around. Alone. She drops her head in despair.

"Right here. Right in front of you. Look. Look at me."

She does, blinking tears away.

And there he is. Silhouetted against the darkness, bloody lips curled in a smile, blacked-out eyes regarding her coldly.

A shiver of adoration and horror goes through her and all she can think is 'He came back. He came back for me.'

"I said I would, didn't I? Hm? I told ya Sam....I'll always be there. Always." He's reading her mind, like he always seemed to do in life.

"Yes," she whispers thinly. "Yes. You did."

And he was a man of his word. Always had been.

He extends a gloved hand to her. For a few seconds she stares at it, then raises her eyes to his. He is still smiling and the sight is the best thing she's seen since he died. No, nothing had been right since he left. Nothing.

She takes his hand.

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"There we go. She's coming back. Hey honey, you're okay now. We're gonna take care of you. You're gonna be okay."

Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused and bloodshot.

"You're still alive. See the light? Alive."

For a moment she felt relief, then the horror set back in and she began to scream, heedless to the pain it caused.

A/N: A lot of this was inspired by a song. "Don't fear the reaper" by Blue Oyster Cult. Anyway, I'll try to update as much as possible. Doubt I'll be as prolific as I used to be because I'm using someone else's computer.