Hi! This is my first Dark Knight fic, and I'm really excited to see how it turns out. I've been playing with the idea of writing one for a while. I'm sort of making the story up as I go along, so I'm definitely up for suggestions if you guys would like to see something happen.

Please Read and Review!

Summary: Mollie is living successfully in Gotham City... she's alive. Quitting school and running from home, Mollie lives on the streets with the only friends she's ever known. When those friends are taken, she's alone. But not for long. Her savior gives her a place to belong and something to live for. Under his guidance, she learns what it takes to survive in Gotham. With him, she's safest from the terror of Gotham, himself... The Joker.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that is copyrighted. Mollie is mine though, as is anything you don't recognize.

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Mollie hissed as she pulled her shirt on over the barely-healed cuts, the bruises on her ribs and abdomen giant purple and green blobs of pain. She looked at her reflection in the grubby mirror. Mollie thought she was a plain girl; she was five-foot three, and there wasn't much to her but her fair skin covering her bones; but she didn't have a disorder of any kind, she was just one of those naturally thin girls. Her long, slightly wavy, dark brown hair hung limply to her shoulders, shining dully in the weak light that streamed through her window. Mollie tucked a strand behind her ear. Her light green eyes were the only parts about her that she liked. When she was happy, they shone with a light buried deep inside her; a light that rarely come out because it was shadowed by the beatings and the bruises. Gone were the days where she could wear tank-tops and t-shirts. She had to hide her bruised and battered arms now, because there was no way she could keep blaming her own clumsiness for the ever-increasing number of dark splotches that decorated her thin arms.

"Mollie!" a voice called. "You're going to be late!"

Every day, Mollie's mother called the same morning greeting down the hall from the kitchen. Every day, Mollie was late to school. Mollie slipped on her old, beat up sneakers and gingerly pulled her book bag on to a sore shoulder. Her father hadn't spared any inch of her last night.

She entered the little kitchen and found her mother peering at herself in a small compact, applying make-up around her eye, covering up a newly-acquired shiner, by the look of it. Mollie didn't say anything, but grabbed a piece of toast on her way out. Mollie and her mother didn't talk about the abuse. It seemed to Mollie that her mother thought that if they didn't talk about it, it never happened.

Out on the street, Mollie breathed more easily. At home, she had to watch what she said and did. It was like living on a knife edge, a very fine one at that. Outside, she could be free from the constraints. Outside, she could forget about the pain and loneliness that she knew in the back of her mind she would have to return to.

The final warning bell rang as Mollie walked up to the small public school. She didn't hurry though; late was late. She slipped into class four minutes later, ignoring the disapproving glance her history teacher gave her. She carefully leaned back in her seat as the teacher got back on topic; it was about the industrial revolution. Yawn.

Hours later, which felt like a lifetime to Mollie, the dismissal bell rang out. Clenched in her hand was a report card, with a note from the principal scrawled on the bottom. Mollie's grades had begun to drop. She knew this, but she didn't care. School was useless in this city; it wasn't going to teach anyone how to survive here. As far as Mollie was concerned, Gotham City was Hell on Earth; half the city was packed away in Arkham and the rest was on its way. The crime rate was through the roof, no matter what small dent the Batman made. School wasn't going to teach her how to find the honest policemen, nor was it going to tell her the secret of staying alive while Arkham's newest escapee, The Joker, was running free in the city once again.

Most people Mollie knew didn't watch the news anymore. There was only so much horror and destruction a person can take in a lifetime, and if that person happened to live in Gotham, they got ten times that amount – if they didn't get killed in some explosion or caught in the crossfire of a gang shootout before that time.

Her feet had taken her reluctantly back home without any conscious thought. Mollie shut the door behind her with a soft click. She set her book bag on one of the kitchen chairs, and threw the report card in the trash. For seventeen years, she'd done what her mother wanted. Once she started school, her mother pushed her to be the best. She would tell Mollie that if she did well in school, she would be free to leave and make something of herself out there in the world. And Mollie believed her. She studied late into the night, rewriting notes and going over extra homework problems. Mollie was going to leave the life she knew behind her, the life of living paycheck to paycheck and having to sell possessions for a few extra bucks.

Then a year ago happened. The Joker made Gotham his new sandbox, destroying the city like a bully jumping on some poor kid's sandcastle. Mollie saw how the rich and powerful crumbled in his grasp, and decided that moving up in the world was just as dangerous as staying where she was, abuse and all.

Mollie went to her room and fell down on her bed, groaning as her lumpy mattress prodded a bruise painfully. She shifted and the pain receded. Closing her eyes, Mollie watched the sunlight that shone through the yellowing curtains on her window make patterns dance across the inside of her eyelids. Her mind went blank as she watched the hypnotizing designs swirl back and forth.

What felt like only moments later, someone knocked on her door. Mollie sighed and pushed herself up. "What?"

"Mollie Lauren, we need to talk," her mother said, opening the door. Mollie knew she was in trouble for something; her mother had used her middle name. In her hand was a crumpled piece of paper, and Mollie recognized it with annoyance. The report card. "What is this all about?"

"Nothing," Mollie mumbled to the floor.

"No, it's not 'nothing'. How long has this been going on?"

Mollie shrugged.

Her mother sighed angrily. "God, Mollie, I thought you wanted out. I've been putting you through school so you could, and this is how you repay me? Failing grades in all your classes and detentions for being late every week?"

Mollie stared determinedly at a spot on the floor, a swirly knot in the wooden board by the bed. "It doesn't matter where I end up. I'll probably just get killed just the same," she muttered.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Mollie finally looked her mother in the eye. "Because, if you haven't noticed, Mom, we live in a hellhole! More people get killed here in a day than in a month in a war-torn third-world country! There's nowhere to go but six feet under – and that's if you're lucky enough that they can even find your bod—"

"Mollie Lauren! That is enough! I want you to go get your backpack and start your homework."

"No."

"No? I don't believe there was a choice. Go do your homework!"

Mollie was about to reply when an angry voice yelled from down the hall. "Will you two shut the fuck up?! Or I'll give you something to shout about!" Her father, red-faced and smelling strongly of alcohol, appeared in the doorway. "Deb, I told you I was going to sleep. Is it too much to ask for a little peace and quiet in this house?!" He grabbed his wife's shoulder, spinning her around, and slapped her hard in the face. Mollie winced, looking away. "Is it, Deb? Is it really too hard for you two to stop your bitching at one another so a man can have a peaceful moment?" Mollie risked a look, and saw her father's face mere inches away from her mother's, and his back to her. Slowly, Mollie reached for her shoes and slipped them on. Careful not to make too much noise, she stood up and braced herself to dash to the kitchen.

She almost made it past. With unbelievably quick reflexes, her father's hand struck out and grabbed her bony wrist, pulling her back. Mollie cried out as his fingers cut off the circulation to her hand, creating another bruise with his vice-like grip. Anger bottled up from having to take this kind of attention for as long as she could remember spilled over. With something akin to a war-cry, Mollie swung her captured arm, and was rewarded with a string of loud curses when she struck his hand on the corner of the doorframe. He instantly let go but made to grab her again. But Mollie was already in the kitchen, tossing her books haphazardly out of her backpack, leaving only her money and her extra jacket inside. She threw her backpack over her shoulder and wrenched open the door.

Mollie didn't stop running until she could hardly draw a breath. She was blocks from home, and planned on putting even more distance between herself and it.

Darkness fell rapidly, but the city was bathed in yellow light from the numerous street lamps, building windows and signs, and billboards. The only reason Gotham had a nighttime was because the clocks displayed PM. Mollie wrapped her arms around herself as she walked, hunching her shoulders up as if it would help keep her warmer. She passed a dark opening between two buildings.

"I'd be getting home soon, if I were you, Miss," said a voice in the darkness. "It's not as safe to wander the city at night… again."

Mollie stopped and whirled around. A thin, scruffy man stepped out into the light. He watched her calmly.

"I don't have a home," Mollie said automatically.

The man nodded understandingly. "Well, now, why don't you stay with us?" He gestured toward the alley that he'd been sitting in. Another younger man joined the first, and he was followed by a woman, who was carrying a little girl on her hip. "We don't have any place where we belong either."

Mollie looked at the family, and then smiled, nodding. The little girl struggled in the woman's arms, and the woman set her down. She went up to Mollie.

"I'm Polly," she said, looking up at Mollie.

Mollie knelt down. "I'm Mollie." The little girl smiled and took Mollie's hand. Mollie was led into the little alley, where a small fire was burning in a barrel. Crates were set around the barrel, and more were stacked on a wall. The young man took another crate down from the stack and placed it in the circle with the others. "We're glad that you decided to join us, Mollie," he said. "My name is Will; this is my girlfriend, Gina. You already know her younger sister, Polly," he said with a smile. "And this old man here is Tom. He took us in, like you."

Tom chuckled and sat on a crate. "We have a duty to look out for each other in these hard times," he said with a sigh. "That loony clown's back out there somewhere." He settled back against the alley wall, tipping his battered hat down over his eyes. As he fell quiet, Gina handed an old, thin blanket to Mollie with a warm smile. Mollie leaned back against her crate, watching Polly settle down with Gina. Will set his crate nearer to the entrance of the alley.

"Are you a look out?" Mollie asked quietly.

Will smiled softly. "Yeah. Can't be too careful, like Tom says."

Mollie nodded, readjusted her blanket, and, using her arm as a pillow, slowly drifted off to sleep to the light snores of old Tom.

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so whaddya think? personally, i think it's shaping up to be pretty good, but i'd like to hear what you think. so, if you could drop me a review, that'd be awesome! i guess we'll just put it out there now: i, like nearly every other writer here, am a review whore. i need them. and, the more reviews i get, the more likely i am to update faster!