…It was Ramirez…

Smoke rose high into the blue morning sky from the still smouldering embers of the day before. It had been a day that no one in the city would forget. Any lingering façade of peace or stability had been torn down by a single man, and the people of Gotham had been shown something that they had spent many years denying; criminals were in control.

And they were getting worse.

Crowds still surrounded the site where Gotham Central used to stand. The people stood in silence as they watched the rubble being slowly swept away, and they reeled when each body was dragged out. These people were in shock.

It was a shock that had spread across the whole city – streets were empty, parents afraid to let their children out alone. Even in the darkest parts of the city there was a sense that things had gone too far.

And yet, even in these desperate times, when people's lives had been threatened and terror had spread like wildfire, in the battle for Gotham's soul, it was the people who had won. They had refused to sink to the level of their tormentors. They had risen above their fears.

But that was yesterday, and the memories of their victory were already fading. Lives were beginning to return to normal, and the people who had been so noble were now clamouring for someone to blame.

On the outskirts of Gotham, the evacuees from Gotham Central had congregated in an old abandoned warehouse. The warehouse stood as a reminder of the depression which had strangled the city ten years earlier, just one of the businesses which had been forced closed. Many of these buildings had been bought up by other companies since then – most often by Wayne Enterprises during its years of aggressive expansion – but many more remained empty.

The sick and injured sat huddled together on the floor, while the few doctors and paramedics who had followed them tried to treat whoever they could. Scattered around the entrance to the warehouse, the ambulances and the school buses which had been used in the evacuation stood empty. The room was eerily quiet, save for the occasional moan of pain.

One figure sat alone beside them, away from the crowd. Anna Ramirez was hurting. It was a pain that ate away down to her soul, and no matter how hard she tried she couldn't shut it out. She sat on the ground and leaned against the outside wall of the warehouse with her legs curled up against her chest and her head resting on her knees. Her jet black hair, usually tied back, hung loosely down to her shoulders, and hid her face.

She heard the footsteps coming towards her, but she didn't look up.

"Hey", a voice said close to her. She felt a hand touch her shoulder, and she slowly turned her head upwards. A man stood over her… one of the paramedics. When he saw her face, and the still open cut down her forehead, his face filled with concern. "Looks like you need stitches", he said as he knelt down in front of her.

Anna leant her head back against the wall and closed her eyes as he started to treat her wound. She flinched as the stiches pierced her skin, but she savoured the pain, and tried to use it to distract her from her guilt.

After a few minutes, the Paramedic stood back and looked her over. While he'd been applying the stitches to her face he hadn't been able to see her expression, but now that he had stood back he saw that she was almost in tears. "Hey", he said softly. When she didn't react, he knelt down in front of her. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

She slowly turned her head to face him, and smiled weakly. "No", she replied, but her quivering voice betrayed her. She shook her head, and tried to shake herself out of the state she was in. "No, I'm fine", she repeated, her voice now more assured. She stood and looked into the overcrowded clinic. Though they'd salvaged as much equipment from the ruins of Gotham General as they could and brought it here, they were still under equipped and overcrowded.

Anna heard the sound of an engine approaching from behind. Another ambulance was slowly driving up towards the warehouse. It stopped maybe ten yards from where Ramirez stood. She watched as the paramedic who had been driving got out of the ambulance and moved around to the back. He opened the door, and four men climbed out. They were dressed in SWAT outfits, but they looked dazed, as though they barely knew where they were.

The man who had treated Anna looked at her, and he must have seen the expression on her face. "Just cuts and bruises", he said, reassuringly. "They were just in the wrong place and the wrong time".

Anna nodded, slowly. "How come these people can't be moved to another hospital?" she asked.

The Paramedic sighed and sat back. Anna hadn't paid him much attention until then, but she noticed the bags under his eyes, and the tired look on his face. "The other Gotham Hospitals are barely able to cope with the sickest of our patients", he replied. "There are over a hundred people here, I know, but it's barely half of those who were pulled out of Gotham General before it went down. Those who need the most urgent treatment took priority. The rest – like you, and these men – are mostly just cuts and bruises, maybe a broken bone here or there, which we can deal with here".

Ramirez nodded. That might explain why she couldn't see her mother there. She'd been worried… that they hadn't got her out before it happened. With everything that had happened to her – the things that she'd sacrificed and the people that she'd betrayed – she hadn't had time to find out about her mother, but now that things seemed to be over, she was close to panic. "Is there a list?" she asked. "Or any way to find out where a particular patient was taken?"

The paramedic stood, and smiled. "Sure", he breathed. "Follow me". He offered his hand and she took it, using it to help her stand up. He led her past the group of SWAT members, who had stopped close by while the paramedics worked on them. As they passed by, she felt her guilt grow – she didn't know exactly how these men had been injured, but she knew that it must have been in the line of duty. She avoided their gaze as she walked past, sure that if they looked her in the eyes they would be able to see her betrayal of everything they stood for.

They continued through the maze of abandoned buses, and stopped outside one of the dozen or so ambulances which had been left outside. Anything that could be moved had been stripped out of them, and had been used to turn the empty warehouse into a makeshift clinic. The paramedic climbed up into the back and then extended his hand toward Ramirez, smiling. She smiled back, though she had to force it, took his hand, and allowed him to help her up into the ambulance with him.

"The network is still working", he said as he pushed his way to the front of the ambulance. "All the information about our patients is on there". He climbed into the driver's seat and Ramirez sat down in the front passenger's seat. "I'm John, by the way", he said quickly before flashing her another smile.

"Anna", Ramirez replied. She watched him as he accessed the network from a small device next to the steering wheel. His face was contorted in a frown as he worked, and his hands were clumsy, and he often mis-hitting the key pad or made mistakes. Ramirez was anxious, but she forced herself to wait patiently for him to finish.

"What's the patient's name?" he asked without looking up.

"Julia", Ramirez answered quickly. "Julia Ramirez".

She saw his eyes dart to the side towards her as she said the name before they quickly shifted back to the screen. He entered the name, and then sat back. "It'll take a couple of minutes", he told her. "Is she a relation?"

Ramirez nodded vacantly. She stared out of the passenger window at the crowd of people around them. "My mother", she sighed. "She has bad cancer. I did… a lot of things I'm not proud of to get the money for her medical bills. I don't think I could handle it if she didn't make it out of Gotham General".

Why had she told him that? She didn't know – perhaps she needed to tell someone, and John seemed like he wanted to listen. Still… she regretted it the instant the words had left her mouth, and in the awkward moments of silence which followed, Anna was sure that John would start to ask questions which she knew she wouldn't be able to answer.

But the questions didn't come. Instead, John sat back in his chair, sighed and closed his eyes.

"When the cops found out that there was a bomb in a hospital, they told us straight away", he said. "The office sent the call out to every ambulance in the district. I was out alone – we're not meant to go out on our own, but my partner had a kind of emergency. Anyway, I heard the call come over the radio – 'There's a bomb in a hospital. We don't know which one. All units return to base to help with the evacuation'.

"You know what I did?" Ramirez shook her head, slowly. "I went home". John looked at her, shame in his face. "I went home and I slept. Hell, so there was a bomb in a hospital –it wasn't my problem, right? The cops would deal with it. I'd been working for fourteen hours straight, and I needed to sleep. And I thought that was more important than doing my part".

He stopped talking for a while, and the two sat in silence. Eventually, Ramirez was the one to speak. "So… what? You're ashamed?" she said bitterly. "You should be. You could have saved a life, and you didn't. I can't forgive you, and I wouldn't if I could". Anna knew the words were cruel. She was saying them to herself as much as to him.

John's face contorted as the guilt flooded over his face. "My point is", he said softly. "Everyone makes mistakes. Some people – like me – make big ones, and people suffer because of them. But we can't go back and change anything; we have to live with what we've done. I, for one, plan on doing everything I can to help people from now on. You say you've done things you're not proud of? So what are you going to do about it?"

Ramirez closed her eyes. "I don't know", she admitted. "Every time I close my eyes I see the faces of the people I've hurt, and I don't know if I can cope with it".

Suddenly, she was interrupted by a beeping sound coming from the device in the ambulance. John leaned forward and hit a few buttons. "It's found your mother", he said. "She's in Robinson Community, in South Gotham".

Relief flooded over Ramirez, and she started to cry. She wiped her face with her hands, and tried to hide her tears. John watched her crying, but he didn't move to comfort her. "Look", he said eventually. "Maybe you should take everything that's happened as a sign. You've been given a second chance, so make the most of it. Hell, you should be thankful that all you got was a bang on the head, and the Batman didn't kill you like he killed the others".

Ramirez's brow wrinkled up as she processed what John had just said. The Batman? Where had that come from? She was about to speak, to ask him what he was talking about, to tell him that it was Harvey Dent who had attacked her, when there was a loud tap on the windshield of the ambulance. It was Stephens. He still wore the same wrinkled, grumpy face that he always had, but now he had added a bandage around his neck where the Joker had cut him with his knife.

Ramirez wound the passenger window down. "Hey", she said softly, though inside she was dreading what she knew was about to happen.

Stephens smiled weakly. "Anna", he said. "The Commissioner wants to talk to you, and I don't think it'll wait".

Anna closed her eyes. This was it, she thought.