Disclaimer: I only own Elizabeth and the kid.

Chapter One- "Becoming the Legend"

Batman flipped the card through his fingers, smearing the blood across the waxy surface of the joker's grinning face. He leaned back further in his desk chair and removed his mask. Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose in between the corners of his eyes as he stifled a yawn. It had been the third time the Joker offed someone, and still he hadn't cornered him. The murders were done too sporadically; there was no rhyme or reason, at least none that he could perceive.

"But no one kills without purpose."

"More coffee, Master Bruce?" Alfred bowed slightly with the tray held before him like a sacrificial offering.

"Yeah, that sounds great, Alfred, thanks."

Alfred leaned the kettle over Bruce's empty mug, letting the steamy liquid run gently down the inside of the cup to pool in the center. "Interesting thing, the television," Alfred began as he topped off the cup and set the kettle back down on the tray, "You know, just tonight they were reporting on your Joker case. It seems every victim had been a student in medical fields, at one point or another."

Bruce looked up in surprise at Alfred, though his wise and well-timed words were frequent enough to cease amazement by him. Alfred gave him a trusting smile and disappeared into the hallway. "Do try not to let that blood get on anything," he called over his shoulder.

So there was a pattern. Bruce mused over this fresh outlook as he carefully sipped at his coffee. Alfred had left it black, which was how he liked- well, just about everything. He flipped the TV on, but the report was over, and they had moved on. But the point had been made, and taken to heart. The police had made the connection, and Batman would likely have the least amount of trouble getting details from Gordon. He replaced his mask once more, and slipped out of the mansion into cold, dark Gotham.

Somewhere in the back of his mind it bothered him that the police knew more about this case than he did. He was supposed to be a legend, a symbol for the evil in this city, not just some pawn of force. He couldn't keep taking directions to the final showdown; he had to make his own map.

Then again, no one man was an army. Every person's different perspective could fit another piece in the puzzle. But as Batman, Bruce would have to use his resources to act faster.

Batman landed on Gordon's porch with a whisper of fabric. It was two o' clock on a bleak Sunday morning, and everyone would be asleep. Batman picked up a stone and ricocheted it off the fence where Gordon's dog lay sleeping as well. Betty's head snapped up, and she began barking viciously when she smelled the stranger. If they kept meeting up like this, old Betty would become savvy to his games, but for the moment the purpose was performed. He'd figure out new details when the moment arose. He could hear the movements inside the house, someone grumbling about the stupid mutt. He made a show of his cape passing over the window, and he knew one of the occupant's saw. There were footsteps now, and he didn't have to wait long before Gordon barreled out through the front door.

"Taking the night off, Lieutenant?"

"I'm far too tired for witty repartee, Batman."

"I'll keep it short, then."

"This is about Joker."

"Why would he be interested in killing people who studied medicine in the past?"

"More specifically, he's been targeting psychiatric students." Gordon sighed and leaned on the banister, "You're a powerful being, Batman, but you still have a lot to learn about being a detective. While his victim's were dying from laughter due to a chemical imbalance, their houses were searched. That's why the crime scene always looks like a hurricane hit it. It wasn't that they put up a fight, that man was searching for something."

"What do you suppose he's searching for?"

"No idea. But I'd like to know who this guy is. Get a visual, get his background information, and you solve a lot. It's clear though that he's hiding out. Hitting people with only history of that field of study instead of hitting professionals really slowed us down. Like he wasn't ready to show his face. But it looks as though he's not getting what he wants. Which is why-," Gordon turned to face Batman, but ended up responding to a vacant porch, "We've got to keep our eyes on the big fish now," he finished, shaking his head and returning to bed. "His exits might just get irritating after awhile. If we end up working together that long."

Batman smiled as he listened to Gordon's grumbling retreat from the top of the roof. He always did seem to have a knack for getting on people's testy sides. But keep them distanced, and you won't fall when they do. Batman stood up, and stretched his vision across the gothic landscape. Lights like Christmas bulbs flickered and flared, blazing to life, or being quickly snuffed out. Like the anxious occupants of the streets, who scurried along as they tried to glance over their shoulder without looking paranoid. Soon, he hoped, there would be no need of that paranoia, or the acute fear that panged the soul when an individual hopped on a bus occupied by someone that eyed them with far too much interest, or when someone knocked into them on an empty sidewalk with a flash of something metallic at their side. The question was no longer, "could they be saved?" Now it was, "how long until hope could be rebuilt in the mind?" Despite Gordon's best efforts, too many people still saw Batman as a new threat. Dr. Jonathan Crane's 911 call about him a month ago had made an already rocky situation a downright landslide. The fact that he had slipped out the back certainly hadn't helped him.

But just as Alfred never gave up hope on Bruce, now he could not give up hope on his efforts. Given time, he would accomplish what he had set out to do. There would be no exceptions. He pulled out a cell phone, flipped it open, and pushed redial. He heard the click of a receiver and didn't wait for a greeting, "Alfred, I need you to give me a list of names of the top psychiatrists taking residence in Gotham."

"Right away, sir. Ah, what show tunes would you like to listen to while you wait?" When he was answered by silence, Alfred shook his head and replaced the receiver. "I'll call you, then."

After taking note of the two names Alfred came up with, Batman leapt off the roof, flicking his cape out to cup the air and propel him on the currents of a reluctant breeze. Middle and upper class families were becoming scarce in Gotham, and while there were plenty of patients for any type of doctor, there weren't many who wanted to take that chance. His own family's misfortune took partial responsibility for the drop in residence. The very people they helped turned against them, who next? Such whispers were also what helped drive him away. Maybe sometime during the day Bruce could think about visiting these doctors on more businesslike terms. Maybe not- it wouldn't look good in the tabloids. Though while things getting more out of hand than his birthday tantrum were diminutive, if he didn't start cleaning up his act his business colleagues would stop taking him seriously. In that case, though, seeing a shrink might help his image. He could see the headlines now, "The Batman Stifles the Joker's Laugh", and then on page eight (or maybe even five this time), "Gotham's Brat Cleans Up His Act".

But, top priorities must be acted upon first and foremost.

Batman had arrived at the list's first address. Dr. Elizabeth Lee, who lived in an apartment a fair walking distance from Wayne Enterprise. Batman could see a soft blue light emanating from around a door frame across the room where he had slipped in through the window. It was the nicer part of the city, but the security still left much to be desired. He glided across the plush carpet and shot a quick glance into the other room. A woman in her late twenties sat in front of a patient computer, resting her head on folded arms, her steady breathing revealing slumber. He slipped into the room, standing behind her as he pressed the power button on the PC. The sudden lack of light startled her awake, and he gently placed a hand on her shoulder. She jumped and gave a tiny squeak of alarm.

"You have no need to fear me. I'm here to warn you about a serial killer targeting psychiatrists. He's being searching for something, but I don't know what it is. If he comes to you, I want you to tell him what he wants to know, and I want you to know I'll be close by if you need me." He stepped back, and she turned around to look at him. It seemed like several minutes before she could finally form a word.

"You setting me up for bait, Batman?"

"He'd be after you whether or not I came. And I would be after him whether or not I was watching your back. I need to know what he wants, so just do whatever he asks. I won't let him kill you."

"Well… thanks."

Batman shook his head, "Not yet."

Elizabeth nodded her head. A soft voice from another room interrupted them, and she departed to comfort the child. When she returned to her office, the only movement was the stack of papers whispering softly from the wind caressing them from the open window.

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