She walked in the door of her penthouse apartment, high above the Gotham streets. She removed her heavy bag from her shoulder and her press pass from around her neck. It was a long day at work. Usually her job only requires her to stay out so late for the mundane social events. Tonight, however was a big night. She was helping her best, and possibly her only friend, cover the latest Batman events.

" No matter what the police said happened tonight" she thought aloud to herself, "I just don't believe it was him." The events played out in her mind over and over again. She walked around her empty place, soaking up the silence and the sounds of the wind at her balcony door.

Suddenly, Lela heard a loud slam come from the outside of her apartment. She slowly approached, wondering what could have gotten up this high and fallen down. The closer she made it to the tinted glass sliding doors of the terrace, the farther down her bottom jaw hung. Only one word slipped from her lips. "Batman?" He laid limp, limbs tangled around one another, breathing heavily. As she went to open the door a million little words rushed into her mind. Murder, vigilante, danger, powerful, killer. Yet, no matter how many good reasons her mind presented her with, she knew he was in need. She stood still above him, trying to examine him from a safe distance. It was clear that a small bullet was jammed into his abdomen. A loud clap of thunder raged in the sky above the them. Without hesitation she began to drag him into the safety of her home. "God, what are you, two hundred and ten pounds of pure muscle?" She had to use all of her strength to drag him into her home.

Once she managed to get him in and settled, she ran to her bathroom and searched franticly for her emergency medical care kit. Once she returned to his side, she thought hard about her next move. Will she, or wont she take off his mask. It would be a huge bargaining chip for her career. A one way ticket for her to get out of the social pages, and into the real news. She slowly raised her hand up to the mask, and paused. She didn't have the courage. In Lela's head she knew he was a good man, or monster, who was saving Gotham from the scum. In her heart she knew that she owed the suspected murderer just a little more. She moved her hand away from the mask and began to repair the Batman. She knew she was doing the right thing, she hoped.

She worked for an hour or so. It might have gone a little quicker if she removed the suit, but she promised herself she would not think of it again. She would simply work around it, trying to maneuver the stitching needle around in the small hole left in the suit from the bullet. When she was done she started to clean up, trying to leave no trace of the masked man around her place.

After everything was bagged and cleaned she just sat next to the large man, wondering why he was still out. It didn't look like he lost much, to any blood. She went to check his heart rate once more when suddenly, a hand rose to greet hers. It was firm, yet very gentle as it held her wrist tightly in place.

"Where am I," the Batman blurted out in a raspy, harsh tone.

"My Penthouse, I found you on my balcony. You were shot, but everything's okay now."

She went to lay her spare hand on his chest to comfort the vigilante. The dark crusader jumped to his feet quickly, trying to regain his balance and sharp reflexes.

"How long was I out?"

"More than an hour or so, I think. I didn't take the mask off or anything."

He moved very close to her, in hopes she would become frighten of his tall, strong stature compared to her petit frame.

In a hope to show him that she didn't think of him as a threat, she reached out quickly and squeezed his side that she just repaired. He tried to hold back the pain, but couldn't help but flinch. He grabbed her hand again in the same gentle manner.

"ENOUGH!"

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to show you that you are actually hurt. The stitching should last you long enough to get it looked at properly."

"What are you, a doctor?" She seemed oddly familiar.

"No, my parents were. They worked at Gotham General. I'm Lela, Lela Price. I work at the Gotham Tribune. I put everything in a bag for you."

His deep eyes shot her a puzzling glare.

"I really don't need the Batman's DNA hanging around my apartment, too tempting in my line of work."

He nodded his head in agreement with her, clearly not understanding the joke she was trying to make. He was deeply intrigued by her lack of fear. He never let himself entertain the idea of being attracted to a woman. Maybe it was the recent loss of Rachel that caused his iron guard to be let down. He examined her in their silence. Her deep gray eyes looked right through him, like she knew who he might be under the rubber and dark eye paint. Her dark brownish red curls flowed then rested on her pale skin. He knew he had to leave before he got carried away. Batman was strong, but Bruce was weak, and might want to find immediate solace in the woman who helped him.

"Go, she whispered."

He gave her a blank look.

"GO," her voice snapping him back to reality, "don't you hear the sirens. You have to hurry and go!"

She turned to look at the clock, for just a second, and when she turned back around, he was gone. She walked out onto her terrace to find him gone. Not even one trace left of the caped crusader.

"Just like a man, not to say thank you." She sighed heavily wondering if she was in a crazed dream. She defiantly was not.

As she ran her fingers threw her tangled curls and knew she had to help him. She needed to prove the innocence of the Batman. Yet for some reason, she didn't know why.

…

Bruce sat in his room, overlooking the sparkle of Gotham city in the light of sunrise. Who was she? Why did she help me? A hundred questions flooded his brain.

Her name rang a familiar bell in his mind, but he couldn't place all of the pieces in order just yet. All he could think about were those gray eyes. Never before did gray eyes seem so beautiful. He made the decision that he had to get to know her; to know if she could be trusted. She helped Batman once, and maybe she would help him once more, or better yet, help Bruce. He knew he had to go down to the Gotham Tribune and see her. It was his paper after all, so he already had a reason to visit unexpectedly. First he had some research to do about this Lela Price.

…

She sat in her office, watching the press conference on her TV. She had met the District Attorney and was shocked by his death. No matter how many times Gordon claimed it was Batman, her heart told her different. She could not condemn him. Why is everyone forgetting all the good he's done here? How can they so quickly cast him aside? It was all very puzzling to her.

She had to block the words from the television out of her mind. She sat at her desk and began to go over the latest social events. She hated her job. Following Gotham elite around like a pathetic fan, learning intimate details to sell to the world. She knew she had greater things in her then that.

Suddenly her assistant, a young man who looked twelve and had enough femininity for the both of them, burst into her office.

"Ms. Price you have a visitor!" It was clear he could hardly contain his excitement.

"Joel, how many times must I ask you to knock before you burst into my office while I'm working?" She didn't even raise her eyes from the computer screen as she typed away franticly.

"Sorry, are you busy? I could come back."

She knew that voice, handsome and bold. She looked up to find Bruce Wayne in her office door way.

"Mr. Wayne," the shock was apparent in her voice, "what brings you hear?" "You may leave Joel, and hold my calls."

Her assistant fluttered out of the room and back to his desk. She stood to greet the tall, dark, and overly handsome man who presented himself before her.

"To what do I owe this pleasure, Mr. Wayne?"

"Please, call me Bruce, Ms. Price." He grinned boldly.

"Well Bruce, only if you can manage to call me Lela. So, what can I do for you today? It's not often I find my bosses boss stopping by my office, let alone the owner of the paper. Please, have a seat."

"Thank you Lela." They both sat and leaned in to engage in what the other had to say. "I've noticed you work recently, and have to say I'm very impressed."

"I would hope so, it is mostly about you. You and your," she gave him an awkward glance, "girlfriends?"

He laughed at her statement. "True, but there's more than just that. It's like… a refined talent."

"Well Bruce, I'm actually surprised you noticed, or even read my section of the paper at all."

Her face was painted with genuine surprise. She sat back in her chair and raised her brow at him, trying to figure him out.

"I like to make sure all the work sent out under my family's paper is quality work, Lela. And might I add, I do like the name you write under. 'P. Rice.' Cleaver."

She shot him a discerning glare.

"I couldn't help but think you're name sounded familiar to me."

"Well I would hope so, Bruce. We have met before." His face shifted into deep alarm.

"Oh don't worry, you shouldn't remember, it was so long ago. Our parents worked together at the hospital. My Father and yours started a few non-profit organizations together, before Wayne enterprises rationed them off a few years ago in your absence. We were about eight when we were introduced at a gala, for early onset diabetes I think it was."

"Were we now?"

"Yes we were Mr. Wayne."

"Bruce."

"You still never answered my question. To what do I owe this visit?" He voice became slightly stern.

"I actually have to run, but I'll send a car to pick you up at your place, around 5 pm tonight for dinner. We can talk then."

"Sorry Bruce, I don't get off till 6."

"I don't think we'll have a problem with that. I know the boss." He shot her a wink and a charming smile.

She turned her face trying to hide her smile and when she looked up he was gone. What the hell was that? Why do tall handsome men like to sneak away from me when I'm not looking? I don't know what he has up that wonderfully tailored sleeve of his, but I won't bite. She continued her work and decided she needed to see where this could go. Was Bruce Wayne looking to talk business, or about to make the woman who wrote and publicized his dating life just another name in the black book.

Her assistant popped back into her office, giggling away.

"So, Lela, what did he want?"

"It's Ms. Price Joel, and he just had a few comments about the publication."

"Oh about the publication, riiiight. Is that why the dashing Bruce Wayne asked for your address and informed me to tell you to dress casual tonight?" He gave a taunting smirk and continued with his frantic giggles.

"Get the hell out." She was clearly annoyed. Her voice was tense as she hid her embarrassment.

"Have fun writing about yourself tomorrow!"

"So help me God, I'm going to fire you."