A/N: Sorry this took so long to update, writer's block got in the way. So enjoy…

Finding One's Feet

Like other royals and heads of state, my life in Corte Maltese was one built around schedules. There were luncheons and reviews, visits and speeches, parades and parties. During the war, it was the only semblance we had left of our old lives. And like most people, there were times that I'd be bored with it all. You'd think that once I married Bruce that I'd be relieved to be free. In fact, the first few days I was in Gotham, I felt so…liberated…to have all the time I could ever want to myself. But that quickly died down. For another feeling set in…that of boredom. At least with the structured life, I had something to do. As we say in Corte Maltese; nothing makes the Devil happier than idle hands to play with.

It also didn't help that Bruce was rarely, if ever, around. Muttered something about Wayne Enterprises keeping him too busy when I asked him about it. And while I was very fond of Alfred, he refused to let me help him cook or clean the penthouse. He said I was Bruce's wife now and that I didn't have to do it.

So I was left with the only thing I could do, practice and play my violin. I loved the sweet and sad sound as the bow glided against the strings. The best part about it was how easily I could lose myself in the music, taking me home. I would think of Maestro Gregory, my instructor and mentor, patiently helping me.

One afternoon, I found myself playing a song I hadn't played in a long time. It was The Cellist of Sarajevo by David Wilde. While it had been originally composed for cello, Maestro Gregory had adapted it for string quartet. It was the last piece we played together. Before he…

While I was playing, I got the strange sense that I wasn't alone. Or rather, that someone was watching me. It wasn't a bad feeling, more of like a sympathetic and moved feeling. The soft perfume, smelling of white flowers, told me it was a woman. I decided to finish the song before seeing who was there.

Standing in the doorway of my bedroom were a man and a woman, both were roughly Bruce's age. She had long brown hair, curling past her shoulders. Her big brown eyes reminded me of a doe's. She was modestly dressed in a knee length black pencil skirt and a loose crème blouse. The man was tall, with a chiseled face, blue eyes and blonde hair. He was dressed in a very nice suit.

I recognized the woman immediately. Bruce had told me so much about Rachel Dawes.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt you." Rachel said.

"No. Not at all!" I smiled, putting my violin down on my bed. "I was finished anyway. I trust you're Rachel?"

She smiled. It was just as pretty as Bruce had described. "I see Bruce has already told you about me. I just wanted to stop by and introduce myself."

"It's nice to meet you too." I shook her hand, nearly leaning forward and kissing her cheeks, just as we do in Corte Maltese. She looked at me funny before I remembered that Americans don't do that to strangers they just met. "Sorry, I forgot about that."

"What do you mean?" Rachel asked, cocking her head.

"I nearly greeted you as we do back home. We kiss both cheeks in greeting."

"That's no problem at all!" Rachel turned pink, apparently more embarrassed than me. Fortunately, she cleared her throat and changed the subject. "This is my boyfriend, Harvey Dent." She introduced the man next to her.

"Mrs. Wayne." Harvey held out his hand, smiling.

"Please, call me Grace. Besides, I kept my maiden name, tradition back home." I said, remembering where I had seen him. "You're the District Attorney for Gotham?"

"That's correct. So you play violin?" Harvey smiled. I can see why Rachel fell head over heels for him.

"Yep." I smiled, putting my instrument lovingly back into its case. "Started lessons at six or so, performed for a few years with the Royal Symphony of Corte Maltese."

"That song you were playing…what's it called?" Rachel asked.

"The Cellist of Sarajevo, it's by David Wilde."

"Oh wasn't that the song played by the guy in commemoration of some victims of a grenade attack?" Harvey asked.

"Close, Wilde heard the story of the cellist and was inspired to write the piece." I said, remembering my manners. "Why don't we go out into the living room? It's a little more comfortable than here."

"Sure, why not?" Rachel said with a smile. I led the way, and then remembered to offer refreshments. It had been a very long time since I had entertained company. Not surprising why, considering I lived in a war torn country. Parties and celebrations were the first things that went away.

For an hour or so, Rachel, Harvey and I laughed and talked over lemonade. It wasn't surprising that I liked them immediately. Rachel asked me about my interests and about life before the civil war. Harvey made me laugh with his stories about various people he had met. All the while though, I noticed how they doted on each other. How Harvey and Rachel smiled at each other. How they held hands. How they finished each other's sentences.

A small part of me ached. I longed for that. I longed for Bruce to look at me the way Harvey looked at Rachel. To hold hands with Bruce as Rachel was holding Harvey's hand. To even finish each other's sentences, like we used to back in the days we lived in Corte Maltese.

He was my husband; even if it was to get me out of Corte Maltese. The feelings still lingered after Harvey and Rachel left for a court appearance. Then I thought of something my mother once told me. Love is a two way street. True, Bruce hadn't shown much affection to me. But what had I done for him? If you show affection, you will gain it.

So what should I do? I thought as I picked up the empty lemonade glasses and entered the kitchen. It was every gourmet's dream kitchen, large with every instrument and appliance I could think of. The pantry and fridge was stocked full with every single ingredient. I remembered a risotto recipe that Bruce and I used to enjoy at the villa…I hadn't had it in so long.

Just my luck that Alfred had stepped out for his day off…

A rich smell filled the penthouse when Bruce stepped in. He meant to make himself a sandwich to eat before going off to the bunker and investigate Lau. Lucius had confided in Bruce that he had good reason to believe that the Hong Kong businessman was involved in fraud. That and he needed to pick up a couple of things for the bunker.

Whatever Alfred was making smelled so good…wait a minute, it was his afternoon off. And it also smelled like the tomato and artichoke risotto that he and Grace used to have…

Sure enough, Grace was standing at the stove. Her back was to him. She was humming something. "Grace?"

"Oh! You surprised me!" Grace said, turning around. An apron was over her jeans and t-shirt. "I wasn't expecting you back until later…"

"That's fine." Bruce cleared his throat, taking off his charcoal grey suit. "That's uh, that's the risotto we used to eat right?"

"Yeah. I hadn't had it in so long and I thought to have some. I should've asked first, sorry." Grace said, pushing a long strand of hair back over her shoulder.

"No! Not at all! It's your penthouse too!" Bruce rushed. Grace did take the time to make risotto…maybe Lau could wait a little while. "How much longer until it's done?"

"About five more minutes. Why do you ask?"

Bruce smiled at Grace as she added some chopped artichoke hearts. "Because I'm going to have lunch with you."

"The risotto's good." Bruce said, swallowed a spoonful of hot rice.

"Not bad, considering I haven't made it in a long time." I said, breaking a piece of take n' bake bread over the rice dish. We were sitting at the breakfast bar, enjoying our lunch. "Wish I had time to bake the rosemary bread we used to have."

"Maybe tomorrow then." Bruce said, wiping his lips. "Besides, risotto by itself is filling." For a little while, we sat in silence. This was the first time in a long time that Bruce and I have been truly alone. We had the whole penthouse to ourselves. "So…how was your day so far?"

"Good. Rachel and Harvey dropped by. They told me to tell you hello."

"Oh." Bruce looked a little surprised then there was another look. Was it disappointment? Anger? I couldn't really tell. He then changed the subject. "How are your parents?"

He didn't want to talk more about Rachel and Harvey. I let the matter drop. "I'm going to talk to them later tonight."

"But they're doing well?" Bruce asked.

Now it was my turn to get uncomfortable. Of course things weren't well. I had checked the news that morning and there were reports of the rebels surrounding the capital. No food or water was getting in; save by whatever airlifts that was able to get past the anti-aircraft fire. It was only a matter of time…

For a while, we were silent, unable to speak to each other. Strange to consider that six years ago, we were laughing over risotto at the villa. I missed that. I wanted to talk with Bruce about everything and anything like we used to.

"Risotto was good." Bruce wiped his lips, putting his empty bowl in the sink. "Thank you, Grace."

"You're welcome." I said, watching him pick up his coat and leave. Well…that was a start. I thought as I washed the dishes and put everything away. True, we didn't get back in touch. But it was a start. That's it. I promised myself to do one nice thing for Bruce every day. It didn't have to be something fancy. That should get things rolling. My good mood was getting better and then a new number came on my cell. I answered it. It was Rachel.

"Hey Grace, I just found out something interesting from Harvey. You know the Gotham Opera Company?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"They're looking for new musicians for their orchestra and auditions are tonight at six. We were thinking that you should audition."

My heart began to race in excitement. I missed performing with the Royal Symphony. But there was a problem. "I don't have a way to get there. Alfred has the rest of the day off and Bruce is busy at work."

"I can take you. Harvey's good friends with the coordinator, he's already put in a word for you."

I thought about it for a moment. Well, if I got in, it would give me something to do instead. I was getting sick of being cooped up in the penthouse all day… "Auditions are at six, you say?"

True to her word, Rachel came to pick me up at a quarter to six. And to make things better, the Opera House was just three blocks away from Wayne Tower.

"Will you ok by yourself here?" Rachel asked as she dropped me off. "Because I need to work late tonight. But if you want me to stay and wait, I can tell Harvey…"

"No, it's fine." I said, picking up my violin case. "But can you pick me up when I'm done, please?"

"Of course, give me a call and I'll come get you." Rachel smiled. "Break a leg, honey."

"Not literally!" I laughed as I got out of car and headed into the ornate Opera House.

Walking into the Opera House was like stepping back in time. The inside and stage had been designed off the Palais Garnier in Paris. Elegant arches. A sweeping staircase. Lifelike murals. I was excited as I followed the posted signs to the auditorium. Very excited. I had my music prepared and ready to go, tucked in a portfolio under my arm. It played in my head, just as I had practiced so many times.

The main auditorium had a good number of people already there, sitting in the plush red seats. I got nervous. I had a lot of competition. But if I didn't get in, it wouldn't have been the end of the world. Good thing I also had a book tucked under my arm.

I filled out the auditions sheet, careful to use my middle name and my mother's maiden name in place of my real name. I didn't want to attract attention to myself, besides, it looked pretty doubtful I would get in. Sitting down, I opened my book. But it was really hard to read. Because I kept getting the feeling that I was being watched. After a while of ignoring it, I finally looked up to see who it was.

There was a woman sitting on the stage along with the coordinator and director. She was very beautiful, curvy in the right places with sun kissed skin, straight blonde hair and wide blue eyes. Dressed in a black evening dress, she was looking at me suspiciously.

"Excuse me," I tapped the shoulder of the woman sitting next to me. She looked up from her sheet music. Her thick glasses, green eyes and fizzy red hair reminded me of an owl. "That woman sitting on the stage, who is she?" I asked.

She looked over. "Oh, that's Hope O'Malley. She's the prima donna for the opera company."

"Oh wonder why she's looking at me like that." I said, flipping a page in my book.

"She looks at everyone like that when she's in a bad mood. So don't take it personally. Although…you do look a lot like her."

"Like who?" I asked, feeling myself get sick. Had I been recognized? I had taken great care, dressing in nice black slacks and a loose white blouse but keeping my hair in a loose ponytail.

"Grace Montello. You don't read the gossip columns? Hope was dating Bruce Wayne, before he suddenly dumped her and married the princess. It was getting pretty serious; Hope even bragged that Bruce had asked her to move in with him."

"Oh…gotcha, yeah I don't read the tabloids. I think they're nothing but trash."

"Thank you for agreeing with me. Personally, I don't get why people read them." The woman sitting next to me said. She smiled and held out her hand. "I'm Ursula Anderson, by the way."

"Andrea Schmidt." I said, shaking her hand. "You're auditioning for clarinet?" I asked, pointing to her rectangle shaped case.

"Yep. Been playing since middle school. You play violin?"

"Andrea Schmidt?" The coordinator's voice finally called out my name.

"Hey, break a leg." Ursula said with a smile. We had talked about so many things, more like Ursula talked and I listened.

"You too." It felt so good to have a new person to talk to. We had exchanged phone numbers and promised to keep in touch even if we didn't get in.

I got up on the stage, ignoring Hope's stares and following the coordinator to one of the practice rooms. Inside was just a music stand, a piano and three chairs. The director was waiting for us. "It's nice to meet you, Ms. Schmidt." The coordinator shook my hand, "I'm Paul Freeman, the coordinator."

"Nice to meet you." I said. "And you're the director?" I asked to the other man there.

"Yes, Isaac Josephs at your service. What will you play for us today?" He said, sitting down.

"The Cellist of Sarajevo by David Wilde, adapted for string quartet." I gave them the sheet music.

Mr. Freeman pushed his glasses up as he read it. "Roman Gregory?" His bushy eyebrows slowly arched. "He was the chair violinist and coordinator for the Corte Maltese symphony, wasn't he?"

"Yeah, I listened to the benefit concert where this was first played." I put down my case and began unclasping it. The less said, the better.

Mr. Josephs nodded but said no more. "Then play for us, Ms. Schmidt. No need to be nervous. We don't bite."

I chuckled at his joke before putting the bow to the strings and playing. The slow and sad notes filled the room. As I played, I thought of Maestro Gregory leading the little string quartet in the darkened symphony hall where this was first played. At the time, the war was in its infancy.

We were playing a benefit concert for the survivors of a hospital that had been bombed. The Cellist of Sarajevo was what we played second to last, right before the whole orchestra played the Anthem of Corte Maltese, as we traditionally did to end each concert. It was so jarring, going from a somber haunting piece to a lively patriotic anthem.

Now, four years later, I was the last surviving member of that little quartet. Giac, the violist, was drafted into the Royal Army and was reporting missing in action. Maria, the cellist, was killed by a sniper as she was crossing the street. And Maestro Gregory…he was killed when his house collapsed after being struck by a mortar. Other members of the symphony had been scattered to the winds. Dead. Wounded. Missing. Fighting. Trapped. Fleeing. Just like I had.

The piece ended like a slow and soft breath. There was no applause. Mr. Freeman and Mr. Josephs were looking at me sympathetically. A tear rolled down my cheek. I had been so lost in my sad thoughts that I hadn't noticed that I was crying. "Excuse me, this song moves me every time I hear it."

"It's ok." Mr. Freeman said, standing up. "Although, you aren't really Andrea Schmidt, are you?"

They caught me. "Well it is. Andrea's my middle name and Schmidt is my mother's maiden name. I'm sorry for the deception but I didn't want to draw attention to myself."

"It's understandable. We won't say anything. Although Harvey wasn't lying when he said you were a very good violinist."

"Thank you. By the way, what tipped you off?"

"I had my suspicions until you passed me the sheet music. It's for second chair violin, not first as most violinists would do at their auditions. You played second chair in that quartet if I remember right." Mr. Josephs smiled, shaking my hand. Mr. Freeman did the same. "Well, I think you're what we're looking for. Will you be free tomorrow afternoon at two to come back for rehearsals?"

"Absolutely, I don't have anything else to do so I'll be back. And thank you." I said, exhilarated.

"Come into the auditorium and we'll get you set up and welcome to the Gotham Opera Company, Andrea." Mr. Freeman said with a smile.

"Thank you, thank you so much!" I left the music room, excited. I got in! Finally! I would be playing music again! And they were going to let me play as Andrea Schmidt! My secret was safe! I was so excited that I wasn't watching where I was going and nearly bowled headlong into Hope O'Malley. "Whoops! Sorry, Ms. O'Malley, I didn't see where I was going."

"Oh that's fine…Grace." She smiled at me, but it was as authentic as a counterfeit coin, as we say back home. "Don't deny it. Your face has been plastered everywhere." I kept my composure, remembering that I didn't need to give her any cause to bully me further. As I moved past her, she called out to me. "You can't ignore me! You might be in our orchestra, but I'll make sure everyone knows who and what you really are!"

Tears burned in my eyes, but I ignored her as I walked to the nearest door. It led to the alley outside. It was true and I knew it. Who was I to fool? I leaned against the wall and cried. She knew. Good God, she knew. Now my whole life was going to be miserable. Just when I found an escape…no. I brushed my tears away. I was going to get through this. My face became cool, composed, a court mask. Nobody will know my pain. Nobody will know anything. Eventually she'll get tired and leave me alone.

I know I should've gone back inside and called Rachel. But I didn't want to be around Hope O'Malley. And I remembered Rachel telling me that she was working late. I didn't want to bother her. And besides, Wayne Tower was three blocks away. I knew how to get there.

Batman was hiding in the shadows of the alley, watching Grace as she composed herself. He had come here to reflect, the place where Joe Chill massacred his parents. It wasn't until Grace came outside, crying, that he had forgotten that she texted him with the news about auditioning for the Opera company.

Something had upset her. No doubt it was Hope. Part of him was relieved when Grace agreed to marry him, at least he didn't have to put up with the prima donna's dramatics anymore. But she no doubt was going to take out her anger on Grace, if she hadn't already.

Batman watched as she began walking down the alley. It was nine in the evening, the sun had long gone down but there was still light through the street lights and the buildings. People were out and about in the downtown district, arguably one of the safer parts of the city.

But it still made him nervous. Grace was smarter than this, so what was she doing…? He vowed to make sure she got home. She left the alley, turning onto the sidewalk. Batman followed her, staying high above. One block down. Nothing happened. A man in a hoodie got closer. Batman couldn't see his face. Two blocks down. Wayne Tower was right there and nothing had happened…yet. Grace seemed oblivious as she went to the side utility entrance. The man was closer now…

I was about to slide my keycard through the side reader when a hand grabbed my ponytail. "Hey!" I cried out, gasping when I saw the knife blade.

"Shut up…" a man hissed behind me. Oh my…WHACK! The pressure and knife went off my neck. I shivered as I turned around. There was a large black shadow beating the punk to a pulp. What the…?

Within seconds, it was all over. The man lay on the ground, unconscious. The shadow looked down at him, as if daring him to stand up. The shadow was tall, large, swathed in black. A cowl covered his head, two points sticking up where his ears should be.

"Batman…" of course I recognized him. The whole world had been riveted by the events of last year, when the fear toxin had taken over…how we all debated if Batman was friend or foe…

He looked at me, his eyes dark. "Go inside." He rasped.

Shaking, I slid the card through and ran inside. Oh my God…what had just happened? I shook as I took the utility elevator to the top floor. The penthouse greeted me as I stepped out. For once, I was glad to be back there. My room…the only place I felt safe…I went into my room and closed the door behind me. My whole body trembled. Oh my God…

I was so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I jumped at the sound of my phone ringing. It was Rachel. "Hello Rachel." I answered it.

"Grace! Good God, are you ok?!"

She must've heard my voice. "I'm fine." I said, trying to calm myself down. "Just had a bit of a scare that's all."

"What happened?!"

"I walked home…didn't want to bug you…got jumped….Batman saved me."

Rachel paused before beginning to scold me. "Grace, what in the world were you thinking?! Gotham isn't exactly the safest place for anybody to be walking around in, especially at night!"

"Yeah I know. Last time I'm ever doing that." A beeping came over my phone. It was a new call. "Hey Rach, can I please call you back? I've got a call coming in."

"Ok, but you call right back."

"Yes Mother," I tried to joke as I answered the new call. It was a blocked number.
"Hello?"

"Princess, count your days numbered." A voice warned ominously. "You will pay for the crimes of your ancestors…"

"What?! Who is this?! Hello?! Hello?!" I yelled. But they hung up.

Oh my God…I hadn't been the victim of a random mugging then…

Bruce stepped into the penthouse. The cops had taken the mugger in. Normally, he would've moved on during his patrol. But he needed to see if Grace was ok. No doubt she was really shaken.

"Grace?" he knocked at her bedroom door. There was a sobbing noise coming from behind. Oh no… "Grace?" he opened the door. Grace lay on the bed, shaking and crying. "I heard what happened, are you ok?"

Grace wiped the tears away from her face, struggling to regain her composure. "I'm scared Bruce. I'm really scared."

Feeling sorry for her, Bruce hugged her, feeling awkward. He couldn't remember the last time he had hugged Rachel when she was upset. Grace rested her head on his chest.

I didn't say anything to Bruce about the phone call; I didn't want to worry him or anybody else for that matter.

Looking back on it now, maybe I should have.

A/N: So what do you guys think?