Disclaimer: I do not own DC Comics or characters associated with DC Comics. I only own my OCs.

Author's Note: Thank you to those who reviewed: LeleChaos, SerenityMoonlight, Vanafindiel, and Crissana Collins. I want to especially thank Vanafindiel for the extensive review filled with helpful points.

Sub-Note: I want to apologize for the late posting, I posted chapter one the night before I left for a seven day Alaskan cruise. Tonight, I'm posting chapter two, but I will not update till at least Sunday-I'm counseling at a camp for a week.

Sub, sub-note: I enjoy bringing in comic book characters. (Just a small hint)

Clocking out for the day, Regan left the department. Remembering how close Mangoli's was, she decided to walk. There was no point for her to hail a taxi to ride five blocks that she could easily walk. Regan took in the sights and smells of the business district. She smiled to herself; her sister wouldn't be caught dead walking one block, let alone five blocks. Sibling rivalry was still rearing its ugly head, but why? Why did it matter after so many years?

Twenty minutes later, she found herself in front of Mangoli's, and she was three minutes late. She entered the eatery and surveyed Mr. Fox sitting at a booth with another man. Regan cautiously sauntered over to the two. Mr. Fox greeted her formally, "Detective."

"Mr. Fox." She acknowledged smoothly. He let her slip in beside him. "Detective, Mr. Wayne invited himself to our lunch. I hope that's alright."

"Yeah, it's fine." She flashed the businessman a smile.

"Lucius, I didn't invite myself. I recall you invited me so it wouldn't be awkward." Regan laughed at the playboy's remark. Fox smirked and turned to address her, "How's the first day?"

She sighed. She didn't care that Wayne heard her open a can of irritation. "The unit is pathetic. No wonder they put me in charge." She paused and shook her head in disbelief. "I bet Batman's responsible for all the arrests. These detectives, if I can call them that, don't do crap. There's no filing, no order, no nothing." Bruce's ears had perked up at the mention of Batman. He was amused at her fiery passion to fix the unit and slightly perplexed. He couldn't place it, but he'd met her before.

Fox picked up on Bruce's infatuation with the woman. "Sounds like it's a good thing you're there to fix it."

"Don't puff me up yet. The only thing I've done is file papers."

Fox nodded, "Are you going to visit your parents, or keep them guessing?"

"I plan on calling them tonight and visiting tomorrow."

"And your sister?"

"She can rot in rehab."

"That's a bit harsh." Mr. Fox scolded while giving a smirk to Bruce. "No, it's not. She messed her own life up. Not my problem. She belongs in rehab. My parents don't deserve to have their names drug through the mud."

Then it clicked. Regan Carmichael. She'd left when she was 18. No one knew where, maybe Bruce subconsciously copied her.

"Tell me Regan, how do you feel now that you've achieved your dream?" He charmed. Her surprised look made him smile. His chocolate eyes held hers.

"I should be asking you the same thing, Bruce. How's the stuffy businessman fitting you?"

"Well." He replied seriously. She knew better. As if on cue, they both laughed. He motioned for the waiter to take their order.

After ordering a large deep -dish Gotham style pizza, Mr. Fox turned to business. "Bruce, you mentioned that Luthor was trying to deal with Carmichael. If Luthor gets what he wants, how bad?"

Bruce's face-hardened, "Bad. I need to convince Carmichael that dealing with Luthor isn't wise."

Regan knew she could persuade her father to Bruce's side. "I'll convince him tomorrow."

The duo stared at her, and both seemed satisfied. With a smirk plastered on her face, she asked, "Bruce, do you still attend those overly boring parties?"

He ran his hand through his auburn hair, "Of course, because I throw them."

She grinned. Mr. Fox slyly added, "Aren't you having one tonight?"

Bruce walked right into the older man's trap. "Unfortunately."

He glanced at Regan again. This glance showed her as the beautiful woman she was, her eyes had changed to green during their banter. "Regan, you can come if you'd like. Your parents will be there." His casual demeanor threw her off guard. She wasn't sure he wanted her there. Should she take a chance? 'Use an excuse. I hate those parties.'

"I would love to go, but I'm not on my parents account. All of us know how lousy a cop's salary is."

Lucius wasn't going to let this opportunity to pass by. "I'll take you shopping, once you're back to your unlimited cash flow, you can repay me."

"Alright." She conceded.

Bruce held in his satisfaction and nodded stoically. Lunch arrived, and the trio was too busy eating to talk.

After the bill was brought, Bruce pulled his wallet out to pay. Lucius handed him $20.00, and Regan pulled $20.00 and offered it. Bruce shook his head, "It's nothing, Regan."

She didn't challenge him, which was surprising. "Mr. Fox, Miss Carmichael. I will see you both later."

Mr. Wayne left the eatery casually and drove away in his new silver Aston Martin DB9.

"So what's with you bringing Wayne?" she asked eyeing her second father.

"Nothing." He replied smirking. "Let's get going. We need to get your feet & hands, then a dress, and finally, hair and make-up."

Regan smirked, "You planned this."

Shaking his head in defiance, he led her to his BMW 1 series coupe. They climbed in and set off to accomplish Mr. Fox's plan.

Driving down the streets of the fashion district brought back memories of her past. She quickly pushed those thoughts away.

He drove to a well-known salon and dragged her in. Regan received a manicure, a pedicure, and an assortment of other painful procedures.

They left the salon and walked about the designer stores. Remembering how Dior usually looked good on her, she ventured in. She eyed a long sage silk satin chiffon dress with canaille and charms embroidered into the neckline, and a high front vent. When she came out of the dressing room, she wowed Mr. Fox. "That's perfect."

'Bruce is going to love it.' He thought. Then she picked a pair of Dior beige patent leather sling back 2.5 inch heels. Once he paid, they headed back to the salon.

After five hours of preparing, Regan looked nothing like a cop. Her make-up was heavy by her standards, but she took it in stride. Her hair was pulled into a series of complicated braids and such that it hit a crest, then cascaded down in elegant curls. She knew she needed to get back to the apartment to dress and practice fake smiling.

Mr. Fox dropped her off, and stated, "I'll be back in 20 minutes. I have to grab my suit from Marc Jacobs." She nodded and hurried into the apartment where she found Jena with a bad hangover. The model stared at her, "Where are you going?"

"Meeting parents." Was the response and it satisfied the headache ridden model.

Regan quickly changed into her new dress and shoes, and made final touch-ups. She practically ran to the door and smiled at Mr. Fox who understood that his daughter didn't know. "You look wonderful in your suit!" she praised as they re-entered the running car.

The duo hated being late; however, a large traffic collision hindered their punctuality. They sat in traffic for over an hour before finally pulling into the luscious driveway of Wayne Manor. He opened her door, and she majestically climbed out. The duo entered the opulent manor to find the party had gone on without them. Mr. Fox left her side, so she could enter alone. She stood at the beginning of the entrance waiting for a sign. Nothing. She gulped and waltzed in. Bruce happened to look up as she entered. His eyes widened in surprise. Regan felt the stares of the partygoers and froze up for but a moment. Shaking them off, she headed for Bruce. "Hello, Bruce." She offered with subtle smile attempting to hold in a blush caused by his stare.

"Regan, you look wonderful."

"That's an understatement, Mr. Wayne." Lucius Fox interjected.

"Fine. How about, you look magnificent?"

"Thanks." She glanced at both. Bruce grabbed her by the hand and led her to her parents. Her father's hair had turned from brown with patches of grey to pure grey; however, his kind eyes still retained their muster. "Mr. Carmichael, this is Regan Carmichael. I believe you two have met?" Her father caught his humor, "I believe so."

Bruce squeezed her hand before letting go.

"Hi, Dad." She forced. She expected a glare and a long lecture, but it didn't come. Her father embraced her saying, "Thank God you're back. I was beginning to wonder where my heir went. "

She smiled broadly, "Right here, Dad."

"Knowing you, you went away for school. May I inquire as to what you studied?"

"I have a degree majoring in forensics, but I minored in business."

"That's my girl, original yet thoughtful."

"Where's Mom?"

"Around here somewhere. Where have you been?"

"D.C." she replied shortly.

"Should I dare to ask what you were doing in D.C.?"

She lightly hit him on the arm, "Dad, of course you should ask, but to save your energy; I'll just tell you. I joined the DEA but changed to the narcotic unit for the DCPD, then transferred here yesterday to take the position as lead detective for Gotham PDs narcotics unit." She finished her quick overview with a broad smile, which mirrored her father's expression.

Hoping to move attention away from herself, she questioned, "Dad, can I offer you some advice on the company you keep?"

"Sure darling."

"Dad, I wouldn't do any business with Lex Luthor. He's bad news."

"Fine, then who do you suggest?" Her father asked raising an eyebrow.

"Wayne Enterprises. Wayne pulls weight in almost every country, while Luthor pulls weight only in the North American continent. Moreover, Wayne has sectors for almost every aspect of industry. I suggest we go with the more experienced, stable company. Wayne runs a strict, honest company." Mr. Carmichael was impressed with his daughter's thoughtful answer.

"Fine, but I'm putting you in charge of our dealings with Wayne Enterprises. You start Monday. Oh, and don't worry, your hours will be flexible, since you already have an important job."

Slightly in shock, Regan only nodded in acceptance, which earned her another hug from her father.

Bruce stood close enough to hear her conversation. DEA? Narcotics? Business with Wayne Enterprises? He shoved his thoughts to the back of his mind and continued his boring conversation with Fredrick's wife.

Regan could see Bruce's egotistical bored expression and decided to save him. The band struck a waltz number. He turned to see her heading towards him. "Dance?" he asked in a low voice causing a shiver to run down her spine.

"Sure." She returned confidently.

As they danced, his eyes poured over her. His gaze made her slightly nervous. Attempting to distract him, Regan began to talk about business. "I talk to Dad about Lex."

"Oh, and did you persuade him?" he questioned comfortably while still maintaining his look. She was temporarily lost in the notion that he wasn't a boy anymore. He'd grown since they danced last, and he was considerably stronger. "I convinced him to do business solely with Wayne Enterprises, and I gained myself a second job."

"Oh?" he acknowledged as his hand slid down from her waist to her hip. She gulped. "Yeah, I'm in charge of business between the two companies." 'Keep thinking business Regan.'

"Meaning, we'll be seeing a lot of each other in the coming weeks." He affirmed as he pulled her closer.

The couple had an audience.

"Mr. Fox, I hope Mr. Wayne has honorable intentions with my daughter."

"Mr. Carmichael, Bruce would never pursue a one night stand with Miss Carmichael. I planned their meeting tonight. Bruce doesn't know it yet, but he's dancing with his future wife."

The older businessman jumped back in astonishment. "How do you know?"

"Look at his eyes; he only got that look when he was with Rachel. Since she's moved on, I'm helping him move on."

Mrs. Carmichael laughed, "Imagine the possibilities if they married. It would be more than a monopoly."

Mr. Fox smiled, "I give it a week. In the meantime, I have to figure out a way for my daughter to kick Regan out of the apartment, and you have to somehow lie and say that Mercedes is back or that you're away on business. That way Bruce would feel obligated to invite her to stay."

"You've been at this awhile, haven't you?"

"Since they danced when they were sixteen."

Bruce and Regan finished their dance, and chatted lightly about things. "I'm having a charity ball next week for The Martha Wayne Foundation."

"Is that an invitation?" she asked as he took a swig of champagne.

"If you would like to come?" He countered with a question.

"Will the Foxes' be there?"

"Why does that matter?"

"Why won't you answer?" She sighed.

"Because I like watching think." He replied amused.

She bit her lip in response. Regan's mind was racing with euphoria. Until it vanished when Mr. Fox stepped forward with her cell phone, "Phone call, Regan."

She clutched the phone and answered, "Hello?"

"Detective Carmichael. We have a situation in the Narrows. None of the other detectives are picking up."

Regan glanced at Bruce with a look of disappointment. "I'll be right in."

She clearly faked a smile. "There's a situation in the Narrows, and I'm needed. Bruce could you call me a cab?"

"Sure." His disappointment could only be seen in his eyes, but concern was strewn across his face. Shifting his weight, he sighed heavily as he told Alfred to make the call.

Within minutes, the cab had arrived and Regan was gone.

She rushed to the apartment, changed, grabbed her gun, cuffs, and badge; and asked to be taken to the Narrows. The cabbie nodded slowly and drove to the desolate district. She paid and climbed out to see a number of cop cars parked.

Meanwhile, Bruce excused himself from the party claiming he had an important business call. Hastily, he changed into his suit.

He drove his new tumbler to the Narrows and hid it in a dark alley. Swinging his way to the top of the dilapidated building, he watched the cops below.

Regan took control of the situation, "Fill me in." She ordered, her laid-back attitude gone.

The police officer gulped, "A shooting over a drug deal gone wrong."

"Then this is homicides deal, not mine." 'This guy is an imbecile.'

"When I said the detectives weren't picking up, I meant all of them."

"That's impossible." She muttered as she entered the crime scene. Her trained eye caught a number of clues telling her that this was staged. "Patrolman, write down everything I say." He gave her a confused look but complied.

"Window broken from the inside by a blunt object. Bodies dragged to their current locations indicating crime scene tampering or staging. Guns left at scene, meaning no registration or prints, but dust anyways. A number of boot prints." She crouched. "The men wore shoes that were too big for them, so rough estimate of suspect's size is an 11 to 12. One print is a woman's, size eight maybe. Moreover, this is the wrong location for a deal. Smart dealers pick places that they can bail out from. This building has one entrance and exit. Nope, in my opinion, this was staged to hide a different crime." She continued to walk carefully around the room, and then she noticed an indentation on the floor. "Trap door. Flashlight & crow bar please."

He handed her the requested items, and she easily opened the door. She flashed the light into the darkness reflecting eyes. Realizing they were human, specifically women, she hastily stated, "Come on out ladies. We're the police." One by one, several young women dressed as gardeners climbed out of the shaft. Batman watched from the outside. His mind raced for any chatter about missing women, but he could remember nothing. Regan ventured down into the basement. Finding the light switch, she turned on the lights that revealed hundreds of marijuana plants and a kitchen area. She climbed out. "Get HAZMAT and the crime lab to do a sweep down there. There's gotta be a couple hundred grand's worth of drugs." She left the building and side stepped into the alley. Regan took a breath of air and turned to see the Dark Knight leaning against the wall.

"Thanks for having my back, and I don't believe a damn thing about you being a criminal." She stated as she left him in the alley to return to take the statements of the women, file paper work, and set to work on finding the dealer. Her mind processed everything. 'Why would someone reveal the drug operation using murder? To what purpose?'

As Regan was about to head back to the precinct, something in her gut told her the bodies weren't necessarily a stage. She re-entered the crime scene alone. HAZMAT was securing the basement, and the patrolmen were securing the perimeter. She knelt down by the bodies and eyed each body. All seemed legit, except for one. The outfit, which was a suit, was too big for him and the bloodstain was much older than the rest. Before she could react, the man pulled a knife. Regan took a step back and observed him. His pupils were a pinpoint, and his breathing was shallow. 'Heroin.'

"So what's your plan? After you knife me?" She asked in a chiding tone.

He didn't answer. She pushed, "There's no way you'll escape. Put the knife down and we can talk over donuts."

His eyes narrowed as he lunged and she easily dodged. Batman had crept into the rafters and viewed the altercation. Regan knew she couldn't reason with him. In a swift motion, she pulled her gun and yelled in a dark voice, "Drop the knife, and I won't shoot you. Get down on your knees now."

The man laughed at her, "She said you were tough, but I don't think she realized that you were smart enough to out me." She? Who was he talking about? Regan's mind shifted back to the knife in his hand. She didn't want to shoot him. Suddenly, he threw the knife, which hit her square in the shoulder. The man's face displayed blatant disappointment for not hitting her in the heart. Regan didn't waver. However, before she could shoot him, the suspect was pulled by a huge black object into the rafters. Regan fell to her knees and called for a medic. No one came. "What the hell? Where is everyone?"

"Their gone." A raspy voice answered her from the darkness.

"Why?"

"Probably paid off. You were a target."

"It's my first day, how?"

"They know you're a good cop."

She didn't answer him. The knife was laced with something, and she felt herself losing control. "Bat—" She gasped before she collapsed. He jumped down to check her pulse, which was weak. He gently picked her up and rushed her to the tumbler. He laid her gently in the passenger seat and telephoned Alfred.

"Alfred, I've got Detective Carmichael with me. She's been stabbed, and the knife appears to be poisoned."

"Very Well Sir. I'll prepare for your arrival."

Batman glanced at the detective. Why didn't she shoot him? 'She didn't want to kill him.' He reasoned as he sped through Gotham's city streets.

Another Author's Note: I realize how cliché it is to have her be drugged. I am in no way referencing the situation in Batman Begins.

Please review, however, I do not wish to receive flames as reviews. Please review responsibly. Revised: 6/08/10