A/N: Yay I'm so glad you like it – thank you to everyone who reviewed! Here's hoping you continue to do so.

Chapter Two – An Encounter

My brother was the only person in the whole world who knew the reason I'd agreed to the transfer to Gotham. In truth, despite Charlie being here, I had no desire to be in the most dangerous city in America. Except for one thing.

Batman.

It didn't take long to move in. The money was transferred, my things – most of which had been in storage for weeks now – were finally out. It wasn't difficult to find a moving firm and arrange for them to be taken to my new apartment. I made sure my piano was the first thing unpacked. That, too, had been left to me by my grandfather; an antique Steinway Grand, mahogany and walnut inlay. I'd never seen it, and I knew it was utterly beautiful. I'd requested blueprints for the apartment so that I could work out where everything would go before I moved in, determined that I'd be totally independent from day one.

As I expected, the piano was out of tune, but I'd been tuning and maintaining it myself since I was ten; it wasn't a difficult job to correct the wrong notes. Once that was done, I stopped with a wince as there was a muffled crash from outside. Please don't let that have been Ben's box. If some of the stuff he'd made me got broken, he'd never forgive me. It turned out it was a box full of my books – only one had ripped pages, but brail books weren't as rare as they had been a few years ago. I'd just have to get another copy of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.

"Hey, Miss Simmons?" one of them asked. I identified him as Chris, one of the younger ones. His voice hadn't taken on the smooth deepness that adult men get, so I guessed he was about seventeen.

I smiled. "Yes, Chris?"

"Um, I was thinking…could you play for us? While we're moving your stuff in?"

"Well as soon as my piano stool is-"

"Here it is!"

I grinned and sat down at my newly re-tuned piano. "What would you like to hear?"

"Anything, it doesn't matter," he said. "But if I tell my mom that I met Ilaria Simmons and didn't ask her to play then she'll kill me. She's a big fan," he added shyly. "My parents went to New York for their anniversary last year and heard you play."

I smiled and put my hands on the keys, taking a moment to run my fingers along the cold ivory. "We'll start with some Chopin, I think…" I began with Fantasy on Polish Airs, revelling in being able to play my own instrument after weeks of not being able to. I'd really missed it. My eyes always close when I play – stupid, but it happens anyway. When the music filled the apartment, I could see some of it as the sounds echoed off the walls – enough to get the general idea of its size, anyway. It works much better if the sounds are high-frequency, but my hearing's sensitive enough so that it doesn't have to be.

By the time I'd finished Fantasy, as well as another two Chopin pieces, some Mozart and a Beethoven, they'd almost finished moving my things in. When I took my hands away from the keys, my fingers were aching slightly with lack of practise, but everyone in the apartment began clapping. I liked it; the sound of applause was a higher frequency than the music, so it was more helpful to me in mapping out the apartment. When they stopped, I had a better idea of where it was I was living.

When the movers left, I found the phone – on the top of the piano, right where it should be – and dialled my brother's number. The clock had just chimed five times, so it would be ten pm back home. Not too late, and after a few rings Ben picked up. "What?"

I smiled; he always answered the phone like that. "Hi, Ben. It's me."

"Oh hi, Ria. You moved in?"

"Yeah, movers just left. Just remind me, which case did you pack my suit and stuff in?"

There was a pause. "The big one with the ridges. But you're not going out tonight are you?"

"No, but I need to do a recon, so I need the equipment. Don't know what the apartment looks like yet."

"Ria, I'm still not sure about this," he said. "Doesn't Gotham already have a vigilante protecting it?"

"We've had this conversation, Ben," I reminded him. "I can help – that means I have to. It doesn't matter that they already have Batman; they could have a hundred Batmen. I still have to do this."

There was a rush of static as he sighed, and I decided a little teasing was in order. "Besides, if you've done your job properly it's not as though I'll be in any danger."

"My equipment is perfect!" he shot back. "I've got another three patent pending now. Those gadgets are going to make me a fortune!"

"Is that all you care about?" I asked. "Those gadgets could save people's lives."

Ben was a computer programmer for a small software company that designed software specifically for people with disabilities, like me. I'd be the last person to admit it, but Ben was smart. Ridiculously so, and he could have been making so much more money than he did – the amount of time he actually spent doing work was minimal. The rest of the time he was an inventor – he'd come up with at least ten devices that had certainly made my life easier, as well as a few that enabled me to lead my double life.

All the cases had been taken up to the master bedroom, so I made my way up there quickly. Jasper followed me, hoping that I'd lead him to the box that contained all his toys, but quickly losing interest when I made no move toward the correct-smelling box.

Opening the case, I reached in and picked up the soft leather of my suit. Ben kept telling me I needed to invest in Kevlar, but it just wasn't viable. I didn't have the money, for a start, and what would a blind concert pianist need Kevlar for anyway? Too many questions. Besides, I could hear fingers moving on triggers; I knew when to dodge. Another thing that I'd been blessed with. Fast reflexes had definitely helped with my martial arts training.

The suit is tight, and I'm told black, covering my whole body apart from the inevitable symbol on my chest. Incorporated into that symbol is the sonar system my brother designed for me; it sends- well, you all know what sonar does, don't you? It's connected to my ear piece. It isn't hard to fake an American accent, so with that and my mask, I figured there stood little chance of me being recognised in Gotham.

By the time I'd put that away, along with my weapon, it was night, and I was hungry. Remembering that I'd heard the sounds of a convenience store a little way down the street, and since it was only about seven pm, I decided that even Gotham couldn't be that dangerous. Knowing that Jasper hated the dark, I left him in the apartment, taking my cane instead. Within five minutes, I'd been proven wrong. Gotham really was that dangerous.

I'd gotten no further than fifty wards from the apartment before I heard several heartbeats round the corner. They picked up when they saw me, and then there was the metal snick of switchblades popping out. I sighed, hoping that I wouldn't have to kick ass at this point. Plus, without my sonar, there was always the chance I might miss something and get hurt.

"Hand over the purse, lady, and no one gets hurt."

I tightened my grip on my purse. "I'd really rather not."

There was an infinitesimal pause before one of them made another sound; a grunting sort of laugh. There were three of them, but only two knives. I thought the other one held some kind of blunt object in his hands – something made out of wood, definitely. He slapped it into the palm of his hand – the sound was unmistakably wood.

"Last chance, bitch. Give me the purse."

I refused again. "No."

They all took one step forward before suddenly, I heard a new heartbeat…dropping down?! Reflexively, my head went up in time to hear the rush of air over fabric, then one of my would-be attackers collapsed with a groan of pain. I took a cautious step backward. This, then, had to be the Batman. Unfortunately, in my haste to get out of hitting range, I'd forgotten that stepping backward would lead me to step on the foot of the man behind me. I heard his breathing just before he lashed out; the knife that would have gone into my ribcage instead went through the leather of my purse. I drove my elbow backward into his solar plexus, and he doubled over with an "ooph" of pain.

That was all he had time for; there was another rustling of fabric and a shock of air passed me. I wasn't entirely sure what happened next – but the man with the wooden weapon moved, apparently marginally faster than Batman thought he would. Faster than I thought he would or could move, I heard the air rushing over the weapon as he swung it through the air – and then winced when it connected with skull. Not mine, but Batman's. I had to hand it to him, he didn't make a sound, and when the last attacker crumpled, as far as I could tell he was still standing. His breathing was settled into quick, steady bursts, but was quickly slowing. I could still make out the faint raggedness to it – he was definitely hurt.

I jumped when he spoke – I don't know what I was expecting, but his voice did have a touch of the animal about it; low, harsh and almost feral. Obviously put on, since anyone who spoke like that all the time would have a permanent sore throat.

"Are you alright?"

I nodded and swallowed. "Yes. But you're not; I heard him hit you."

There was a faint touch of amusement in his words, as well as the pain. "I've had worse."

"I'm sure you have," I answered. Again acting on reflex, I reached out. I just about touched his face; feeling both mask and exposed jaw. They were both warm and wet with blood. "But you're still bleeding."

"Where do you live?" he said.

I blinked, then realised that he was, after all, Batman. He just wanted me safely at home so that he didn't have to spend the entire night babysitting me. "On the corner," I said, pointing behind me. "In the penthouse at the top of the building."

"Then go home. This city's not safe in darkness."

I raised an eyebrow, thinking about pointing out that I really wouldn't know the difference, but thought better of it. "Alright, but come back with me. You're hurt, and I have a first aid kit. You can't stay out here bleeding that much."

"Like I said; I've had worse," he repeated, irritation in his voice now.

Without thinking, I put one hand on my hip. "I don't care if you've been blown up before; I can't in all good conscience just let you leave injured."

He was definitely laughing at me this time. "Fine. Hold on."

Before I could ask 'to what' and 'why', there was an arm around my waist, and suddenly we were leaving the ground. The sensation was so unfamiliar that I let out a tiny, extraordinarily embarrassing squeak. Some kind of grappling hook, obviously, since even Batmen couldn't actually fly.

When my feet touched solid ground again, I let go of him quickly. "Where are we?"

"The helipad outside your apartment," he answered.

"I only have a key for the elevator," I said. "How do we get in?"

His feet walked away, and there was another small sound of metal on metal, then twisting. A lock pick. The glass door creaked slightly as it opened. Somehow I'd managed to keep hold of my cane, so felt my way through the door, following Batman's heartbeat. "Sit down," I said. "I'll be back in a second."

The squeaking of leather indicated that he'd done as asked, and I went quickly to the bathroom, opening the medicine cabinet and taking out the small rectangular box. As I went to move out of the bathroom, I heard the soft clicking of claws on the floor and a low down, slightly faster heartbeat. I reached down to pat Jasper's head – but he wasn't there, instead heading toward Batman. I groaned, knowing that unless he was with me at the time of meeting someone new, Jasper's reaction wasn't normally friendly.

Taking the first aid kit with me, I hurried out of the bathroom, only to stop in surprise. Apparently I'd been wrong about my dog – there was no sounds of any growling or aggravation from either human or canine. I made my way to their two heartbeats, sitting opposite Batman on the couch.

"Lie down, Jasper."

"I think your dog likes me," Batman commented.

"Lucky you," I smirked, opening the box at my side. "Alright…I'm just going to remove your-"

Even before I touched the cowl, he'd already gripped my hands tightly and jerked away. "No."

"I have to," I returned. He said nothing, and didn't let go of my hands. I gave an impatient sigh. "No matter, I'm sure the papers will be interested to know I had Batman in my apartment anyway. I assume that is what you're worried about?"

"Yes."

"Right. If you take the mask off, I'll run along to the media with your identity. It'll go great right up until the point where they ask me what you look like," I replied pointedly.

He stilled, and then slowly let go of my hands. There was the sound of rubber on leather as he removed the mask. I took this as an assent and reached out gently, not wanting to poke him in the eye. The fingers of my right hand met cheek; warm, roughened slightly from stubble. My left hand I moved a little higher in an attempt to find his hairline. I did meet his eyelids, and drew back quickly – more from the sensation than fear of hurting him. My fingertips brushing across his eyelids was too…intimate, too much like a caress. "Sorry," I blurted.

"It's alright," he said, voice still hoarse, but slightly softer.

I swallowed and tried again with more success, this time getting an eyebrow. I traced along it softly until I came to his right temple. There was a fairly sizable lump forming there, as well as the stickiness of drying blood. Quite a lot of it. "Ouch," I said. "What did he hit you with, a cricket bat?"

He shook his head ever so slightly. "Baseball."

"Same difference," I smiled, reaching into the first aid box to find an antiseptic wipe. Having locating the square packet, I tore it open quickly. "This is going to sting," I warned.

Some things are true for all men, no matter how tough they are or whether or not they dress up in a batsuit. Such as they'll never willingly ask for directions. Or read the instructions before fiddling with a new gadget. Or not make a fuss when they're in very little pain.

To his credit, Batman only drew in a quiet hiss as I wiped the blood away from his wound carefully. I rolled my eyes and continued. "Men are such babies."

"It was big baseball bat," he growled.

I grinned. "I'm sure it was." Once it was clean, I unwrapped a square band-aid and put it carefully in the right place. "Done. I'd say it's probably best not to the mask back on, but then that would make getting back to the belfry difficult."

"It's a cave," he said briefly.

He got up, heading toward the helipad. He moved more quietly than any other man I'd ever heard, but still audibly. Added to the fact that no amount of Kevlar could block his heartbeat. "I guess we're even then," I said just before he opened the door.

He said nothing, and his heartbeat faded surprisingly quickly. I sat back against the cushions with a sigh, thinking. At least I'd always know when he was leaving. It wasn't the way I'd planned to meet Batman, but an encounter was an encounter. Of course, I'd have to pretend to meet him all over again as Echo, but at least he wouldn't be saving me. Echo didn't need saving. Who knows? I might even get to save him.

---

A/N: So, what did you think? Review please!