The content in this chapter/a few after and the beginning story arc is credit to The Detective Comics #833 and the DC verse and of course is not of my own creation. I decided to put the credit upfront here because this section is very much just my take on that particular comic -I did not invent the situation, etc. Enjoy!

The leggy woman moved over to his side bravely. Let Bruce flinch away from her mere presence if he wanted to, at least she would have a better idea of how to act around him. To her relief though, he barely blinked an eye at her. Her long, evenly curved body towered at her side. This was the only time she was ever looking down at Bruce from under thick black lashes. When he was standing he was a good head taller than her. Zatanna instinctively went to brace her stance with a hand on the arm of his chair, but thought better of it and just bent slightly at the waist to inspect the screen of the computer and his work.

She wondered breifly if he could smell her Ralph Lauren perfume on her as well as she could smell the Armani cologne wafting off his tired figure. She also wondered if he could, if it was distracting him as much as his was distracting her. She could barely concentrate on the multitude of articles and pictures he'd splayed across the screen while her head was whirling with the effects of the scent mixed with his own crisp masculinity. She swallowed hard to try and regain her composure. Or at least gather up the pieces of the one she'd dropped when he'd regarded her so coldly.

"I told Katy she should leave his act. After he broke his leg he just kept putting the show girls in longer and more dangerous acts -his stage hands and performers got hurt on a regular basis. But it was a good gig, she said," Zatanna let her words come out smooth and evenly, trying not to trip and stumble over her words like her insecurity was trying to get her to.

Bruce nodded. He kept his eyes to the screen. He hadn't looked at her once since she'd arrived. It seemed effortless to him. He still had this artful way of making her feel like she didn't exist, even when she was standing a foot away from him and having a conversation. But it was still nice to hear his voice. She could at least find solace in that.

"I didn't know who it was when I investigated her death. But I was there when Gordon shut Loxias down, his habit of making shows of his performers injuries wasn't sitting well with the police." His voice was dark and gruff. It sent shivers of pleasure and nostalgia up and down her spine.

"Bet he was real happy about that."

"The question remains, why Katy? Would Loxais have any reason for wanting her out of the picture?"

Zatanna shook her head violently, "No, no. She was the sweetest thing you'd ever meet. Wouldn't swat at a fly. I can't think why he, or anyone else, would want to hurt her."

Bruce suddenly stood from his chair. The movement surprised the young magician so much she lurched back, violet eyes wide with apprehension. Her unease was rewarded. Standing and making his way behind the chair, his eyes passed over hers for a split second. Vibrant violet met steely, cold blue for a half a second before he ripped his gaze away bitterly and quickened his pace. The dark cape about his shoulders swirled like the black ocean their relationship had become. Zatanna reached out gently to grab his shoulder but was an inch too short.

She wanted to apologize again to him, right there. Get on her knees and beg for his forgiveness even. Anything to get him to look at her like she was a friend instead of a monster. The heavy, tangled curls in her hair seemed to wobble along with her resolve as she watched him head over to another computer hanging over what looked to be a bench full of chemistry gadgets and flasks. Before she could attempt her apology Bruce was speaking.

"In the video I pulled from the police records it shows her being bound and gagged, then moved into the box. Five minutes later the pulled the top off and she was already dead," he pointed to the screen, narrating as the clips played in slow motion. Zatanna felt a little queazy, watching her friend in her final moments. She was even more rattled by Bruce's almost callous way of referring to it. He was certainly justified to not dance around the concept of death and loss, but she'd never quite gotten used to it.

She lifted her chin though and feigned strength. Her boots clicking along the tile of the raise in the floor, she made her way towards the stoic figure of the un-cowled Batman and placed her hands on her hips. She dared not get close to him again. The magnetic pull he had over her was too painful to be shut off and she didn't know how long she could last, pulling this fake wall of strength over her face, with his presence touching distance away.

She stopped on the other end of the table from him and pointed at the screen.

"That's not fake struggling, Bruce. She's terrified."

Bruce stopped the clip on a particularly disturbing frame of Katy with her mouth bound, her eyes wide and nearly popping out of her head with fear. You couldn't fake terror like that, no matter how good of a performer you were. And Zatanna was talented enough to notice the difference between good acting and downright raw emotion. She lowered her eyes from the screen, not being able to bear the horror in Katy's face, frozen in time.

"That's the interesting part. I recovered the gag from the scene and processed it -it was soaked in walnut oil." He spoke as if he already knew where this was going. And skillfully avoided her gaze at the same time.

Zatanna bristled. Her heart sunk to the pit of her stomach. It would have been easier on her, on Bruce, on Katy, if this was all just a careless stage accident. But now it was clear to her it really wasn't. Her hunch had been correct.

"She was allergic. Deathly allergic to all that stuff," she said with great difficultly.

She looked up and saw Bruce's mouth softened. His face was still as hard as ever, but a soft down curve of his lips made him appear human again. For a moment she imagined him crossing the distance between them and taking her into his arms -the safest place anyone could ever be. But also the loneliest. It didn't matter, he stayed on his end of the table anyway and as soon as she'd seen the softness in his mouth it disappeared and the thin pressed line was back.

"I think we owe Loxais a visit," Bruce said in a guttural purr that was unintentionally knee weakening.

Zatanna watched him in a haze as he brushed right by her at a taunting distance -just close enough to touch but far enough away to exemplify the ocean of distrust he'd put between them- and went to his desk again to retrieve his cowl. She watched him with a sad sort of pity as he pulled on the dark mask and transformed before her.

Gotham, the city with the glittering parties, sleek Mercedes and high class snobs. Where the clothes were all designer, and the rich were all beautiful. And where the highest on the ladder had the deepest, darkest secrets that dragged them back into Hell to meet up with their demons. With his impressive back to her, Zatanna felt like she and Bruce were the same person. Two completely different entities to them, but one whole being all the same. Ripping itself down the middle.

The Batman turned back to her and she could only just recognize the harsh blue reflective quality of his eyes under the shadow of the cowl. There was a time where she would have joked about his bat ears, or the outdated material of his cape, or something trivial. Something that she would be expected to say accompanied by her loud, unhindered laughter.

But now she could only look on and halfheartedly murmured an incantation for herself, "Gnikrow sehtolc raeppa," and let a burst of light finally leave her in her less appropriate but world renowned outfit. It was her stage ensemble as well as it was her style of choice while fighting crime. The flashy black silk top hat perched on top of her head, a tight vested black tail coat that opened up to let a white blouse spill over and make her chest appear even bigger than it was. The leotard onesie was accompanied by nothing else but her long fishnets that ran under it and elongated the most famous set of legs in Gotham and gave the outfit a touch of raciness she'd been both praised and reprimanded for in her career. A scarlet ribbon was knotted at her throat and matched the apple red frown of her lips as Bruce passed her again without a second look.

He was headed for the sleek black Batmobile and she raised an eyebrow.

"You know I can just transport us wherever we want to start," she said slowly, knowing fully well he hadn't forgotten.

For the first time all night, he really looked at her. For a long period of time, harshly, intensely, deeply. She could feel the weight of the world that was resting on his shoulders just gingerly in his gaze. It frightened her.

"Let's keep the magic to a minimum tonight," he said curtly.

"You never seemed to opposed to it before," she retorted back, a little defensively. Stripping Zatanna Zatara of her magic was like stripping the infamous Batman of his little ears.

But before she could snap back anymore, he cut her a gaze that might have slit her throat had he had laser vision.

"That was before."

That shut her the woman up. Hurt deeply by his resurfacing of old wounds, she wrapped one arm around herself for comfort. Her heart that was resting uncomfortably in the pit of her stomach seemed to disintegrate under his gaze.

"Bruce," she pleaded, "I'm sorry. I've told you a thousand times. I know I don't deserve forgiveness but please, please just understand me. That was the biggest mistake of my life. I know -I know I wronged you, I betrayed your trust."

All she'd been planning to say all night tumbled out of her in a rush of hurried words and desperation. Her wide violet eyes trembled and if it wasn't for the stark, dramatic white around the irises it might have seemed that she was close to tears. She took a steadying breath after the flow of words and cringed, waiting for his reaction. What a perfect world it would be if he would just smile and tell her it was alright and slap her on the back. They would be back to being thick as thieves in no time, all of the nonsense forgotten.

But instead, he remained as cold as ever. The top to the Batmobile slid back with a swoosh of metal and he finally looked away from her. It was impossible to read his eyes with the cowl on.

"We're taking the car," was all he said finally after an agonizing few minutes of silence.

Zatanna crumpled in on herself. Dutifully, her platform heels clicked along the stalagmite and rock and she eased herself over and into the seat of the Batmobile. Bruce was already seated next to her and he revved the engine as the ceiling closed. Their arms were almost touching in the tight enclosure. She hadn't been this close to him in months. But she couldn't help feeling that they were even farther away then when they'd started. She was in China and he was sitting in America as the Batmobile pealed out of the chilly darkness of the batcave and into the inky Gotham evening.