"He's baiting me," Bruce said angrily slamming drawers and cabinets in Wayne Manor's state of the art kitchen. "He kills Rachel and then defaces the body of a poor innocent young woman and leaves her for dead in her bathroom, and I can never catch him! He eludes me at every turn and I'm beginning to become obsessed with him. It's eating me alive, Alfred, not being able to catch the one who killed Rachel. I can't…"

"You can," stated Alfred simply, "And where Bruce Wayne fails, Batman endures. You may go a little over the top every once and a while, Master Wayne," with this Bruce smiled. "But you have never crossed the lines that the Joker chooses not to see. You may bend the rules a little, but you have never broken them. For that I am extremely proud and I know your father would be too." Bruce didn't know what to say and luckily his other cell phone rang.

"What's happened?" he asked, immediately retreating from human into Gotham's protector.

"Nothing," Gordon said. "For once. Just thought you might want to know that your mystery woman is in the ICU, third floor, the doctors think she'll make it."

"Has she woken up yet."

"No, still unconscious, but she's stable and breathing on her own."

"What room?"

"315," said Gordon skeptically. "But you can't…" The line was dead again.

"She's alive," said Bruce with relief.

"You should always trust me, Sir," said Alfred, exiting the room before Bruce could make a snappy comeback. Bruce, still restless left the kitchen and headed down to the cave concealed beneath the southeast corner of the house. After arriving in what he had dubbed the Batcave while joking around with Alfred, he began to search the internet for news stories pertaining to the woman's assault. Headlines like "Woman Brutally Attacked" and "Joker Makes His Mark" crisscrossed Gotham's breaking news sites, but none of the articles revealed the name or identity of the brown-haired victim. The stories all said that Commissioner Gordon had been alerted by the Bat-man that a woman was injured in an uptown apartment. The stories, like they always did, regressed from the brutal attack and almost murder to the fact that Batman was no longer a savior instead a rampant killer that had to be brought to justice. Bruce sighed. He didn't know how long it would take until he could stop skulking around the city trying to dodge police officers and fight crime at the same time. The Joker, still running loose, was no match for the authorities and yet the stubborn people of Gotham couldn't drop their antagonism of Batman. He needed to catch this maniac for good, but he kept slipping through everyone's, even Batman's fingers.

He couldn't sit still any longer, couldn't stare at the pictures of a mutilated torso, knowing the man who had put them there was still loose. Donning his suit, mask and gadgets he decided to take the Batmobile out for a spin. Fox had designed a sleeker version of the Tumbler and Batman had yet to test her full capabilities. Maybe he would meet up with the Joker on his night roaming, then Batman could pay him back cut for cut of the mystery woman's injuries. Batman smiled at the thought of the fight to come.

Screaming down streets and over tarry asphalt, Batman tried to take out his aggression on the gas pedal and tight turns. Gotham's streets had never been emptier and so the city had become the playground of its stalwart protector. He had to focus every ounce of concentration on driving and therefore didn't have to think of the girl who almost died because he couldn't catch a maniac. How many people would be close or dead before he had finally put the Joker away for good. He broke out of every prison he was put in, and Batman couldn't leave him to roam the 

streets. With the incident of today looming in his mind he wasn't too surprised to see the newest addition to the Gotham landscape appear before him.

The Dawes Hospital was pristine and state of the art. Doctors had been flown in from every part of the country and world. Nothing was below par and if Bruce Wayne had anything to say about it, nothing would be. The building was imposing and yet it still managed to look homey. Bruce Wayne had made sure of that too. The building had cost a fortune and furnishing it had cost even more, but if it was to have Rachel's name on it… it would be nothing short of perfect. Bruce had also been able to give back to the city and it was nice to have their loving approval for at least one half of his person. Bruce Wayne was adored while Batman was hunted.

Batman sneered, hating the fickle nature of the mob, but that was the price he had to pay as the guardian of such a twisted city, so desperately in need of saving. While thinking of these much more philosophical topics, he had casually and with not too much screeching of tires, had stowed away the Batmobile. It took him mere minutes to scale three floors and locate room 315. Luckily Batman knew just how to disable the alarms, a perk if your billionaire alter-ego drew up the designs for the building, and within seconds of reaching the room he had successfully broken in.

The walls were a soft white and the bed was standard issue, but the girl and the wounds that had been inflicted on her were probably one of a kind. Honey brown hair was fanned out over the stacked pillows and a pink that Batman had never seen, had returned to her cheeks. The hospital robe concealed the night's toll on her body and if Batman hadn't seen her so close to death earlier, he would have thought she was peacefully sleeping. An IV had been carefully placed in her left arm and her heart monitor was beeping at a steady, even rate. Batman had been too caught up in the whirlwind of blood and water to really notice the physical appearance of the girl, but now with the soft glow of moonlight and dimmed fluorescents he noticed she had freckles sprinkled across a button nose. She had long black lashes and high cheekbones. She looked to be 5'7" or 5'8" but it was hard to tell while she was lying down. If forced to place her age, he would have guessed 20 or 22. She was skinny and he began to wonder if she was a model. She had been living in the nicer side of town and what he remembered of her apartment, before it had gotten blown up, was definitely a certain flair. It was strange, if she was so well off, that he had not met her in the Bruce Wayne circle. He wondered if she would be surprised to find she was alive. She hadn't been conscious since the attack in the bathroom, and he mused over the fact that for seconds maybe even minutes, she had been dead. Had she seen the light? Would she be glad to be back? There was only a blue-green ring of a bruise around her throat; she hadn't been beaten into submission or held at gunpoint, but the Joker's signature knife would probably have the same effect as an AK-47.

He turned to leave. There was no information to be gained from a highly sedated female and all the time wasted staring at her admittedly gorgeous body was not bringing the Joker any closer to justice.

"I'm sorry," she rasped out. Batman paused in the window frame. He turned around staring at the girl. "I'm sorry," she managed to moan out again, tears leaking from the most striking green eyes Batman, or even Bruce Wayne, had ever seen.