I know this wasn't as quick as you probably expected, but hopefully you won't be disappointed. Keep in mind, guys, this isn't going to be a short story. It won't be extremely long, either, but I like to take things slow. Anyways, enjoy the chapter… and give me feedback. : )

Chapter Four

It felt nice to be out of Rachel's apartment and in the pulsing bustle of the downtown area once more, even if I was alone and sipping on an overpriced cup of bitter coffee. I ignored its rancid taste and forced the warm liquid down my throat, desperate for a quick energy kick from my prior sleepless night. Rachel had suggested this café when I mentioned stopping somewhere for some caffeine. She boasted on how wonderful their coffees and Danish pastries were. When I took another hesitant sip, I grimaced. Maybe it was just my cup that was bad?

As I sat back in the chair, setting the paper cup down gently on the smooth tabletop in front of me, I self consciously picked at my fingernails. I felt horribly underdressed in my simple pants and shirt in this coffee shop, especially considering corporate executives were more than likely sitting close by. I let my eyes shift up quickly, quietly studying the customers nearby. Two men sat at the table to the right of me, both adorned in pressed black suits and dark colored ties. One had brown hair combed neatly to the side, his stoic expression unchanging as he almost mechanically lifted his arm to drink from his large cup. The other had darker hair combed in a similar fashion, but moved his hand exuberantly amidst the conversation. A large gold ring gleamed from one finger as his hand passed through a ray of sunlight, and I subconsciously covered my left hand with my right. A familiar pressure from my finger jabbed into the underside of my right palm, and I sighed, uncovering my hand. A silver band with a tiny diamond protruding from the center met my eyes, not once gleaming in the bright light. I tore my eyes from it.

Nate had proposed almost a year ago, on a muggy June evening. We'd been walking outside after eating at the restaurant we had our first date at, and he'd presented me with a small velvet box. He even fell to one knee, his eyes shining in adoration as he rehearsed his love and devotion for me. Onlookers paused to glance at him and me, smiling excitedly and waiting in anticipation. My embarrassment was evident as he did this, but I reluctantly slid the cool metal onto my finger, smiling tightly as he squeezed me firmly in a warm hug, whispering promises into my ear. Since I met him in our last year of college, he'd always been so sweet and… traditional, in many senses. He did not kiss me on our first date, and did not attempt anything further than that for many months.

Even after dating Nate for awhile, I found myself disturbed with how my warped perception was. At night, when he was sound asleep with his short, dark hair exposed to me as he lay on his side, I found myself imagining it was dark blonde waves spilling over slightly on the wrinkled pillow. And then, every day, his beautiful light green eyes blinked open groggily in the early morning and a warm smile spread over his thin lips. I smiled back at him despite my inner yearning to be gazing into the familiar cold, dark eyes of another man. I leaned in and kissed him softly, regardless of my desire to be kissing fuller lips, to be stroking a stronger jaw line. And when he pressed his body against mine in the dark, his breath coming out in heavy, gentle pants against my ear, I burned for the form on top of me to be leaner, longer, firmer.

I should have been in love with Nate. He was perfect. Kind, gentle, compassionate, intelligent, successful. He was charming. He was handsome.

But he wasn't Jack.

"Miss?"

I jumped, startled from the voice next to me. I glanced up in the direction of the voice tensely, and was met with the sight of the young man from the cash register. He glanced down at me nervously before holding out a tan colored wallet.

"I'm sorry," I forced out a short laugh, feeling embarrassed that I had spaced out so easily. He shrugged lightly and a small smile curved at the corner of his lip.

"It's okay," He replied. "I think you left this at the register."

I glanced down at it, noticing the silver buckle on the front and the tiny tear in the corner. Yep, it was mine. I reached for it slowly, smiling politely at the boy standing awkwardly in front of me.

"Thank you." I slipped it into my purse, which was resting open at my feet. My eyes shifted towards the boy, who was glancing at my cup nervously.

"I, um…" He cleared his throat slightly. "Is the coffee alright?"

I picked up the cup then and took a long drink, holding back a mortified grimace as the bitter, cooled liquid slid down my throat. I smacked my lips together once, nodding and grinning up at him.

"It's great."

He made a face then, his eyebrow cocking slightly, before nodding slowly and turning to walk back towards the register. I sighed. I was a terrible liar.

- - - - - -

There was nothing more awkward than sitting alone on a couch with one of your best friend's boyfriends. Except sitting alone on a couch with one of your best friend's boyfriends while he wore an expensive suit and you wore ragged pajama pants. While Rachel was getting ready in the bathroom, I was sitting in silence with Harvey, two untouched glasses of red wine resting on the coffee table before us. I cast a quick glance at the man sitting to the side of me, his blonde hair parted neatly to the side and his strong, angular features catching the table lamp. He sat as stiffly as I did, his hands resting on the tops of his thighs and his shoulders tense against the back of the sofa.

"So," He cleared his throat in the quiet air around us. "You, uh, have plans tonight?"

"Not really," I replied with a shrug. "I figured I could just watch a movie or something."

He nodded slightly, his eyes shifting to look at me. "You're invited to the fundraiser, you know." He let out a low chuckle. "It'll be fun, I'm sure."

"I know, Rachel invited me."

"Oh. Not interested?"

"No, no. It's not that. I'm just tired," I lied, letting out a soft yawn to further prove my excuse. The truth was, Rachel had invited me to Harvey's fundraiser, but the idea of drinking fine champagne in a large group of the rich and elite, people I didn't know, was not appealing to me. Rachel even offered to lend me a dress, claiming that I'd look amazing in a silky red number stashed away in her closet, butI'd decided that staying home would be in my best interest.

The silence following my declaration of exhaustion proved to be even more daunting, if possible. I tapped my fingers nervously on the arm of the sofa and chewed on inside of my lip gently, silently begging Rachel to hurry so I wouldn't have to spend another awkward moment alone with Harvey. I liked Harvey, I did. I met him when Rachel and I were both in law school; he was a few years older and completely crazy for her, constantly casting adoring glances in her direction. But Harvey and I were considered to be more acquaintances than friends.

As if my silent prayer was answered, Rachel emerged from the bathroom quickly, strolling across the living room in swift strides as her hands reached behind her head to pin loose pieces of hair into the relaxed hairstyle she adorned. She wore an elegant turquoise gown, which looked absolutely lovely with her dark hair, and her soft features were accentuated with light makeup. Harvey stood immediately, beaming at her as she reached for her purse.

"You look beautiful."

She rolled her eyes at him, smiling sheepishly. "It's not my best, but thank you."

"No, really," I added quickly. "You look great."

"Well…" She began with a sigh, tucking a short strand of hair behind her ear. "…It was the best I could do in an hour." She looked at me and smiled, letting out a charming laugh. "But thank you, again."

As they left, after Rachel attempted one last time to get me into the red silk dress and come to the party, I felt strangely at peace. I enjoyed being alone, a lot of the time. It was a time to reflect and sift through my thoughts. It was relaxing for me. And as I popped a sappy chick flick into the DVD player and cuddled under a soft blanket, my eyelids began to feel heavy, and soon after sitting down for the movie, I drifted off into a comforting slumber.

- - - -

My comforting slumber did not last for more than a few hours, unfortunately. I was jolted awake by the sound of the front door opening frantically and slamming shut with a vibrating force. My eyes blinked open quickly, and I reached up to rub them rapidly in an attempt to see the intruder. As my blurred vision cleared, I sighed in relief as I saw that this was no intruder, it was only Rachel. My heartbeat slowed, and I sank back into the couch, more relaxed knowing that there was no stranger breaking into the apartment. Sitting up more, I saw that Rachel was pouring herself a glass of wine and sitting at the counter. My eyes shifted down to my still untouched glass of wine from hours prior, when Harvey was sitting with me, and I grabbed it as I stood up to walk over to her.

I sat down next to her, and noticed that her hair was almost completely loose, with more strands falling across her shoulders. Her dress was wrinkled, with the sleeves slightly askew on her flushed arms. Her face was tense as she stared down into her glass, taking small sips every once in awhile. Something was wrong, I realized.

"So," I spoke up in the silence, my fingers skimming the delicate rim of my wine glass. "How was it?"

"It was nice," She murmured after taking another drink from her glass. "Bruce always throws the nicest parties."

"Br…Bruce?" I stuttered, suddenly taken aback at her declaration. "Rachel, you didn't tell me Bruce was hosting it."

"I didn't?" She questioned in a flat voice. "Oh. Yes, it was Bruce's idea. It was Bruce's band that played the music. It was Bruce's caterers that provided the food. And it was Bruce's penthouse window that I was thrown out of."

I choked on my wine as she told me this. What?

"You were what?"

"Thrown out of his window."

My eyes were wide in horror as she continued to sip on her diminishing red liquid, her face surprisingly calm.

"What happened?"

"Well," She began, pausing to lick a few drops of wine from her lips. "The party was crashed."

"By?"

She was silent then, her eyes cast down on the marble countertop. I saw her fingers flex tensely around the neck of her glass and I knew.

Oh.

Rachel sighed then, and continued to elaborate. "And… he was harassing the guests, looking for Harvey, he kept saying-"

"Oh, God, is he okay?"

She nodded slowly, "Yes, he's fine. Bruce took him to safety." She inhaled deeply, leaning back against the chair. "Anyways, I was foolish enough to step up to him. And he… he said…" She trailed off for a moment, her eyebrows furrowing. "It doesn't matter what he said. He tossed me out the window."

"You were thrown out of a penthouse window," I repeated slowly, watching as she nodded in response. "How are you…" I motioned to her body quickly with my hand. "You know, here?"

She let out a light laugh, one that was characteristic of Rachel Dawes, and I felt more at ease. She smiled slightly, her eyes locked on the refrigerator feet away from us. "Batman showed up, too. He saved me."

"Was anyone else hurt?"

"Judge Surillo was killed," She said softly, before quickly adding, "Not at the party; she was killed in an explosion of some sort." She shrugged lightly. "And the commissioner of the police department was murdered. Poisoned, I think." She swallowed hard, her eyes cast down. "His funeral service is Sunday."

We sat in silence for half an hour or so more, while my thoughts raced frantically through my mind. I didn't know why I was here anymore. The killings were becoming more frequent, more demented, as the days passed, and part of me continued to beg to step into my car and drive back to the safety of my cramped apartment and loving fiancée. But the other part demanded closure. Was this man Jack? I hoped it wasn't, God, I desperately hoped that it wasn't. That's what I told myself, at least. The fluttering in my stomach and the rapid thump of my heart in my chest said otherwise.

- - - - - -

It was an uncharacteristically muggy day in the city, with light grey clouds blanketing the sky and light, cool breezes blowing through every once in awhile. The stone buildings surrounding me seemed even more grey today, with no brilliant sunlight to reflect the colors of them. The gloomy day seemed reminiscent of the event taking place as pedestrians lined up mournfully on the cracked pavement of the sidewalks. I was among them, standing in between an older gentleman and a middle-aged woman. She had a young boy with her, who was gripping onto her gloved hand, sucking on his thumb quietly. I glanced up over the heads of the congested crowds and saw Rachel perched on the stage next to Harvey, her black pea coat wrapped tightly around her slender form. Both she and Harvey had grave expressions plastered across their faces.

It wasn't Rachel's influence for me to attend the funeral service; I'd suggested it at breakfast the morning after the fundraiser. I felt that although I did not know Commissioner Loeb, I should still mourn his loss and exhibit my respect for the man lost. She had insisted that it wasn't necessary, but I persevered and agreed to attend the service with her. She merely smiled wryly in response.

The sounds of bagpipes and drums broke my thoughts, and as I craned my head to the right, I saw the parade of musicians and police officials coming closer. I watched as the lines of men wearing kilts and carrying bagpipes walked by mournfully, their eyes forward as they continuously blew into their instruments. Following them were endless rows of the Gotham City Police Department officials, dressed in finely pressed uniforms and wearing stoic expressions on their stony faces. As the parade of music halted at the front of the stage, I turned to watch as the mayor of Gotham stepped up to the oak podium, clearing his throat into the microphone protruding from it.

"Commission Loeb dedicated his life to law enforcement," He began in a powerful, steady voice, his arms firm on the side of him. "And to the protection of his community. I remember when I-I first took office, and I asked him if he wanted to stay on as commissioner, and he said he would…"

The Mayor's sentimental speech on his 'old friend' did not hold my interest for long, and I found myself studying and observing the people around me. There were inhabitants of every age and shape, each watching their mayor with unprecedented attention. Rachel, too, had exceptional eye contact as she listened attentively to the man on stage. I sighed, turning my attention back to him, my ears catching his voice once more.

"…We must remember that vigilance is the price of safety." He finished, pressing his mouth together firmly and stepping back from the podium as an officer below commanded his men in a loud, sharp voice. I watched as the front row of men followed his voiced instructions, their guns first propped in their hands.

"…Fire!"

The gunshots were let out, and I couldn't help but jump at their loud resonance as they echoed off of the surrounding structures. I chewed on the fleshy portion of my lower lip, silently telling myself that it was part of the ceremony. Another gunshot was let out, and I felt myself less tense. As the loud commander bellowed out his last fire, I prepared myself for the final shots to reverberate around me. My eyes fell on stage at that moment, and I caught a flash of a man wearing glasses darting across stage and throwing his body in front of the mayor. Within a microsecond, the final gunshots rang out, but they were not directed in the air. They were directed on stage. Screams surrounded me as the uniformed officers standing in line broke up, dashing away frantically from the origin of the gunshots. I realized, numbly, that the men holding the guns were attempting to shoot people. I looked up quickly to see Rachel and Harvey being hurried off stage. I had to run.

I darted down the sidewalk, weaving in and out of the thick crowd, my lungs burning from the exertion of the sudden exercise. I heard people around me frantically calling for one another, yelling out and attempting to dash away from the parade just as I was. As I continued running, I made a sharp turn and found myself colliding with a warm, solid object. I fell back from the impact of the collision, and my legs sprawled out beneath me as I looked up to see a uniformed man looming above me. I was panting rapidly, my lungs tingling as I craned my head up slightly to look at him. He was panting just as heavily as I, and as my eyes focused on his face, I felt my breath hitch in my chest.

He made a move to continue running past me, but paused as he noticed my assumed bewildered expression gazing at his face. His body tensed up, and his eyes locked with mine. They were the same cold, dark, nearly-black orbs I had seen every day so many years ago. His features, sharp and pronounced, formed a young, handsome countenance, and his full lips, which were previously pulled back into a vicious snarl, were relaxed and slightly open. Then there were the scars. They extended from each corner of his mouth up onto his cheek, forming horrifically ragged wounds into his light skin. Without the markings on his face, I knew this face. Even with the markings… I knew him. I… knew… this man… He…

Oh my God.

He was still breathing heavily, and his eyebrows were furrowed above his eyes, a bemused expression written across his features. His eyes darted across my features slowly, and he seemed to recognize something about me as well, but our trance was broken almost immediately as I was hauled to my feet by a strong grip.

"Run, miss!"

I turned to see the older gentleman from earlier, his wrinkled hand gripping my upper arm firmly, dragging me away from the familiar uniformed man. I turned back as he forced me to run with him, and saw that the man was no longer there. I felt my heart sink. I shook it off and continued running. And I ran.

When I arrived back at the apartment, the face of the man from the parade was burned into my memory. His perplexed features were etched into my brain; his cold, dark eyes gazing into mine… the broad shoulders, the full lips…

Yes, I knew him. And he knew me.

I stumbled into my bedroom and fell onto my bed, my chest feeling tight and my stomach churning. I felt like I was going to vomit. I forced my eyes shut, my hands trembling as they fisted into the cool sheets beneath me. Sleep did not come.

- - - - -

Okay, so, what did you think? I promised he'd make an appearance, didn't I? : ) I didn't want it to be an extremely significant appearance, where you know, there's any dialogue yet, but enough so the story can progress. Please, please, please let me know what you think.