Author's Note: Thank you for your reviews - they're awesome. Unfortunately, as a disclaimer, this is not going to be a happy story but that's not what Batman is. Again, props to my beta and none of this is mine, all belongs to DC.

4.

Christmas Day breaks with a massacre at an urgent care clinic. The victims laugh themselves to death, their mouths twisted in a cruel smile that haunts him. Twenty-five dead, their bodies full of the toxin that Lucius had told him was a possibility.

Twenty-five.

"It's not your fault," Barbara tells him that night. He goes to her because he doesn't know what else to do. He thought about Rachel for a moment, but their last meeting at a cocktail party was brief and unmemorable, and she has made it clear she wants nothing to do with him. He knows that Christmas is already disrupted in the Gordon household, and that she has spent the day with her aunt and baby cousin worrying over her uncle. This is a selfish move but she's the only one that understands.

("I was thinking about you," she says when he appears on the fire escape outside apartment. "I was worried," she says as she lets him in.)

"I know," he says, head in his hands. "But that doesn't make it any easier."

"Do you think he chose the shelter and the victims because of the date and the meaning behind it?" she asks. She gives him something to drink – green tea, he recognizes – and sits next to him on her futon. He feels so big, a hulking figure in the small apartment, but her presence steadies him.

"Yes," he says.

"So we're dealing with someone who creates the persona of a fool, and whose attacks are probably hilarious to him, but totally gruesome to us."

He nods, then smiles. "We?"

"Oh, totally," she says, nudging his shoulder with her own. "I'm in this for the long haul, buddy."

He doesn't know how to react – no one ever touches Batman willingly - so he just says, "I need you to look through newspapers for any other criminal activity that was ignored because it was considered tame, but could possibly be a bad joke."

"Okay. Anything else?" she asks.

"No – not yet. I need to think about this, and you've got New Years in Metropolis," he says.

"Consider that canceled," she says. "You need me more than they do."

"Go to Metropolis," he says He'd feel guilty if he took her holiday away, after asking so much already. "I can handle things until you get back."

…

Harvey Dent has a New Year's party, and Bruce shows up alone. He's gotten bored with models and doesn't want to move onto actresses, and besides, he's sure there will be plenty of attractive women at the party that he can flirt with to keep up his playboy reputation.

Rachel is there, not surprisingly, and avoids him for the most part. He wonders what he's done wrong but can only think of the massacre, and the countless newspaper articles on his exploits and the source of her disapproval is obvious. It hurts, because she's the only one that knows both sides of him and her rejection is painful and complete, because no other woman will ever know him that well.

He talks to Harvey, and the outgoing mayor and the incoming mayor before trying to catch Rachel alone (this is, of course, after several drinks). She gives him a hug and they talk about Alfred (it's so easy to have one thing in common) yet when Rachel, drunk on champagne, kisses him at midnight, he is surprised that he does not respond. Instead, he just wonders at what point he stopped wanting this and what exactly he wants now.

Rachel is not offended, not nearly as much as she could be, and slips away from him into the masses of people. There are single women, married women, all who want to sink their claws into him and he thinks for a moment of green eyes and a calm smile and traits preferable to peroxide-blonde extensions and manicured talons.

By one-thirty, the party is still going strong and he considers calling Barbara to wish her a Happy New Year. He actually goes so far as to take the phone out, find a secure location, and he almost dials but he can't. There are walls and lines and boundaries that he cannot cross because, as Batman, he cannot have emotional attachments (which means, as Bruce, he can only have a few). He might have crossed that line less than a week ago, but that was a moment of weakness and he doubts she judges him because of it.

"New girlfriend?"

He turns to find Rachel leaning drunkenly against the doorway, and he tries to smile. He's also had a few drinks (hence the almost-slip) and he shakes his head.

"No. Just checking voicemail, but it doesn't really matter. The messages will still be there in the morning," he says, closing his phone and tucking it back into his jacket pocket. It doesn't matter he thinks and it shouldn't because she will be there in two days when they meet again, and he will not be nearly so sentimental.

…

"How was Metropolis?" he asks. She did not expect him to announce his presence with that sort of question.

"I ended up not going," she says. "My uncle had to put in overtime and my aunt couldn't get off work, so I babysat my cousin. My friends came here and we went to some party at the Hotel Gotham."

He nods and so she fills up the space between them with words. "How was your New Years? Please tell me you did something fun," she says.

"Does catching a carjacker fit your definition of 'fun'?" he asks, and she thinks he's smirking.

"For you it does," she says. "So, I went through the newspapers and found one potentially-problematic article. It's this suicide-pact of an elderly couple – the wife was dying of cancer, they both took lethal combinations of prescription drugs, ended up dying in bed together. Thing is, they both had smiles on their faces. Now, I'm not one to knock the power of love – "

"You think he tested it on innocent victims," he says. Barbara nods.

"Exactly. I think that the clinic was the second hit. I think that, in order to dose that many people, whoever this criminal is wanted to test his toxin, and what better way than to pick a location where people go to be cured, with the supplies to 'treat' them?" she says.

"I think that's a good point. But I don't think he'll do anything like this again," he tells her. "He'll use the toxin, but not this way."

"Probably not. At some point he's going to need to show himself, especially if he's crafted the fool character we think he has."

She watches him as he looks out at the city. "Do you think you know who it is? I mean, you have to have an idea, right?"

"There are several Arkham inmates who have not been found," he says. "Only one of which displayed any real psychotic behavior prior to the hallucinogenic toxin Crane put in the water supply."

This is the first time he's ever spoken so explicitly with her about what happened, and it's unsettling. She's been doing this research but never has she put two and two together and thought of the human being that actually commits these horrible crimes. A person she could have passed on the street, or seen in the library. Anyone could kill all those people, could think it was funny, and it hits her like a punch in the gut. She shivers.

"Cold?" he asks. She shakes her head.

"Frightened, actually," she says. "Terrified that we are capable of such horrific actions."

"Not all of us," he says and she smiles.

"Not you. You protect us." And she hopes he never stops, because she sleeps easier at night knowing that he is out there watching over them.

"I do what I can," he tells her.

"You do more than the rest of us," she replies.

"I couldn't do it alone," he says. "Thank you for all that you've done."

"No problem. Anything else at the moment?" she asks. He shakes his head.

"I'll let you know," he tells her before heading to the roof's edge. She considers calling him back, teasing him with a question, anything to get him to stay long enough that she can figure out something more about him. He's still a gigantic mystery but she's not trying to dig deep to find out his identity. Some days, all she wants to know is that he's human, and worried about this city just like the rest of them.

…

The snow begins to melt, and the rebuilding process speeds up, and Bruce is grateful. He wants to live at home once more, and while the Cave is convenient, and his, it's still a Cave. Hotel Gotham is a hotel and not at all homey, and photographers seem to linger at the door (he's glad they don't want to come out to watch him rebuild his house – yet).

He has his own office at Wayne Enterprises, something he is grateful to Lucius for though the man always likes to remind him that all of this is his anyway. He doesn't do much work – what can he do, really, when everything is done for him – but he's there and that matters. Lucius gives him jobs but he doesn't have a title and they'll work on that in the future. Until then, both men are merely content that the company is doing fine at the moment. Besides, everyone knows Bruce is just looking for ways to spend the long hours of the day.

It's not that Bruce is uncomfortable with his money, it's just that it's almost silly to worry so much about it. Sometimes it's convenient, and sometimes it's not, and besides, it allowed him to make that donation to the library (Barbara has never said anything to him about the scarcity of their funds, but he has noticed it himself).

The book on vigilantes is at least three weeks overdue, and he sends his assistant to return it for him.

…

On the days when they don't meet it becomes apparent how emotionally invested she is in all of this – and in him. She feels like she is idling, waiting for a phone call or a note or just something from him that will kick her into high gear. Lulls between assignments are anywhere from one day to four, depending on what he needs, but it's been three months of this sort of work and she's acclimated her life to being on call.

She goes to dinner at her aunt and uncle's, works out at the gym near her apartment, calls friends in Metropolis and goes out with friends in Gotham. She goes grocery shopping or reads magazines in a book store or does anything to fill up the time because if she doesn't, she might actually start to miss him and their little talks and that would be horrible because she doesn't know him at all. He is just an average-sized man in a bat costume who says little but his actions speak louder than his words, anyway.

It's not like she has a lot of free time, anyway. She still updates her site once a week, cataloging Batman's many deeds but this time with a sense of pride since she's helped out. She saves articles relating to the new criminal for future reference. He never asked her to stop updating so she keeps doing it because it keeps her sane.

She tries not to worry about him, if he will get hurt or die, because the thought chills her to the core and she may cry, which means she really does care about her anonymous superhero and that could be a very bad thing.