Well, this was a little bit more serious than I intended, but I've read humour stories that mix it rather well, so hopefully I can pull it off. Damn ninjas. (only readers of my other stories, particularly Flameheart--which is not on this site, but on deviantart--will understand the reference) Also, Kit, Kara--cameos from Flameheart will be in this story!! I couldn't help but add Karasu in. Please, relax and enjoy!!

"If anybody needs me," I called, "I'll be in my trailer."

Stares answered me.

Grabbing my head, I'm not gonna lie it hurt like a motherfucker, I wanted to fade into blissful darkness and silence for awhile. A few people, I think maybe it was Jim Gordon's guardian, touched me on the shoulder and asked me if I was okay.

No.

I'm not.

I'm really not fucking okay.

I've just been... shit, the Joker scares me. Scratch that, he terrifies me. The sad thing is, if he weren't the spawn of Shelob the man-eating giant spider and Satan, he could've been... great. Noble. A powerful and charismatic leader, someone who could've set the world on fire.

Well... he might just do it anyways, but a little bit more literally than I meant.

Or at least Gotham.

And he's hellbent on tearing apart a man I'd watched over since he'd been born. I'd watched his first steps, his first words, I'd seen him when his heart got broken for the first time, I'd been there when his overwhelming passion for justice spurred him into politics, I'd been there when he'd fallen head-over-heels in love with the singular Rachel Dawes...

I'd be there when he died. Heaven help me, he'll be ninety-four and it'll be peacefully in his sleep, Rachel curled up next to him with flowers in her hair.

Fine. So the Joker was going to destroy the man I'd sworn to give my last ounce of existence protecting. That just meant that I was going to have to destroy him first.

Assuming, of course, that that could actually be done.

Brooding, I was left in relative peace for a few hours, going over what options I had again and again. No matter how cynical I might be, no matter how much of a bitch I am, no matter what I've seen in this world—and oh, what I've seen—the loss of human life sickens me. Isn't there enough against us without us killing each other? Why do people do this to other people, people they could've met on the streets, been friends with...?

The color drains, everything around me black and white, and I am back in 1940's Europe, ravaged by war and hatred, and the smell of burning bodies is suffocating...

"Hey."

I shook myself, and Gwen's morose face stared back at me.

Great. If it's not little miss sunshine herself.

"Come to gloat?" I snapped. "You said that I'd come across a case I couldn't handle by myself. You said that I'd have to beg before you'd help me."

She paused to think for a moment.

"Yeah, that about sums it up," she nodded.

Fun trivia: Gwen and I fight. All the time. You know those two people who bicker and fuss at each other constantly, but that just proves how close they actually are? Yeah. That's not us. We genuinely, honest-to-God hate each other. Our fights just prove that we cannot stand the presence of the other.

See, Gwen is—somehow—in charge, more or less, of us assigned to Gotham. The two of us have been butting heads ever since I came here to tackle Harvey. I don't like her, she doesn't like me. End of story. We'll work together when we have to—and do it well, I have to give us both credit for that—but we avoid each other as much as possible for the sake of peace and our sanity.

"She's jealous of you," Mary muttered to me. I raised an eyebrow.

"Well, obviously. I mean, I'm me, after all."

Mary rolled her eyes, and little Karasu piped up, all grins.

"Betcha don't know why!" she trilled cheerfully. "It's cuz she was supposed to Harvey's guardian, but they asked you to be on the case instead and got you transferred to here she was Thomas Wayne's guardian but then Chill came along and the higher ups gave her the cold shoulder haha I just made a funny even though I didn't mean it and are you going to finish your coffee?"

I stared at Karasu incredulously. That girl can talk faster and longer than anybody in existence.

"How the hell did she manage to screw that case up so damn badly? The Wayne case was a fiasco! A nightmare! The League of Shadows is gonna just eat this up. Damn Henri."

Karasu frantically made some violent slashing movements at her neck, so naturally the woman who already hated me was standing behind me and heard the—Entire. Fucking. Thing.

"Joe Chill was an unexpected and random factor," she spoke icily, voice tight and teeth gritted together.

"A guardian has to be prepared for chaos. You should have known that the little boy would be terrified of the bats," I snapped back.

I didn't hate the woman, not then at least. It's just that I hate it when a guardian's sloppy, when their work is substandard. Lives depend on us, and so many had depended on the Waynes. Their loss, the ramifications it would have for the future generations, would be devastating. I know that she's been doing this a lot longer than I have, but maybe that was the problem. I'd known guardians who got burned out, who got so frazzled and tired that they just decided to rest in peace for the rest of eternity.

Unfortunately, I'm so neurotic that retiring for me is a moot point. I'd be so bored that ten-to-one odds I'd piss off everybody around me, force them to make me be reborn, endure life all over again, until my poor soul got so worn that I ended up disappearing all together.

No. Much better to mess with lowly mortals instead.

"Well, guess what? I don't need you. I can do this all by me onesies. Go haunt somebody else, Delani," I growled back.

She sniffed, ignoring my tone. I guess at 5 feet, I'm not that threatening. That is, not until I've decided to kill you because you've pissed me off so damn much. Then, there's usually running and screaming, sometimes begging, I dunno for sure. Gets kinda hazy after the first intestine's pulled out.

... I did warn you that I wasn't a nice person.

"When Harvey Dent's blown halfway to hell and back, Rachel's dead at your feet, and the Joker is laughing at it all—lemme know so I can say 'I told you so.' Good night," she laughed darkly.

Yelling obscenities for awhile at her disappearing (literally) back, I finally died off. I wrapped my arms around my legs and did something I haven't done for quite a few lives.

I cried.

I let the tears flow out of me, the bitterness and yes, a tinge of despair, leaving me feel hollowed out and empty inside. I'd bitten off more than I could chew, and was in very real danger of choking. Harvey, the man he was now, was going to die and be warped into something hideous, something evil.

"You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain."

Either or. A or B. Door number one or door number two.

What about third options? Maybe there's a different path; it's slender as wire, winding between lives like a silver thread, but it's there, bright and shining. If I could find that path... if I could walk the razor edge of it... Maybe nobody would die after all.

Roughly wiping away my tears, I stood up. Blowing my nose into my sleeve (a little ectoplasm never killed anybody... yet), I forced-jumped. Harvey was sleeping at his desk, snoring away like he did when he was ten, Rachel coming over the manhandle him onto the couch. It was a peaceful, domestic little scene that made me want to cry all over again. Then I felt steel inside of me, my oath to protect these two lovers coming back to me.

"As guardian, I swear to do all in my power to protect my charge's life and happiness, from birth until death. I will smooth the road before him, comfort him in the dark, and hold his hand when he is dying. Upon my own immortal soul do I swear that I will never forsake this sacred vow."

That's right. Smooth the road. What do you smooth a road with? Well... Actually, I don't really know, but I've seen concrete smoothed out with a shovel.

Time to do some digging.