Let's not talk about how long this took to get out, k? And how it isn't even long enough to be worth it :P Hope you all enjoy, things are gonna start picking up for this story soon as far as momentum goes. Reviews are loved, I don't own Batman/Dark Knight/Whatever you wanna call it.

"So I wowed the people, made the papers, but Foley still won't promote me," John said.

He was sitting beside the Commissioner, the sun setting and casting a glow over the old bat signal. It had turned into something of a tradition over the last few weeks, both men coming up at the end of the day. Gordon wasn't supposed to, but he often shared information from his cases with John to see if the younger officer could connect any dots he had missed. They were mostly cold cases, but every once in awhile, John was able to point something out that would warrant a re-opening of a case. It was something, made him feel a little bit more useful, but it was still too little. He wanted to do more.

"Foley's a hard man to impress," Gordon said. "He's seen more than someone as young as yourself."

John couldn't hold in his laugh, realizing he was being unforgivably rude but unable to help himself. Gordon's expression was mildly scandalized.

"I'm sorry," John said. "But Foley knows I've seen more than he has. That's why he doesn't want me promoted. He doesn't think I'm trustworthy."

It had nothing to do with his skill, or his lack of experience. A moment later, he registered the curious look Gordon was giving him and mentally cursed for saying too much. He was so eager for someone to know the truth, know who he really was under the mask of John Blake. Which only made him angrier, because John Blake wasn't supposed to be a mask, he was supposed to be the real him.

"Son? Are you alright?"

Arthur got to his feet. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'll see you tomorrow Commissioner."

"John?"

But Arthur was already heading back down, shoving the other thoughts out of his head.

He wanted to kick himself for what he was feeling though, what he was wishing for. Crime. An opportunity to prove to Foley that he was trustworthy. It wasn't like he wanted anyone to be murdered, but an attempted killing would've been helpful. Of course he immediately regretted the thoughts when they passed through his mind, but it had been two months with no progress.

He was growing increasingly frustrated, and the idea of going to check the sewers out himself grew more tempting the more impatient he got. Which was stupid, given how thoroughly he got his ass kicked last time.

John opened the door to his apartment, barely hiding his surprise when he saw Catwoman perched on his sofa. "You could just knock on my door you know."

She smiled with a small shrug and rose to her feet, slinking towards him. "But this is so much more fun." Her hand fluttered along his shoulder, slid down his chest to fiddle with the badge on his chest. He crooked an eyebrow at her. She frowned in response and stepped away, turning towards the window. "My employer wanted me to send a warning."

"Oh lovely. Gonna tell me who that boss is?" he asked, knowing the answer already.

"Can't do that, even if I wanted to." She leaned against the windowsill, then turned to face him. "My employer says you should go elsewhere for your retirement." Her expression said she still didn't buy his 'retirement' excuse, which was amusing given that he hadn't even lied to her.

"Well, tell your employer I quite like this city and don't plan on leaving."

The woman shrugged and opened the window. "You're probably going to regret that, but I'll carry your message on."

"Am I going to see you again?"

"Aw, did you miss me when I was gone?" Her pout was sardonic as she rolled her eyes.

"No, I just want to know if my house is going to get broken into again," john said.

She could only shrug once more before vanishing out the window. He sighed, wiping a hand down his face before heading to his bedroom. Not the best way to start a Friday night, certainly. He supposed it would be best to do some research though, try and figure out who Catwoman was, who her employer was, or at least a list of suspects on who her employer could be. He was pretty sure Bane was a good guess.

Then again, it wasn't like he was an expert on Gotham's bad guys, but last he checked, none of his known enemies were anywhere near the city. Which meant that he was dealing with someone new that he had pissed off. And Bane was the only one that fit that description.

Perhaps it was in his best interest to mention his theories to Bruce, though he doubted he'd be getting in touch with the man on his own terms. So in the mean time, he'd continue on as he had, dig for as much information on the man as possible, see if the man had any weaknesses, emotional or physical. Write up a profile, then figure out how to take him down. Just like any other job, and hopefully before Bane grew tired of letting Arthur run around free and have his little messenger turn into his assassin instead.

-.-

John sat across from Gordon, knowing the question on the man's lips before he spoke.

"You going to explain yourself?"

"Depends on what you want me to explain," John said.

"What you said the other day," Gordon said with a small nod, folding his hands together on top of the desk.

John looked down at his lap. "I can't sir, I'm sorry. I said too much."

"Son, you can't get promoted if you keep hiding secrets from everyone on the force," Gordon said with a crooked eyebrow. "And if you don't tell me, I'm going to have to fire you and that's not something I want to do."

"Dammit, Commissioner, we all have our secrets, let me have mine," John said. "It's not even supposed to be a big deal, it was just something that slipped out." He wished that he could shut his mouth and think over the words that insisted on pouring out, but not matter how hard he tried, he couldn't pull the mask of Arthur back on.

"Son, I'd believe you if you weren't so distressed over this whole matter," Gordon said. "Whatever this secret of yours is, it's killing you and I just want to help."

"And thank you for that, but this is a personal matter that's unrelated to work," John said.

Gordon shook his head. "If you keep all that stress inside, it's going to start affecting your work and that's not acceptable. I'm telling Foley to give you the rest of the day off. Go home and fix whatever it is that's thrown you off. Or tell me and I'll do what I can to help."

John clenched his jaw tight. "If I tell you, it can't be on the clock."

"Alright, I'll meet you where we usually talk after your shift," Gordon said.

John got to his feet and made to leave the room.

"I know you don't believe me John, but I'm doing this for your own good," Gordon said.

John released the doorknob, anger rising up hot in his chest. But he couldn't afford to blow up and let the anger out; it'd only make things worse. "I think I'll take that day off Commissioner."

"Alright John."

-.-

Arthur slammed his door shut when he arrived home, sinking down to the floor against it, fingers twisting into his hair. It was impossible to experience the adrenaline rush of the job and just go back to work, go back to being normal and in control when there was no one around for him to trust, no one to-

"I just wanted to talk over some business but it looks like you could use some help."

Arthur drew his gun, aiming it towards the speaker only to have it slide out of his grasp. Bruce stood in front of him, dressed in a well-tailored suit with his hair slicked back. His eyebrows were raised as he took in the sight before him, and the mixture of pity and something else he couldn't identify made his stomach churn from anger. He didn't need pity from anyone.

His hand scrabbled for the gun, aiming it at Bruce's chest. "Now really isn't the time for discussion."

"I think now is the perfect time. You helped me when I was down, got me back out in the world; allow me to do the same for you." Bruce stepped closer, and John clicked the safety off his gun.

"Thanks, but I'll pass," John said. "I'd like to be alone thanks."

"You're falling apart at the seams John, anyone with eyes can see that."

"So leave and I'll put myself back together," John said, finger tightening on the trigger.

Bruce moved fast, foot lashing out and kicking the gun out of his hands, sending it flying across the room. "Calm. Down."

The order was firm and all at once, the tension drained out of him and he slumped completely against the door. Bruce shrugged out of his suit jacket and tossed it over the couch arm before crouching in front of him. "So, what just happened?"

"You know what's the worst part about my old job?"

"Rhetorical question?"

John gave a short, barking laugh. "No shit. Before this, I never had to worry about my identity. I was a part of the machine, the Point Man. Now I'm here, and I have to be a person, and I don't know who I am because I spent my whole god damn life wearing a mask." The words escaped his mouth without permission, but he didn't feel like stopping them. He had spent the last few months keeping a mask up while whoever he was on the inside shifted and twisted and changed without his permission, and it was driving him insane.

"What did you do before this?"

Arthur looked at him. "Dream work. Illegally stole information from people's minds, tried to make the world a better place by going around the law. Didn't work as well as I thought it would so-"

"You became a cop." Bruce sat down, arms hanging over his knees.

For a moment, the hilarity of the entire situation made him laugh, head thunking back against the wooden door. "I've got Bruce fucking Wayne sitting on my floor giving me a therapy session. What the hell."

Bruce snorted, and his reaction drew another laugh from John's chest. "Feeling better now?"

"Yeah, I guess, and that's the important thing right?" Arthur said, shoving the rest of his bad feelings to the back of his mind. "You said you had business to discuss, and given that you aren't in the bat suit, I'm assuming it isn't criminal related."

"Actually, I'm not sure," Bruce said, getting back to his feet. "I was hoping I could employ your skills. Skills from your old life."

Arthur shook his head as he stood up. "I'm trying not to get sucked back into vigilante work."

"Not vigilante, it's for my business," Bruce said.

"What do you want?"

"Information," Bruce said. "Checking the backgrounds of everyone on the executive board of Wayne Enterprises. I need to know if they check out clean."

"Can't you do that yourself?" Arthur moved across the room to pick up his gun, clicking the safety back on and shoving it in its holster. "You were able to find out my name. You're no push over when it comes to digging."

"But you're better."

Arthur shook his head. "Don't ask me to go back to that life. It's a slippery slope I don't want to be on."

"You know, you are a complete stranger. And you know my true identity. That, normally, isn't a risk I'm willing to let happen, but I'm trusting you now."

"Flattery of any kind will get you nowhere," Arthur said. "I'm not helping you, not with this."

"Alright, I can accept that," Bruce said, shoving his hands in his pockets. "But can I ask you another favor? This one being entirely legal of course."

"No harm in asking," Arthur said with a shrug.

"I need a system of mine encrypted, need it to be unbreakable, but undetectable," Bruce said.

"What kind of secrets are you trying to hide?" Arthur asked. "Don't give me details, don't care about that, just an outline."

"You'll do it?" Bruce asked, genuinely surprised.

"Never said that.

Bruce's lips quirked up into a smirk. "It's an energy source that could be turned into a weapon. I want to have the system be triggered to self destruct if it's ever weaponized."

Arthur frowned. "Doesn't that defeat the purpose? I mean, if the thing goes boom, that could be dangerous."

"By self-destruct, I mean rendered useless," Bruce said.

"You're asking for something very specific. I'd need access to the entire main frame and to work with this object directly," Arthur said. "And as you so nicely said, I'm a stranger that you don't trust that already knows a lot about you. I don't think it would be a smart move to give me even more power over you. I don't even want that kind of power." He was already carrying more weight on his shoulders than strictly healthy.

Bruce took his hands out of his pockets, arms folding over his chest as he examined Arthur once more. As if seeing him in a new light, a light Arthur wasn't sure he was comfortable being seen in. "You know, if anyone else was asked to have the power to bring Bruce Wayne to his knees, they would seize that chance. But you don't."

"Well, unfortunately, I'm not just anyone."

"Unfortunately?" Bruce's right eyebrow crooked upwards.

"What I wouldn't give to be just anyone. What do you think I've been doing since I got here?" Arthur shook his head. "I don't want that power, Bruce. I'm sorry."

Bruce sighed and picked up his suit jacket. "Let me know if you change your mind. You could be doing the world a favor."

An image of a small girl, lying in a pool of her own blood, eyes glassy, entered his mind. "The world is better off without me doing it any favors, trust me."

"I think you're wrong Arthur," Bruce said, opening the apartment door.

"My name is John."

Bruce closed the door behind him without a response.

-.-

Eames' hand slid through Arthur's hair, scratching at his scalp as the Point Man shuddered and writhed against him. His other hand was wrapped tight around Arthur's cock, bring Arthur to the edge again and again until he was practically sobbing into Eames' neck. But he was never brought over, just teased and tortured. When Eames finally shoved him over the edge, let his pleasure overwhelm and consume him, he held on tight to the Point Man, eased him down onto the bed and began working his hands over the other's muscles, working out every last bit of tension. Cleaned him up, tucked him in, and let him crash in peace.

-.-

When Arthur woke the next morning, there was a note awaiting him on the kitchen counter. He supposed he would've been worried if it weren't for the fact that he was used to people breaking in, and the handwriting was Bruce's. He remembered the flowing handwriting from his childhood, on a check Father Riley had received from Wayne Enterprises.

Do what you can to get in the papers. Once the public starts calling for your promotion, Foley won't have a choice.

Great advice, except thanks to the Dent Act, there was rarely anyone to save. Arthur rubbed the back of his neck, grabbing the letter and taking it to the paper shredder. Bruce's offer came back to him, and he searched over his memory for any sign that there was some ulterior motive to it all. The man had seemed genuine, and given what little he actually knew about his personality, it was unlikely he was devising a plan to kill anyone. He'd be protecting people legally.

The phone on the wall rang, the first time since he had moved in, and there was only one person he had given the number to. He set Bruce's note on the table and answered the phone.

"Hello."

"John? It's Father Riley."

Something cold settled in Arthur's gut. "Father? It's five in the morning."

"Yes, well one of my boys went missing. Fourth one in the last two weeks," the man said, voice strained.

"Did you file a missing persons report?" Arthur asked.

"Of course I did, for all four of them, but you know cops. These kids are orphans, no one cares if they go missing.."

John sighed. "Look, I'll see what I can push through on this, see if I can get someone on it. If not...I'll figure something out."

"Thank you John. I don't want to lose anymore kids."

"Yeah, I know."

John hung up the phone. The first bit of real excitement in weeks, capable of pumping him up to another adrenaline high so he didn't have to worry about crashing back down, at least not yet. He had another job and he couldn't come back down until it was done.

Arthur tried not to think about what would happen when he finally tail spinned out of control.

-.-

"Am I doing anything else today besides patrol?" John asked.

"Patrol is important," Foley said.

"There are kids disappearing off the streets, all from the same orphanage. You can't tell me that doesn't seem a little suspicious," John said.

"The kid's right Foley. I think we should let him build the case."

John spun around, surprised to see the Commissioner hovering in the doorway of Foley's office. The Commissioner didn't spare him a glance, moving past him to stand in front of Foley's desk. "I also want to know why four disappearances from the same place in two weeks was not brought to me attention."

"Gordon, you can't tell me you think this is a serious problem. Those kids, they aren't going anywhere, and they know it. They probably just shacked up with some gang," Foley said.

"You aren't serious," John said. "Just because they're orphans, grew up in a boy's home, you think they're gang members now?"
"John," the Commissioner said, voice sharp.

John clenched his jaw tight, keeping his mouth shut.

"Why do you want such a hot head on the case?" Foley demanded.

"Because he suspected there was something off about the orphans going missing before you did. I'm assigning him to it, Foley. Get him the missing person reports." Gordon was firm, but for a moment, John thought Foley was going to resist.

"Fine. Ross will be working with him. I don't want him just doing what he wants out there," Foley said, turning his glare on John. "You don't make a move without Ross' approval."

"I'm just trying to save some kids," John said. "Nothing else."

"See that you do, or I'm never giving you another case."

"I am more than willing to take that risk," John said.

Foley just shook his head. "I'll give the reports to Ross, you can meet him down at your car."

"Sounds good," John said with a small smile.

He didn't hesitate to get out of the man's office then, Gordon right behind him. Once the door was shut, he turned to the Commissioner, but Gordon was smiling at him.

"I bet you're wondering why I stood up for you in there," he said, planting his feet as he folded his arms across his chest. "And I'll give you the answer. After our talk, I decided it's about time I take a leap of faith and trust you."

A leap of faith.

John's jaw tightened, but he let out a strained smile. "Thanks, Commissioner."

"Just don't disappoint me."