Disclaimer:I do not own any Batman Begins/ Dark Knight characters. All other characters are mine.

I am in the middle of exams and finding time to write will be harder. I will still try my best to upload daily, so enjoy this chapter and please leave reviews, I love hearing from you.

Stay amazing! XOXOXO -Improbable Dreamer


Bruce and his butler, Alfred, were hard at work planning the fundraiser when Cat got home.

The design studio was only a few blocks from Wayne's penthouse, and she had spent the entirety of the 10-minute drive, dreading that evening's party. She didn't particularly like Bruce's choice of company, nor did she enjoy being the willing victim of condescension for an entire night.

"I think your fundraiser will be a great success, sir."

Alfred was happily supervising the menu and guest lists as Cat stepped out of the elevator, heard this, and immediately wanting to ride down again.

Bruce turned and caught her obvious reluctance, "I know you said you don't like some of these people-."

"-Hey, that's not true," Cat shrugged of her coat and entered the livingroom, "I said I don't like 'any' of these people."

"But, "Bruce continued, ignoring the comment, "Dent needs this."

As irritating as this was, he was right. Harvey Dent would be running for Mayor in a few years and this fundraiser would greatly assist his campaign.

"Well," Cat begrudgingly agreed, "I guess I better start getting ready."

"Hard to believe you could look any more beautiful."

She shook her head, damning his flirtatious capabilities, and allowed Wayne to kiss her before she turned to the bathroom.

"Will Miss Dawes be attending?" Alfred asked innocently from behind a list of plans. This should've been passed off as a trifle inquiry, but the way Bruce suddenly averted his gaze when she turned left Cat perplexed.

"Who's Miss Dawes?"

"Uh," Wayne scratched the back of his head, "Rachel, she's just an old friend."

"Bruce? Don't lie to me."

Despite her gentle tone, her steely expression and pursed lips were nothing if not accusatory.

Unfortunately, the incident involving Mark had left Cat untrusting and she always expected to come home one day to see some swim-suit model in bed with her boyfriend.

"Trust me," said Bruce, kissing her again. "You have nothing to- "

He trailed off, staring over her shoulder. Alfred had turned on the television to the news channel, where a graphic sight was being filmed on news camera footage.

"Oh my god," Cat's hands flew to her mouth. "Is that a person?"

The screen was framed by the loud letters 'BATMAN DEAD?' A man in a 'Batman' costume was swinging gently, hung from a flagpole with a demonic grin painted over his face. Cat felt her stomach churn as Bruce turned the volume up, his face rigid.

"Police released video footage found concealed on the body. Sensitive viewers be aware: it is disturbing." The news anchor vanished from the screen and grainy, handheld footage took his place.

"Cat," Bruce murmured, "maybe you want to…"

"-Like hell," she replied quickly, sitting down on the leather couch for a better view.

The same hanging man was tied roughly to a chair, the small portion of his face visible under his mask was bloody and ridden with bruises. Cat could tell by the fluorescent lights and hanging pig carcases, that it was some sort of fridge or storage room.

"Tell them your name." Teased an unsettling voice.

It suddenly occurred to her that this drawl belonged to the 'photographed thief' that made her so unedged, it was a little harder to breathe.

"B-Brian Douglas," The man managed weakly. The camera advanced towards him, shaking menacingly.

"And are you the real batman?"

The Joker, as the headlines named him, was simply mocking Douglas, drawing out his death and sending a cruel message.

"No."

The man seemed on the verge of tears, blood ran down the side of his face and Cat almost left the room, visions of Ashton's own blood and the terror frozen on his corpse struck her. But Joker was speaking again and Cat was glued to her seat.

"No? No?" Joker laughed, shaking the camera, "Then why do you dress up like him?"

The make-shift mask was wrenched off his head, revealing several more bruises and a deep cut along his temple. Joker shook the rubbery mask in front of the camera in a comical way, singing loudly.

"Because…He's a symbol that we don't have to be afraid of scum like you." Cat couldn't restrain the sound of distress that escaped her lips.

Brian Douglas was obviously extremely courageous. Foolish, but courageous nevertheless.

"Yeah. You do, Brian," Joker said with mock sympathy, his purple-gloved hand shot out and lurched Douglas' head back by his hair. "You REALLY do!"

He began to whimper again and Joker shushed him quickly with a strange caress of his cheek.

Cat glanced over to Bruce, who was anxiously fidgeting with the remote, but otherwise displaying little to no emotion.

"So, you think Batman's made Gotham a better place? Hm? Look at me."

Brian decided that his final act of defiance would be to pointedly stare at the concrete ground.

"Look at me!" The Joker's unexpected shout made Cat jump in her seat. Brian's head lolled back slightly just as the camera turned.

The chalk-white face looming from the television sent a trickle of dread down Cat's neck. He had blood-red lipstick smeared over his scarred face, but even more disturbing, was that Cat was able to distinguish that this psychopath, without the horrid makeup, would've achieved some level of handsomeness.

"You see, this is how crazy Batman's made Gotham. You want order in Gotham…" He licked his lips in sick triumph, "Batman must take off his mask and turn himself in. Oh, and every day he doesn't people will die."

Joker smiled to the camera, revealing a set of yellowing teeth, and brought it close to his disfigured mouth. "Starting tonight, I'm a man of my word." And he broke into maniacal, ear-splitting laughter while the camera spun out of control.

Cat and Bruce stared in silence at the black screen for a few moments, she was glad that he'd turned it off, but also strangely fixated on how it would play out and what exactly Joker would do to 'Brian Douglas'. She wondered, suddenly, why she was more curious than disgusted.

"I-I think you should start getting ready." Bruce managed eventually, his voice thick.

Cat made no objection this time. She was terrified, terrified for that poor man who must've met a dreadful end, but more terrified that she wanted to know exactly what that 'end' was.


The hostage video played on repeat in Cat's head for the next few hours.

Brian Douglas and his reckless heroism plagued her thoughts and she sat, for a long time, staring at her own reflection in the bathroom mirror.

She was already wearing her black satin and lace evening dress that cost more than she would've liked, and matching black heels that would become less of a good idea the longer the night wore on. Her hair was braided delicately and pulled back around to an elaborate bun that almost reached her neck

In short, Cat was substantially uncomfortable.

In a few minutes, people would start to arrive and Cat hadn't even finished her makeup.

The red lipstick hovered over her lips, her glittery 'Smokey-eyes' were glazed and lost in thought.

It was that Joker's face, his awful makeup, his horribly scarred mouth, and yet she had called him handsome.

Handsome.

What the hell was wrong with her?

Tears of shame prickled in the corners of her eyes and she began to paint her lips with a shaky hand. The bottom lip was effortlessly curved and beautifully completed. But somehow, it might have been the distracting events of the day, Cat's hand slipped on her top lip and a brilliant red streak stretched itself from her mouth, up to the bottom of her cheekbone.

There it shone, like a mark of defiance, a mark of crazy.

"You almost done sweetheart?" Bruce knocked on the door lightly and Cat was snapped back to her senses.

"Almost." Her voice was shaky and clearly disturbed.

She snatched a tissue from the counter and began to scrub, almost obsessively, at her cheek. The lipstick stain was replaced with an angry red mark as her skin punished her for the mistreatment.

Despite her reassurance, the bathroom door opened and Bruce walked in, a glass of champagne in each hand. "The guests will be arriving soon."

He handed one of the sparkling glasses to Cat, who took it with a tremor.

Bruce frowned at her cheek and didn't hesitate before he picked up a nearby bottle of foundation and corrected her mistake.

"When did you learn how to apply makeup?" He laughed in response and finished with a dab of powder.

"I dated a makeup artist for a few weeks, you pick up a thing or two." When he was satisfied with his work, he returned the foundation to her bag and helped her out of the chair by her hands.

"There," Bruce smiled. "You are beautiful."

Cat tried her best to mimic his genuine smile, but she was troubled by the lipstick. She had been applying lipstick for years, and drawing a deranged 'half-smile' had never happened before.

A chime indicated that the elevator had arrived with guests and Bruce hurried off to welcome them.

It was a few moments before Cat realised the red lipstick was still clutched between her fingers.

Suddenly furious, she aggressively stabbed it onto the sink top and turned. There was a clang, as metal met tile, and the innocent golden tube rolled forward, gently bumping against her glossy heels.

Cat refused to look at it, despite the growing feeling of dread in her stomach, and strode out of the bathroom to join Bruce greeting the guests.