Her dreams….

Oddly, she never dreamt about Dr. Crane and the spraying that had sent her mind into fear and hallucinatory nightmares. She could sense that her body was still feeling the effects of that mysterious spray; in her subconscious, she could understand that her physical self was rolling about, writhing on the surface she was lying on. It was just… after a certain point, hours upon hours of feeling herself suffocate, a slow process that was very much akin to what she thought Chinese water torture would be like.

At one point, a switch seemed to click off in her brain, and that was when the dreaming began. It was mainly memories she dreamt of, snatches of memories, and sometimes full memories.

"Rosie, this isn't a good idea. Anybody could get a hold of it…"

"Then I'll just have to trust to your talents to get it somewhere where it's available to you and no one else, won't I?"

"Then you won't reconsider."

The look on Rosalie's face was enough for Rachel. She bent down and adjusted the camera so that Rosalie Falcone, recent run-away, was in the center. Rachel turned the focus know until Rosalie shone clear in the light.

"Well, here we go, then."

"What do I have to say?"

"Well, how about you begin with your name?" Rachel said, her finger on the "record" button of the video camera.

Rosalie breathed in and out a couple of times. "Okay. I'm ready." She waited until she saw the flashing red light of the recording button stabilize, and then looked straight into the camera.

"Hello. My name is Rosalie Falcone. My father is Carmine Falcone, who is the leader of the biggest group of organized criminals in the city of Gotham. I am here today to testify against him. I am under no pressure; I do this of my own volition. I am being witnessed by Rachel Dawes, who is currently a student at the Law School."

I fully understand any implications that this tape may cause, and I swear," Rosalie stood up and, with Rachel following her, walked toward the camera until all the viewfinder showed was her blue eyes, framed by dark lashes and brows. "… I hereby swear that I am telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. So help me God."

"So help you God," Rachel whispered to herself as Rosalie began to pace the small room, outlining the exploits of her father. As far as Rachel could tell, they could get him on at least one charge – Manslaughter. The murder of Sebastian Salvatore was clearly the fault of Carmine Falcone. Rachel shivered, and Rosalie's voice began to break as she went on, for three hours, talking about every minute detail she could recall about every single one of Carmine Falcone's dealings with drugs, prostitutes, bribery, and, of course, murder.

After the fear and the memories came a time where Rosa lost track of herself. She felt like she was floating on water. She moved her fingers and smiled, watching the ripples make their way further and further away. So amazing that one small motion could effect something so far away…

oooooo

When Rosa Ducard finally opened her eyes, there was a man-shaped figure sitting in a chair perpendicular to her bed, and another man-figure standing up, holding a tray with precision. Things were a bit fuzzy, but she noticed light shining into the scene, and for a moment she was blinded by it. She did not move her body, only her eyes. It seemed as if the two men hadn't realized that she was yet awake, so she took the opportunity to try and figure out something about her surroundings. She lay on soft material, and soft yet heavy things lay on top of her. She was dressed in some sort of tank top – but she doubted it was cheap; it felt like silk on her skin. Her legs, also – was she wearing some kind of boxer short? At any rate, she realized, she was not dressed as she had been when… when… but when, Rosa couldn't recall. The room smelled fresh and clean, and the light shone through her eyelids. She was about to open them again when someone spoke.

"Alfred," a familiar voice said, "I've been awake for at least thirty-six hours. Shouldn't something be happening? Look – I'll go call Lucius again."

"Master Bruce," an older voice said, "I wouldn't be so hasty. Your body mass, as Mr. Fox explained, is probably twice hers, yet you both retained the same dose of the hallucinogen. She might take twice as long to recover, but I think it will be soon – she's come out of the disturbed phase, in fact, she came out of it much more quickly than you did. Probably for the same reason – body mass. You had the same dose of the vaccination; it probably worked more quickly for her."

"Alfred, English?"

"You're twice her size. You both breathed the same amount. Which body do you think was able to handle the toxin?"

"Oh."

It came back to Rosa in a rush. Batman… flying… Bruce Wayne!!... and the smothering, the black fluid, the horrible feeling of helplessness, of knowing that you couldn't do anything to prevent your own death…

But she wasn't dead. And apparently, neither was Bruce. And…. Dr. Crane!! Well, here's some solid evidence for Rachel, she thought. She smiled, then quickly rearranged her face to its passive expression.

Not quickly enough, though.

"R-Rosa?" Bruce spoke.

"Miss Ducard?" Alfred said simultaneously.

She reluctantly opened her eyes, and stared up at the pair of them. Bruce had risen to his feet and was staring down at her face.

"Yes, and yes," Rosa said, her throat hoarse and sore. Her heart sank. She wasn't wearing a mask. Her one link of protection had just been broken. "I suppose, Mr Wayne, that now you'll have to kill me?"

oooooo

The chair that Bruce had been sitting in now had a companion – a large stuffed armchair, which Rosa sank into after being helped up by Alfred and, embarrassingly, by Bruce. It was much different to feel those arms around her waist without their gauntlets, while knowing that this person who was holding her was Bruce Wayne, and not Batman. She wasn't sure which personality she was more comfortable with.

"You're very brave," Alfred said. "Stalking Master Bruce like that."

"I wouldn't say it was stalking, Mr. Penny…"

"Alfred. Everyone calls me Alfred, Miss Ducard, and I expect you to make no exception."

"Well, then it's Rosa, and not 'Miss Ducard,' all right?"

"It seems as if we have a deal." He handed her a khaki green drink that looked absolutely disgusting. Rosa looked at the drink, then at Alfred, who was still standing straight beside her, holding the silver tray as if he was waiting for the empty cup. Which he probably was, Rosa thought. Talk about killing with kindness. She looked at the concoction again and then downed it. It tasted just like it looked. Making a face, Rosa put the glass back on the tray, coughing out a "thank you."

Alfred left the room just as Bruce was coming in.

And it just keeps getting better and better… Rosa thought. She tried to refrain from wincing as he took the straight-backed chair next to her.

"You were out for four and a half days," he said in a quiet voice. "But I guess the plus side is that you're now immune to that toxin. Alfred didn't know what to do after the second day, so he called in a sort of… specialist. He made the vaccinations."

Rosa remained silent, forcing Bruce to speak again.

"I… I don't understand why this is important to you."

"Why is it important to you, Bruce Wayne? Why the hell should it be important to someone who has everything?" She gestured weakly around the room. "And do you have to be such a dickhead when you're not…?" She didn't want to say the word Batman aloud to him.

"I suppose that's a fair question. But I'd rather you answer first."

"You don't always get what you'd 'rather' have." She snapped.

Making a fist, Bruce pounded it softly on the arm of the her chair, making a 'flump' noise. "I. Know. That. I would like it if you… would… please… tell me why…" and the unflappable Bruce Wayne ran out of words.

Rosa reached over with her arm, and with her policewoman's grip, grabbed him by the chin and forced him to face her. She looked into it. So different, yet so similar to Batman – a figure she admired and respected, someone who had taken it upon himself to singularly change the world, without a thought to the consequences.

There is a man in that suit, always, Rosa thought. And that man has been and always will be Bruce Wayne.

With that epiphany, a light layer of calm settled over Rosa, and she brought her hand down from Bruce's chin, who immediately brought up his own hand to rub it.

"Strong grip," he muttered.

"Policewoman. No, superhero." She smiled faintly. "I am sorry to disappoint you, Mr Wayne, that it wasn't Rachel behind the mask of La Rosa Rossa…"

"Say that again."

"I'm sorry that it wasn't Rachel…?"

"No. What you said in Italian."

"La Rosa Rossa?" Rosa repeated. "La Rosa Rossa," she said again, elongating the beautiful sounds of the Italian language.

"The red rose…" Bruce had his hand on his forehead. "'So that the Falcones should know that this is my job…'" he said, repeating Rosa from the night at the docks. "Red roses – the Falcones always leave red roses somewhere on their victims."

Oh dear, thought Rosa. She put her weight on the edge of her seat, ready to bolt if she had to. She planned an escape route : roll over the bed, run to the door, lock Bruce in? Yeah, right. Because that was really going to work with the shape she was in right now.

"I've… seen you somewhere before." Bruce said slowly.

Here it comes… Rosa thought, and then decided, If he's going to know, it's going to be on my terms, not his."

"My name is Rosalie Falcone, Mr. Wayne, and I am the only child of Carmine Falcone." She set her chin and held her head high. "It would be a good idea to call Sgt. Jim Gordon at his office to let him know that I'm here. Don't worry," she added, catching Bruce's expression, "he knows. Him and… Rachel."

"And I thought there wouldn't be any more surprises for a long time," Bruce said, running a hand through his hair. "Rachel?"

"Yeah. We're really good friends. Don't you remember?"

"Oh… shit."

Rosa actually laughed. It wasn't much of one, but it was a definite signal that she found Bruce's distress funny. "And I thought I would never talk to you again," she said, giggling.

"And I thought you were taken care of. Well, I suppose any spoiled brat is allowed his dreams."

"Mr Wayne…"

"Bruce."

"I'm sorry, but I don't really think I can…"

"It's Bruce. I think you and I have been through enough together to be on a first name basis, correct, Rosa?" He stumbled a bit over the Italian pronunciation. "What does that part mean?"

"Rose."

"And Rosalie meant…?"

She was surprised that he had caught on to the change in identity. Surprised, and very pleased.

"It meant 'melody.'"

"A melodious rose." He titled his head. "… nope. Don't see it. Le Toreador would've been much better."

"So would've Dark Fairy Princess, but since when do you listen to what I say?"

"Since four and a half days ago, La Rosa. Since now."

Rosa blushed a bit.

"Do you know that Carmine Falcone is on trial, even as we speak?"

That made her jump in her seat. "What did they manage to get him for?" Then she remembered. "Ah… drug charges." She smiled.

"Yeah, guess being Batman has some fringe benefits."

"Fringe benefits?"

"You get to take out the bad guys for the damsels in distr… er… fully capable women who definitely know how to kick their own ass."

"But… Rachel. She knows where it is."

"Excuse me?

"The tape, the deposition. I made it right after I ran away. It would lock him away for good. And now that we've got evidence on Crane, he can easily be put away…"

"Whoa. Stop. I don't know if you remember, but less than a week ago you were about this close to dying." He held his fingers less than an inch apart. "Drop the policewoman bit for a while, okay? You'll never recover if you don't."

"As long as you drop Batman, Bruce."

There was a silence, a great grimacing of face, and a giant sigh.

"Fine. No Batman, no great rescuer Amazonian woman. Deal?"

"Deal." They shook hands, and Rosa sat back in her chair, exhausted.

"I wonder, can you tell me what that vile green drink was?" she said, before exhaustion began to take over again.

"You don't want to know," she faintly heard as she felt herself be picked back up and laid in the soft bed.

Her dreams were much more pleasant.