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Jim Gordon pressed his forehead into his cupped hands and sighed. "No clues, no signs. Son of a bitch hasn't left a trace."

Batman stared at the Commissioner in silence, deep brown eyes unblinking. Gordon lifted his eyes, his fingers dragging at the lax skin beneath them, making his shadowy dark circles even more noticeable. "Well, have you anything?"

"What do you want me to say?"

Gordon threw his arms up. "Something! Anything! People have died!" His voice was high, edgy, bordering on hysterical. "Gotham needs you."

"Do you think I don't know that?" Batman rasped.

"Yeah...no. No, I'm sorry. I just..."

"You're getting desperate."

"Yeah."

"I can tell. So can he."

Gordon sat down, his back against the cold wall, and stared up into the half-hidden mask of Gotham's dark knight. "Can you find her?"

"I can try."

Gordon put his head in his hands again, giving the Batman just enough time to disappear before he raised it to say something else. He pushed himself up, and looked over the edge of the building. No sign. "Ghosts," he murmured. "I'm dealing with ghosts."

Bruce made his way through the shadows, his head spinning. Gordon's desperation, his fear; it was beginning to rub off on him as well. He swung his leg over the building's side and found his footing on the rusted ladder beneath him, giving his cape a rough tug over with him as he began to descend.

What he needed right now, was to go home. Climb into bed with as little noise as possible and hug her, soft and warm, against him. He knew he always woke her anyway; let her disapproving sigh go over his head. Working late, cave diving...she was so terribly accepting of it all.

For how long?

His legs were hanging before he even knew what was going on, and then he heard the screech of metal as the ladder ripped itself from the wall. He looked down, bracing himself, and then pushed away from it, letting himself go. His upper body took the brunt of the impact, pain shooting through the rigid breastplate, into and around his chest, knocking the breath from his lungs. He lay very still, his body yet shuddering with shock and agony.

"Well, well. That was embarrassing."

Instinct took priority, instantly, and the Batman awkwardly brought himself up from the ground, ignoring the desire to cry out at the shattering pain in his knees and chest.

"Don't get up." The Joker chuckled, edging out from the shadows and bringing himself into the glaring spotlight of the overhead streetlamp. The remainder of the ladder groaned and plummeted, landing between the nemeses. Batman stepped over it and lunged at the Joker, who easily dodged his injured foe.

"Where is Joyce Munroe?" Batman roared, surging forward once again. The Joker sidestepped, laughing. Bruce willed for Gordon, for anyone to hear, but all was silent bar the Joker's quick, excited breaths, and his own ragged ones.

"Look at you go!" The Joker stifled another laugh. "You're really on form tonight, aren't you? Now, I just wanted to have a little–" He dodged the Batman's swinging fist this time. "Chat...a, uh...one on one, if you will."

"What do you want?" the Batman snarled. His voice had that unmistakable quality of crushed glass, sharp and dangerous.

"To tell you my plan."

Bruce gritted his teeth against the pain. "For Joyce Munroe?" he struggled to ask.

"For Gotham. Joyce Munroe is just a teeny, tiny part of it." The Joker strutted forward. "Money, money, money. It's beginning to vex me. Making it, spending it, whatever. It's all people think about. Some people have so much, they don't think they have to fear any-thing. Money will get them out of it. Not any more."

"You think I want to hear this?" Batman growled.

"Uh, yeah."

He was right. Batman wouldn't turn his back on anything that might be important. Not that any of it was important. The Joker was just enjoying himself, enjoying the effect he was having on Batman and Gordon. Oh, that little chat they had up there. He had to laugh, really, just thinking about it.

"Poor things. Poor Bat. How I've missed this!" His tongue darted out and ran lightly along his red, red lips. He smirked. "Anyway, don't interrupt. I rehearsed this."

The Batman's fist connected with the Joker's mouth, finally, causing him to break out into fresh peals of laughter. "Cheeky. How can we talk if you knock my jaw outta whack, hmm?" He leapt away from Batman again, still grinning despite the blow. From the corner of his eye, Bruce noticed a black van pulling up on the curb adjoining the backstreet they were in.

The Joker took advantage of the Batman's distraction, barrelling into him and just about managing to knock him over, his form strong despite his damage. "Uh, my ride." He circled the Batman gleefully. "We're gonna have to cut this one short." The Joker began to stroll off. "In a nutshell, I want this city scared." He whirled round. "Even you."

Bruce clenched his fists, cursing his immobility, the heaviness of his armour seeming to drag at his aching limbs as he pushed himself back up onto his knees. The Joker was at the door of his van. "And, uh, Joyce Munroe...is a boring woman. I don't know just how long I can put up with her." He broke off into ringing laughter once again and hopped in.

Bruce wasted as little time as he could in getting to the Bat Pod, but time enough, it seemed, for him to be unable to track the Joker's van. He eventually returned to the penthouse, battered and broken, defeated again.

"Bruce."

He opened one eye slowly and grinned at the sight of her, arms folded tight against her chest, which rose and fell in quick sequence . "No."

She let out an indignant puff of air and dropped her arms to her sides. "What do you mean, no?"

"I'm not listening." He ran his gaze over her again, smirked, and shut his eyes, against the sunlight and against the persistent pain in his torso. "And angry doesn't suit you, by the way."

"Oh?"

"You're too short."

Angie marched to the foot of the bed, hands on hips, incredulous. "Bruce."

"Mmm." He gazed up from the pillow, drowsy-eyed, his head resting back against one hand whilst the fingers of the other idly stroked his chest. Her eyes were drawn to the movement, and all of a sudden she gasped and her stare widened.

"Bruce!"

He laughed now and sat up, causing her eyes to enlarge further still. "All right, look. It's for your own safety, Ange. I don't see why–"

"That's not what I'm talking about!" She moved forward suddenly and threw herself onto the bed before him, staring at his chest in horror. Her hand reached out to touch the great black bruises across his upper body.

"Ah, Angie, don't," he gasped, grabbing her fingers and holding them away from his body. Her eyes narrowed.

"What is it this time? Another spelunking excursion?"

He smiled weakly, but she jerked her hands from his grasp and let them fall into her lap. A soft, slow sigh crept from her lips. Bruce said nothing.

"I'll take that as a yes, then," she said bitterly, standing.

"Wait." He stood also, allowing her to fully inspect the new additions to his blackened upper body. Her forehead creased and she bit her lip at the sight. He reached out to draw her to him and saw her expression soften as she came closer.

"What are you doing to yourself?" she whispered.

He kissed her hair, saying nothing, and felt her pull back.

"I have to go." She walked slowly to the door, turning just before she was to leave the room. "Will you be here this evening?" He nodded. "Tonight?" He hesitated – she saw it – but nodded. She smiled and, without warning, ran back to him, and back into his arms. "I'm only worried, you know that."

"So am I."

She had to hold his arms – the muscles of his chest contracted with the pain of her hands resting even lightly against him.

"About what?" she asked.

"You." He began to walk her to the door again, ignoring his discomfort. "That's what you came in to give out about, right?"

"Ah! Yes. Four men following me around all day? It's a bit much."

"It is not."

"It's a bloody nuisance."

"A bloody nuisance? You're spending too much time with Alfred."

"Too little with you."

He kissed her. "No more of that." He muffled her 'hmph' with his lips, enjoying how she surged against him despite her current ire. They broke off. "I'll see you later."

She nodded, gave him one last kiss on the cheek, and was gone.

Alfred picked her up in the evening, sans bodyguards for the first time all day. That morning she had been accompanied by two of them, so was unable to talk to him about Bruce's injuries until the evening, when she would be alone.

"He was later than usual last night, Alfred."

The butler nodded. "That's right, Miss. I heard him. Busy night, it seems."

"Have you seen him?"

"Not today, Angie. He's been out all day."

"Busy day, it seems." She sighed. "He's black and blue."

"Is that so?" Alfred asked, shifting uncomfortably.

"Where is he getting them, Alfred? He's battered, again."

Alfred tossed her the evening newspaper from the dashboard, as a distraction, she supposed, and shook his head. "I can't imagine, Miss."

She skimmed over the headline, Joker Latest: Late Night Scuffle with Batman, and left it aside. "I think you can imagine, Alfred. You're quite honest with me about everything except this. Aren't you worried about him?"

"Well, of course. But I never lose faith in him, and nor should you. Master Wayne will tell you everything when the time comes."

She didn't push him. She would have her answer soon enough.

I wish I had more time to write! I'll do my best to get the next chapter done within the week but it's a bit mad, and I have my dreadful personal statement to finish for university, so no promises!

Anyway, hope you liked this one, a wee bit more exciting than the last chapter! Reviews as always are not just appreciated, but really make my world go round! Thanks for reading, loves!