Disclaimer:I don't own any Batman Begins/ Dark Knight characters. All other characters are mine.

Exams are finally over and I am free to write again! Thanks for being so patient and for all the attention you give this story, we have almost reached our goal of 1000 reads (which is awesome :) ). The next few chapters will be a bit more action packed, so follow the story to keep reading!

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As always, stay amazing! XOXOXO -Improbable Dreamer

He reset the sound tuning and leaned back in his chair, exhausted.

Bruce had been at this for hours, studying the Joker's ransom video in different image treatments and scanning software.

If he could find the location of this mysterious steel bunker that the imposing batman was held, it might lead him to Cat.

Alfred set a cup of hot tea in front of the many screens, and sighed solemnly.

"Targeting her to get to me won't get their money back." Bruce inclined to the screens and the grinning madman.

"I knew the mob wouldn't go down without a fight, but this is different. With Cat, they crossed the line."

Alfred took a moment to respond, a thought caught on his tongue, eventually he looked up and acknowledged the repetitive video. "You crossed the line first. You squeezed them, hammered them to the point of desperation."

Bruce leaned forward and raised the bat-cabinet with the flick of a switch. A cylindrical shelf of weapons and armour rose from the ground.

"And in their desperation," Alfred continued. "They turned to a man they don't fully understand."

"Criminals aren't complicated, Alfred. We just have to work out what he's after, what he wants in return for Caterina."

Wayne was clenching his fists at his sides as he made his way to the armoured costume in the cabinet. He hadn't slept in two days, hadn't done anything or saved anyone that didn't have direct information towards Cat's whereabouts.

And still, with all the equipment and resources, he'd come up with nothing.

"Respectfully, Mr Wayne," Alfred carefully stated. "Perhaps this is a man that you don't fully understand either." He paused, waiting for a smart and aggressive retort. But Wayne remained silent and didn't even turn from the cabinet.

"A long time ago, I was in Burma," Alfred walked over to where Bruce was ignoring him. "And my friends and I were working for the local government. They were trying to buy the loyalty of tribal leaders by bribing them with precious stones. But their caravans were being raided in a forest north of Rangoon by a bandit."

Bruce finally turned, though his face portrayed annoyance at being interrupted.

"So we went looking for the stones," His butler ignored the resentment as per usual. "But in six months, we never met anyone who traded with him."

A wistfulness filled his eyes as Alfred recounted past adventures and a younger self. Bruce's own expression softened, curiosity overruling anger.

"One day, I saw a child playing with a ruby the size of a tangerine. The bandit had been throwing them away." He finished with small smile, as if delivering the plot twist of a good book.

Bruce pondered this sentence and couldn't come up with his own logical conclusion.

"So why steal them?" He asked with a shrug of his soldiers.

"Because he thought it was good sport. Because some men aren't looking for anything logical, like money."

Bruce's gaze fell on the Joker and his twisted grin, even behind the monitor he still felt an unfamiliar trickle of fear.

"They can't be bought, bullied, reasoned, or negotiated with." Alfred leaned in and gravely muttered. "Some men just want to watch the world burn."

He could almost hear the psychotic laughter behind the screen and Bruce shook his head, defiantly. "I won't let that happen, not to Cat."

Alfred paused, midway to the staircase.

"Mr Wayne?" He turned and, with a hand in his pocket, cocked his head. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but why is it that Miss Morgan has such a hold on you?"

His reply was the sharp 'tang' of metal hinges as he equipped his weaponized arm-brace.

"She doesn't seem your usual play. And, once again in utmost respect, she appears a little…well…youthful, pardon the phrase."

Bruce clipped a series of sharp batarangs to his utility belt. If Alfred was expecting to anger him, it was a different reaction entirely, he looked up solemnly.

"She's Ashton's sister."

"Oh." Alfred seemed gravely surprised, and cleared his throat awkwardly.

"You understand. I knew who she was the second I saw her, and I owe her everything. I owe her absolutely everything."

Alfred nodded in understanding, his brow creased and his gaze lowered.

"You should be wary, Mr Wayne," his voice was barely audible. "I think she may have fallen in love with you."

But this was an issue for another time, or so he thought. Alfred left him alone in the bunker and Bruce fell back into his frantic search.

A few hours passed before a message appeared over the monitors. The only person with this contact information was Commissioner Gordon and Bruce nervously tapped his fingers while reading the message.

"Alfred!" Came his loud and urgent call, his butler ducked below the staircase and regarded him with a sense of bewilderment.

"Something the matter, sir?"

"I'm going out," He was pulling components of his armour out of the cabinet. "Gordon said someone broke into the DA's office last night."

"And this is a job for…him?"

He nodded his head at the bat-mask in Bruce's arms. In retort, Bruce turned the monitor with the message to the staircase, showing Alfred the scanned picture. A 'joker' playing card was found instead of the stolen file, and written on it, the scrawling words;

'…and stir well '.

"You didn't have to show-up."

Gordon retorted from his desk, a cup of piping hot coffee in one hand and a manila file in the other.

Batman emerged from the shadows, towering over the sitting figure and yet Gordon didn't flinch.

"The file was pretty much worthless anyway, a closed case, not even sure how he found it at the bottom of all the rubbish, but I thought you might want to be kept informed."

Batman inclined his head, gratefully, and took the folder from Gordon's outstretched hand. It had no visible labelling, nothing to indicate at its contents.

"What was it?"

"Ah, some case from 11 years ago, it should've been discarded by now, we record all the classics in the database so we don't clog up the…"

He trailed off as Batman seemed obviously distraught, clutching the folder so tightly in his gloved fingers that the edges curled in protest.

"What was it?" He repeated, slowly, his eyes darkening through the mask.

"Morgan, Ashton." Gordon seemed surprised at his reaction but read aloud from the computerised file nevertheless. "Suicide, a single SWC ripped a hole straight through the kid's frontal lobe and cracked the bricks behind. Never a pretty sight," He scrolled quickly through the crime scene photographs.

"In fact this never should've been documented in the crime folder, suicide 'aint a crime anymore, there must've been a glitch in the system-"

"-No."

Gordon looked up, surprised at Batman's sudden remark. "What do you mean, 'No'?"

"Did you ever read the original file?"

"No," Gordon continued, slowly. "It was marked as 'unimportant' and locked away under god-knows how many years of crime."

Batman dropped the file on the desk and took a seat in the adjacent office chair, looking slightly comical with his cape tucked amongst the leather.

"Commissioner Loeb took the wrong report."

Gordon was struck with the news and began to regard this robbery with a newfound sense of foreboding.

"Why would he do that?"

"Because he owed me a favour." Batman replied gruffly. The two didn't speak for about 10 seconds, as Gordon reasoned this and Batman waited with the truth.

"What you're telling me is…"

"The folder that Joker stole," He looked up at Gordon. "It's the truth about Morgan's death."

"And that is?"

"It wasn't a suicide."