Disclaimer: I do not own DC Comics or characters associated with DC. I only own my OC.

Thanks to those wonderful people who reviewed (keep the reviews coming :] ): 'Meshi Shiroi', Lisa Marie M., Fairy Skull

Author's Note: Enjoy!

Regan hastily left Carmichael Industries hoping Mercedes wouldn't follow. Her silent prayers were answered as she climbed into the Benz. The muted drive to the station helped Regan to evaluate her younger sister.

'She didn't look like a recovering junkie. Her hair was completely healthy, skin blemish free, not to mention the lack of weight gain or loss.'

"Her habit is a lie," stated through clenched teeth. "Damn it!"

After parking her car, she sauntered into the building with her mind racing to put the puzzle together.

"Captain Carmichael, a word." She gazed to her left to see Gordon calling her.

Entering his large office, Regan took a seat and awaited his assessment.

"Narcotics is running more effectively already. I'm impressed." Gordon complimented as he stared at the city skyline.

"Thank you Sir, but I haven't—"

Her plea was interrupted, "Nonsense Carmichael, I witnessed your interaction with the unit. You've changed things."

"Well, I'm glad to hear it." She affirmed with a forced smile.

"I want to give you an accommodation for the incident days ago and for the performance displayed here." His voice was firm and authoritative.

"Yes, Sir. Is that all?" Regan muttered flustered. She never appreciated this type of attention. 'Awards mean nothing,' she thought as Gordon dismissed her, 'they're just man's measure of another's work.'

Entering the squad room, Regan took a headcount. "Ramirez, where's Ross?"

The detective glanced up with a smirk painted on her face. "Arrested with Flass last night. Apparently they were selling/shipping illegal firearms."

"Damn it, that means every collar will be questioned. Double check everything, Ramirez. I don't want any bastards getting away because of this. I'll put in for a replacement. Anything else happen last night?"

"No ma'am." She paused, "There is a letter for you on your desk."

Regan took a deep breath, "Good Work."

Willing herself to go to her office, Regan flipped on the lights and appraised her surroundings. Something was off: the letter. The letter on her desk was not normal. The elegant script, "Captain Regan Carmichael", caused her to feel anxious and uncertain. Carefully picking it up, she calmly walked to the lab adjacent to the police department. Spying the trace office, she hurried into the high-tech room.

"How can I help you?" A cute college-age boy questioned from behind a computer. "Uhh, yes." She quickly read his nametag, "Derek, I need you to check this letter for any foreign substance." She bit her lip with fear that he'd ask questions.

" Uh, okay. Is this part of a case? If so, I need the case number." He relayed as he fidgeted with his dark square-rimmed glasses. Regan took a deep breath.

"No, this isn't part of case. My life has been threatened. I'm just taking all the necessary precautions." He cocked his head in amazement. His dark blue eyes constricted ever so slightly as he placed the letter in a plastic box. "I'll open the letter in the air tight box, that way if there is any inhalant or powder substance, it'll be stuck in there. Plus, the computer will run an analysis if there is anything."

"Do it." Regan commanded with a slight edge.

Nodding to himself, Derek placed his hands in the gloves, lifted the letter, and opened it very slowly. The Captain's patience was wearing thin. 'Hurry up.' She mentally whined.

As he pulled the actual letter out of the envelope, a white powder burst forth. "Wow." Derek breathed as he glanced at the computer analysis. "It's that fear inhalant. You know the one that Dr. Crane or Scarecrow released in the Narrows a year or two back."

Turning his attention back to letter, he read for but a moment. The blood-drained from his face as his body became rigid. "Uh, umm, err. I—" He managed to stutter out before Regan shoved him out of the way. At first she thought her eyes were deceiving her or that her mind was playing tricks, but they were not. The letter did not retain the same elegant handwriting as the envelope did.

Captain Carmichael,

This powder is only a preview of what hell is to come. Gotham will be ours to use, and you will watch painfully as every good, moral person is slowly hunted and killed.

Congratulations.

"Oh shit." She muttered in doubt.

"I want a picture taken and I want copies. As well, I want Commissioner Gordon notified of this threatening letter. Derek, can you handle keeping this a secret?"

He gulped, "Yes, Captain. I believe I can."

Regan signed out of the department without concern for the number of hours required for a work-day and drove back to the mansion. After she parked the car, she paused to check her appearance. Dark purple circles had formed under her eyes and her once healthy complexion had faded into an alabaster tone. These changes made her all the more irritable. Grabbing her bag, she exited the car and absentmindedly pocketed the keys. Knowing that she could confide in Alfred, she attempted to find him. Her calm footsteps morphed into short bursts of panicked sprints. "Alfred?" she yelled frantically. As she ran through the halls, her mental stability began to dwindle. Not looking where she was going, she slammed into somebody. As she lost her balance and fell, a pained grunt greeted her ears. Giving up, she didn't move. Fighting back tears, she closed her eyes.

Strong arms encompassed her and a smooth, familiar voice questioned, "Regan, are you alright?"

Biting her lip, she whimpered, "No." She could sense the concerned look on his face. "I—" Something snapped inside her. Violent tremors rolled through her. Bruce carefully picked her up and carried her to his room. "Alfred?" he questioned quietly.

"Yes, Master Bruce?"

"Grab me her pjs." The older man raised an eyebrow but complied. Regan's mind didn't register that Bruce changed her clothes, or that he was holding her tightly. Bruce listened to her intense muttering, "She is not a drug addict. How can that be? She was one; I swear. I saw the change. She was bipolar and scary. Riddles. So many riddles and double meanings. She's trying to kill me. They're going to take Gotham and make me watch. They're going to kill everyone, Mom, Dad, and Bruce. If I lose him, I'm gone." Her muttering turned incoherent. Gently rubbing her back, he cooed, "Regan, I'm not going anywhere. Shhh. It's alright. I can fix this."

His voice pulled her from the depths of hysteria, and each word became clearer. Gulping, she gazed up at him. His chocolate eyes pierced her, but at the same time, they had a comforting effect upon her. His hands wiped away her tears, and she felt a shiver run through her entire body.

Acknowledging that she was "awake" and attentive, he calmly stated, "Regan, I need to tell you something. It'll explain my behavior earlier. I live two lives."

Regan cocked her head in surprise at him. 'He's confessing?'

"I am Batman." He searched her face for fear or a surprised expression but found nothing. "Bruce," she hoarsely whispered with a faint smile on her ashen face, "I knew you were Batman since last night. I followed Alfred into the cave. You needed a blood transfusion, so I gave you mine. I helped him carry you upstairs. You were cold, so I slept next to you. And know what? I'll do it again tomorrow night, because I love you."

Bruce closed his eyes in what looked like pain. She had heard what he had said the previous night, but the 'her' he referred to may not have been her. Regan felt her stomach drop. Was he going to reject her?

Please Review ( no flames please) Revised 6/08/10