A/N: You will notice (here in the next two second as you read) that there is similarity here to The Killing Joke, however, my ends are not the same. In the interest of plagiarism, though, I wanted everyone to know that I know this is similar in part. Also (because I keep forgetting the costume question!) I'm imagining Batman in his Hush costume. Typical, no yellow on the bat symbol etc. I'm imagining Batgirl in the Cassandra Cain outfit minus the closed mouth. Her head would look more like the animated Barbara Gordon's costume with a bad-ass body like later Batgirls. But, really, just imagine whichever costume you like best J

Chapter 10

Barb stumbled into her apartment a bit like she was drunk. She felt drunk. Did that just happen? Had she really just had sex with Bruce? And she didn't feel bad about it. She knew she should; she felt bad that she didn't feel bad, but mostly she liked the way her legs were still a little shaky.

There was no doubt that had been the best sex of her life. And damn her if she didn't want more.

Bruce had, well, could she call him delectable? He made a girl want to lick him-everywhere. The reality of the night was so all-consuming that Barb didn't notice the way her welcome mat was crooked, or that her evening light was off. She stumbled in with a stupid grin on her face, fantasizing; the men who had broken in before her didn't even have to try.

Barb's training kicked in and she spun on instinct; the solid object swung at her head missed and clocked her shoulder instead. She grunted in pain, but kicked out, her foot landing solidly against a chest. Muscular arms circled her neck from behind and she found herself in a headlock, her vision fading as the arm tightened.

"Well, well, well," a voice said from out of her view. "Little Barbie Gordon. Do you come with different outfits and your own Ken Doll?"

The Joker's twisted visage came into view as Barb hung, helpless from the arm choking her.

"I want Sleeping Barbie," he laughed, then cracked a nightstick across her temple.

Barb's first thought as she came to, was that she had to stop getting knocked out. Her second, was that she was in a lot of trouble. She didn't have her belt or her tools. No one would know she was missing for at least eight hours. How long had she been out? Why did the Joker want her?

"Wakey, wakey, eggs and bacy!" the cackle echoed behind her. A hand grabbed her hair and yanked her head back. She had lost her glasses in the fight, but she could see clearly who held her.

"What do you want with me?" she asked. He punched her, full in the face. Barb immediately tasted blood as her lip split on her teeth. That was going to leave a mark.

"What does any guy ever want from Barbie?" he cooed into her face. He swung again, and again. Barb's head snapped back with each punch. She hoped her nose wasn't broken. "You're turn boys!" Barb cracked an already swelling eye open and saw a bunch of thugs circling her with crowbars and baseball bats.

"Wh-why?" she croaked out. Her only answer was laughter as the gang went to work.

They were careful not to hit her face. No one knocked her out, but her already broken ribs weren't up to a beating like this. Barb gasped in pain and blood flew from her mouth. They hammered her knees and arms too, and she knew she wasn't walking away from this one. It seemed like an eternity before the blows stopped and Barb saw blood blossoming under her shirt.

"Bring in the camera boys!" Barb kept her head down, counting to ten over and over as she tried to breathe through the pain.

"Say 'they only hit me cause I asked for it!'" A hand grabbed her hair again and yanked her head back up. Barb saw through one eye the Joker taking pictures of her. She was tied to a chair, beaten, bloody, and helpless.

"Get these to the Comish," the Joker told the goon next to him. "And don't forget our invitation!"

Barb spit more blood out of her mouth. The Joker turned and left, his goons behind him. She saw the door shut and heard the lock slam home. She was alone.

Batman answered the bat signal just after dusk. Bullock waited for him, pacing anxiously across the roof. Batman perched on the ledge motionless and silent.

"Bout time you showed up," Bullock barked when he saw him. "The Commissioner asked that I give these to you."

The detective held out a manila envelope. Batman took it and pulled out the notebook paper and Polaroids inside.

"He said," the detective paused for a breath, "they've got his little girl. They're gonna kill her."

The Batman showed no outward change to the detective, but Bullock could feel the rage as it radiated off of his body.

"I will find her," he growled and disappeared from the roof.

Bruce felt the rage flooding his system as he gunned the Batmobile. Somebody wanted Gordon gone from this city. When the plot to kill him straight out hadn't worked, they had switched to ransom. The note offered an exchange: Gordon's life for his daughter's. Even if Bruce hadn't spent his adult life as the Batman he would know it was a lie. They would lure Gordon in, kill him and then kill Barbara. Assuming her injuries didn't kill her first.

The pictures were seared into his brain. Her face swollen, bloody; she had been tied to a chair and systematically beaten. He parked in Crime Alley and walked into the first bar. The room immediately went silent as the patrons shrank away from the Bat.

"I need information," he growled into the silence. "The first one to talk will walk out of here."

Fifteen minutes the Bat knew one more thing than he did when he went in. Nobody knew where the Joker was, but he had been putting together another a gang tonight. The pay was coming from someone up top. There was only one person with the money and power to pull a stunt like this. It wasn't Lewicki, but it was the person Lewicki had been close to before all of this started. The person whose security detail Lewicki had personally seen to for the past month after several death threats were made; death threats Bruce didn't doubt, were fake. Robert Rand, top dog of the Gotham Board of Supervisors.

Batman hated corrupt politicians.

He'd been watching him as Bruce Wayne. He'd known Rand was corrupt for years, but how had he missed a move of this extremity? This wasn't just taking bribes, this smacked of mob involvement. How had he missed it? The answer wasn't a mystery. Barbara. He'd been so distracted by her, so focused on fighting his feelings that he'd started missing things.

Batman shut it off. He shut off his worry for Barb; his fear that his feelings had caused this. He shut down everything, but his rage and analytical mind. The Batmobile roared down the streets of Gotham to the private apartment of Robert Rand.