Alfred was waiting for him in his Bat-cubby. Bruce suspected an ulterior motive behind his watching a documentary on Ireland but didn't ask. He hid a smile as he went into his bedroom to change out of his soggy clothes. Alfred hadn't made it any secret how much he liked Erin. Not that Bruce didn't agree with him.
He liked her, too.
Alfred was the one to suggest hiring Erin as his live-in care provider. "It'll lend credence to your story about sustaining injuries during the pandemonium the Joker created," he said. "And give Miss Tate a proper reason for staying here."
Bruce found he liked the idea, so he hired movers to pack up her few belongings, had them deliver cash, and a notice that Erin was vacating her apartment to her landlord. Erin balked initially but finally agreed when Alfred told her he could use help. As if I'm that difficult to take care of, Bruce mused as he entered the cubicle.
"What is it, Alfred?" he asked when he saw the grim look upon the older man's face. "Has another Batman showed up?"
"Not that I'm aware of, sir."
"Then what has you looking so grim?"
Alfred turned the television down and, looking over his shoulder, said, "Do you remember the day the Joker blew up Gotham General?"
"Of course." How could he forget? "Why?"
Alfred typed a few commands into the computer and an image splashed on the computer screen. Bruce limped closer, cursing himself for leaving the cane on his bed, and doing his best to ignore the pain that radiated from his hip to his ankle. Once he stood behind Alfred's chair, he was able to see that it was a stock image taken sometime after the explosion that turned the hospital into nothing but charred and twisted remains.
He could make out Erin in the small crowd gathered on the streets outside the building, her fiery halo a beacon that immediately drew his gaze. His brows lowered over the bridge of his nose as he took in the maroon colored scrubs she wore.
"She worked at the hospital as a nurse," he said. "I knew that, Alfred. She told me she worked at the hospital until the day the Joker blew it up."
"Yes," Alfred said with a nod. "She told you that she worked at Gotham General as a nurse. Did she tell you, though, that she was working on the same floor Harvey Dent's hospital room was located? That she was one of his nurses?"
"Yes, she did." Bruce's brow furrowed. "She's not hidden any of this from me. She's talked quite openly about how terrible Harvey's wounds were and how he refused to take any medication for the pain."
She even confessed wanting to resort to giving it to him in his IV solution but didn't because of ethics, he added silently.
"Her brother was one of the detectives left to guard Dent in case the Joker tried to attack him." Alfred pulled up surveillance video. "He left with Miss Tate right before the Joker approached Dent in his hospital room."
He had not known about that. A nagging sensation in the pit of his belly told him that somehow the key to what the Joker was planning was staring him right in the face. Linking Ethan Tate to Harvey Dent made sense. Tate was a police officer.
"How does Erin figure into all this, though?" He set a hand on the back of the chair. "What does he want with her?"
"His endgame remains as shrouded as who his agent of chaos is, I'm afraid."
Bruce's belly cramped as an awful truth washed over him, flooding him with fiery tendrils of fear, and that slow simmering rage always just below the surface.
"Have they identified who the first Batman was?"
"Yes, sir." Alfred typed a few commands into the computer. "His name was Russell Sims."
"He was one of the other guards on duty at the hospital." He looked down at Alfred. "What if Dent is what this is all about?"
"Why would this be about Mister Dent?"
"The Joker said that he had an ace in the hole during our fight. That he wasn't about to gamble away Gotham's spirit in a fistfight with Batman."
"I thought that was Mister Dent?"
"It was." Bruce studied the computer screen. "I think it still is."
"How so, may I ask?"
"Only three people know about what Dent did that night. What he planned." Bruce shoved down the guilt trying to rise up to grab him by the throat. "Myself, Jim Gordon, and the Joker. Gordon and I chose to cover-up what Harvey did. We lied to protect his reputation. To give Gotham the hope and hero it needed."
"And you think that the Joker wants to expose that lie?"
"I think he will expose the truth to crush Gotham's spirit."
"Why target Officer Tate?"
"He's killing everyone connected to Dent."
"What if," Alfred said in a voice not as steady as it usually was, "Miss Tate is the last person he intends to kill as a way of luring Batman out of hiding?"
It made sense, Bruce realized with rising dread. The Joker saw he became unhinged after Rachel. What if he opted to put another woman directly in the line of fire? It was a given he'd respond. His sense of obligation and moralistic integrity, two things the Joker lacked, would demand he'd try to save her. To atone for failing to save Rachel, he'd do whatever it took to save Erin.
Even break his one rule.
And the Joker is counting on that. He's counting on me to show up to save her. To do whatever it takes to stop him once and for all.
To stop the Joker from succeeding, he had to figure out who was not only carrying out his orders but put a stop to them.
"Hospital visitor logs and patient records are all accessible online now," he said while turning. "Cross-reference visitors with the other patients that were on Dent's floor at that time."
"And what am I looking for exactly?" Alfred asked with a lifted brow.
"Look for anybody who might be connected to either Harvey Dent, Russell Sims or Erin's brother, Ethan."
He limped to the bed and grabbed hold of his cane before making his way from the bedroom.
"Master Bruce," Alfred called out. "Where are you going?"
"To tell Erin she isn't going to attend her brother's funeral."
"Why will she not attend her brother's funeral?"
"She's his next victim, Alfred."
"Are you sure, Master Bruce?" Bruce heard the worry in Alfred's voice. "Do you honestly think he's intending to kill Miss Tate?"
"Yes, I do." He glanced back at the older man. "Until I can figure out who is working for him and put a stop to them, Erin isn't allowed to leave the penthouse. Not without an armed escort. Is that understood?"
"Crystal, sir."
…
Somebody tipped the media off. Could have been one of the cops at the scene, someone in the medical examiner's office, the security guard who phoned in the crime or the person who committed the murders. Three murder victims found in an abandoned medical office was big news in any city. Every news station in the city picked up the story within the hour. It was even slated to run on the national networks in their nightly recaps of the day's top stories.
Some of the print media managed to get their hands on the story with enough time to squeeze out early editions of the late-breaking story. Other sources all fretted over how they'd have to wait until morning before they could capitalize on this juicy story.
Erin was reading over the eulogy she wrote when she heard the familiar voice of Hiro Takayashi on the television. She looked up just as the news anchor said, "Doctor Micha Rolamanov, a tenured professor at Gotham University, and the lead Neurosurgeon at Gotham General, was found with two other victims — both female.
The identities of the women have not been released at this time, though, speculation is that the name of one of the victims is Assistant District Attorney Rachel Dawes. ADA Dawes was, of course, murdered when a warehouse in downtown Gotham exploded almost a month ago. We will have more at eleven."
The news reporter's voice droned on. Erin didn't hear any it. The notepad she held tumbled to the floor without her noticing it. The pencil slipped between suddenly nerveless fingers. Her belly cramped. A low buzzing in her head blocked out all thoughts but one: he's coming after me.
"Erin."
She lifted burning eyes to Bruce's. Saw by the glimmer of anger swirling across his face that he heard every word.
"I'm next, aren't I?"
"Yes."
…
James Gordon parked his car near the coroner's van. He ignored the shouts of the gawkers and the frantic questions shouted at him by the reporters lining the streets. He entered the remains of the building that was the scene now of three tragic deaths. Beneath the bright illumination of the spotlights from the hovering police and news helicopters, the small alley was almost brighter than the sun at its zenith.
The brightness did not bother him, it was almost a comfort after spending so much of the evening in the dark. He and Bullock watched the forensics team at work.
"It's not her."
Bullock glanced over at him. "How do you know it's not Erin?"
"Erin Tate has a much smaller build and her hair is a darker shade of red than this woman's."
Bullock just grunted and resumed watching the coroner as he examined the body. Gordon took that moment to look around the hollowed-out building. There were people here, but none of them had come to pay homage to the man and woman who had their lives tragically ended by the maniac awaiting trial.
The warehouse was as silent as the living tomb it was. The secrets it contained nothing but a faint whisper on the breeze sliding through his hair. What had happened here was a story he shared with one other man. A man who sacrificed everything to give Gotham what it so desperately needed: hope.
To protect the name and reputation of Harvey Dent, Batman allowed himself to become the villain. And now another innocent woman was going to pay the price for the lies we decided to tell to do what was needed for the people of this city.
Fury, as well as grief, surged within him for all the lies he told the past few weeks. About Batman. About Harvey Dent. The ones that hurt most were the ones he told about Dent. Gordon considered Dent his friend and an ally. He had believed in the District Attorney. He had believed in everything the man claimed to have stood for.
He imagined Gotham as it might have been if Dent had managed to put all the laws he planned into motion. There wouldn't be any need for Batman had Dent carried out his planned clean-up of not just Gotham's streets, but it's justice system, as well. Every one of those plans ceased to matter the moment Dent decided to become a murderer.
The hero Erin Tate needs now, Gordon thought darkly, is the very man we've vilified, crucified and forced back into the shadows.
Yes, the man he desperately wanted to call for help was the very same man wanted for no less than six murders. It was another lie, one of the dozens Gordon found himself forced to tell so law and order could be restored to the city of Gotham.
Are you out there watching right now? Gordon silently asked the absent hero as he slowly began to walk over to where the coroner waited to talk with him. Have you seen what he's doing? How he's going after another innocent woman? He's threatening to kill her if we do not reveal the truth about what happened here.
Gordon drew in a deep breath and glanced up at the charred beam Batman clung with his left hand, clutching his precious son against him in his right. I don't know if I can stop what the Joker has planned. I don't know if I can save her. I don't have any right to even ask you for this...
But I need your help.
Then that thought turned into: She needs your help.
A/N: Hello, all! Hope this finds you well!