Disclaimer: I own nothing involving Batman, The Dark Knight, or anything related to that franchise. This is just me being creative. Only original characters belong to me.

AN: Well, I just received my first flame for this story. Apparently the reviewer thought it was moving too slowly for their tastes, which is fine. Although they are welcome to their opinion, and are free to go and find stories more suited to their liking, no hard feelings, this reviewer was rather mean-spirited, and the review has been deleted.

I did receive another review, however, that called itself a flame, but was really more of a criticism when it came to the pace of my story, claiming that it was rather dull and that they wished I would get on with it. Though I do not agree with it, I respect this reader's opinions as well, though it is sort of ironic that, had these two had stuck around for a little bit longer, they would have found the action and excitement they both sought. Funny, isn't it?

This simply makes me more appreciative of the wonderful readers and reviewers that I have. Thank you so much for your support! You all rock! Enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 21: Dramatic Rescues:

With a bruise forming at his temple and his stomach still aching from where he'd been kicked, Bruce managed to ignore the pain, instead focusing on the anger boiling inside him. The anger was mixed with guilt, since he knew it was partially his fault that this whole thing had happened. If he hadn't invited Amara to his fundraiser party all those weeks ago, none of this would have happened. What was worse was that he'd also brought her to the Ball, bringing her out into the open for The Joker to take while innocent people were hurt and threatened.

"It's not your fault, Master Wayne," Alfred said as they drove away from the hotel, Bruce clutching a bag of ice to his head as they entered the flow of traffic. "The Joker would have found out where Amara was no matter what. The lunatic has eyes and ears everywhere, and tracking her down would have been easy. He could have taken her when she was most vulnerable, possibly while she was heading into or away from the library. He might even have taken her directly from work. Therefore, you're not to blame."

Bruce gripped the ice bag tighter. He'd been given the plastic sack after The Joker and his goons had left and the bombs had gone off, shaking the hotel to its foundations. These were only distractions, however; explosives tucked into dumpsters and garbage cans in the rear of the hotel in order to cause panic amongst the partygoers and the hotel's staff. Everyone was so busy ducking and screaming that all thoughts of The Joker, his men, and their kidnap victim fled.

When the explosions had faded and the dust began to settle, things had been quickly whipped into order by Commissioner Gordon. The minute the place became quiet, the Commissioner of Police had begun shouting orders, demanding that someone hand him a phone so he could call his best people to get out there. He also ordered a few people to call 9-1-1, and for others to begin seeing if anyone was hurt.

As one of the wounded, Bruce had been briskly looked over by a doctor who was attending the Ball. Except for a few bruises, he had been pronounced fine. Ice and plastic bags had been provided by the hotel's staff, and when the ambulances arrived, Bruce had been forced to let a few emergency medics see to his minor wounds and check him out.

Finally, after being hovered over by the medics and given a clean bill of health, Bruce had thought he'd be left alone so that he could go after Amara.

Unfortunately, that was not the case. While the police took statements from the crowd and their bomb squad combed the building to make sure no more charges were set, the Commissioner cornered Bruce before he could slip away. Reluctantly, Bruce gave Gordon Alfred's cell phone number and watched as he call his butler, explaining what had happened and what needed to be done regarding the situation. Since it was Bruce's date that had been taken, Gordon had decided to escort the wounded billionaire to the police station under tight security. It was believed that there might be a ransom call from The Joker, and that a 24-hour watch needed to be put on Bruce, just in case.

However, under the sleeves of his tuxedo, Bruce pressed a button on his wrist watch, signaling for Alfred to ignore whatever the Commissioner was saying and to stay in the car. Both he and Alfred knew that following police protocol would waste precious time when it came to Amara's life, so it was no surprise when Bruce slipped away while the Commissioner was busy talking to a few panicked citizens. Once he was out of the ballroom, he snuck out a side door to the car and told Alfred to floor it.

"How are you going to find out where she is?" Alfred asked as they merged into a lane of traffic. "Amara could be anywhere, and it's not like we know where The Joker's hide out is."

Bruce had to smile. "I gave her a ruby pendant to wear tonight," he said, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his tux. "I thought to be extra cautious and had Lucius Fox put a small GPS tracking device in it. There will be no trouble finding her."

It wasn't long before they arrived at the penthouse, Alfred dropping his employer off so that he could race inside and change into a more appropriate suit. The moment he was changed, Batman raced down to the Tumbler and floored out onto the streets of Gotham, focused on the glowing dot that pulsed on the computer screen.

Her second ride with The Joker was just as terrifying as the first, if not more so. This time, Amara was alone in the back of a car with him, which, in her mind, was a very bad thing. The Joker wouldn't try anything with his goons around, but when it was just him with her, she felt eerily exposed and vulnerable, particularly when there was a knife hovering near her.

It was frighteningly quiet, too. For some reason, she expected The Joker to be a talkative person, but for some reason, he said nothing. Strangely enough, he was actually humming, a random tune that he seemed to be making up as he went along. His mouth was in a broad smile as he looked around, eyes darting from one part of the car to another as one of his gloved hands remained on her thigh, occasionally roaming up to her knee, then back again.

With such a light grip on her, it was clear that the crazed man wasn't worried about Amara making an escape. Besides, his lingering touch was enough to petrify her with fear. She knew what he was capable of, and if she even thought of making a break for it, it would be a bad idea. The Joker was more like a waiting tiger than the crazed kitten he appeared just now: he was very fast, and his knives very sharp, which made him a very dangerous creature indeed.

Then he spoke.

"Hmm, don't you look lovely this evening," he muttered, lifting his hand from her leg to caress her cheek. "All dressed up for a night on the town with the city's richest, most eligible bachelor."

Amara suddenly found herself pinned to the back of the seat, The Joker's left hand gripping her face while the other waved his knife in front of her nose. He was angry, but it was a calm anger, the kind that came just before a predator struck. It would have made her feel a lot better if he were yelling at her; as it was, a cold chill spread throughout her body, almost paralyzing her.

"Why'd you have to go for a playboy like him, huh?" The Joker whispered, licking his scarred, red-painted lips. "Guys like him don't appreciate women like you. You deserve a man who'll be more, ah, affectionate towards you."

She gulped. The last thing she wanted was to know his definition of 'affection.' With his level of insanity and cruelty, Amara knew that it was almost impossible for The Joker to feel any sort of emotion. He might claim otherwise, but he was a sociopath, someone incapable of feeling anything except a sick, twisted joy at the suffering of others. He might feel a bit of lust, but nothing more than that. All of this was just a strange obsession of his, and once he had whatever 'kicks' were to be had from kidnapping and torturing her, she was dead.

"No worries, sweetheart," he whispered, gently stroking her cheek with his thumb. "We'll be there soon, and then…then the real fun begins."

Then he backed away, sliding back into his former seat and humming lightly, just as he had before.

For the rest of the ride, Amara sat frozen in her seat, staring out the window and wondering when, not if, she was going to die.

Beside her, The Joker smiled to himself and kept a tight grip on her by draping an arm around her shoulders and holding her close. He constantly whispered to her that this was like the two of them were going on their first date, right before he burst into giggles and hugged her tightly to him. She'd elbowed him in the gut once or twice, trying to push him away out of disgust, but it only seemed to amuse him and make him want to pull her closer. Amara struggled, but when he gave her a warning look on her third attempt, she stopped.

As the car pulled up in front of a warehouse, her thoughts began to frantically alternate between prayers to whichever divinity was listening, and images of Batman. Right now, it was either a Divine Being's intervention, or (most likely) Batman that was going to save her, though it might be a mixture of the two. Either way, she just hoped that someone was going to help her, and soon.

Her stomach dropped to the floor the minute the vehicle stopped and the driver got out, quickly moving to open the passenger door on The Joker's side. Beside her, the Clown Prince of Crime rolled his eyes and shook his head as he lashed a foot out and kicked the goon in the leg.

"Ladies first!" he snarled before slamming the door shut.

The wounded man proceeded to Amara's door, grunting in pain as he did so. He opened her door and held it open, hissing as he tried to bite back his pain. She couldn't help but be happy at this, considering the man had brought her here to be tortured and possibly killed. If she couldn't issue any personal revenge with her own hands, at least he was going to be in pain for a while through his boss's.

"Out you go, darling," The Joker instructed, his voice changing from light and chipper to dark and sinister as he spoke the last word.

Following his orders without question, Amara slid out of the car and would have made a run for it, had it not been for the purple-gloved hand on her elbow. He was quick to drag her towards the warehouse's entrance, humming to himself all the while.

The interior was pretty much like the first warehouse she had been in. In fact, it could have been its twin, except for the fact that this one was nowhere near the docks. This place was as far from the waterways of Gotham as you could get, though it still smelled dank and rusty, a universal smell and telltale sign of an abandoned warehouse.

Half-dragged, half-pushed, Amara was forced through rooms of cots, televisions, computers, and weapons to a locked chamber that had to be the personal quarters of her captor. It was another scene of déjà vu, because for the second time in her life, she was once more falling onto a bed covered with purple sheets of both silk and velvet.

"You know, if you wanted a man with money, all you had to do was say so."

Amara barely heard him as she tried to scramble to the other side of the bed. A hand wrapped around her ankle, stopping her movements and hauling her backwards, causing her to shriek in terror.

"Now, now, none of that," he chided, pulling her so that her legs dangled over the side of the bed closest to him.

The Joker then proceeded to flip her over onto her back and pin her to the mattress, his knife glinting in the faint light of the room. Shivering, she looked up at him with wide eyes. She wanted so badly to get out of this, but didn't know if it would be wiser to kick him off of her and run, or to lay still and do whatever he ordered her to.

Flicking her eyes towards the door, Amara immediately knew that running would be a bad idea. There were at least six locks in place, keeping all intruders out and the two of them securely in. Worst of all, there were no large windows, only three small ones that were well out of arm's reach. Even if Batman were use whatever gadgets he had on-hand, there was no way for him to sneak inside and get to her. She was trapped.

The Joker clicked his tongue before running it over his lips. "You see?" he whispered harshly, fluttering his knife-wielding hand towards the windows. "No way for that Bat-freak to get in, and no way for you to get out. Even if you did, my goons out there would just haul you back in here, and then…then, you and I would get to continue our little bonding sessions."

She watched as the knife slowly advanced towards her face, then passed it by, vanishing out of the corner of her eye. Her stomach quivered in fear. At the press of cold steel upon her jaw, that quivering quickly turned into a stone ball, sending her gut diving into the floor. There was a sudden shot of hot pain along the left side of her jaw as the blade cut lightly into her face.

Amara gasped in pain, but did nothing else, holding her breath as she watched The Joker smile down at her. "Now, let's have some fun together, shall we?"

Satisfied with the situation, The Joker gleefully slammed his mouth atop his captive's, pressing Amara's small frame into the mattress with his weight. Beneath him, she squeaked and tried to struggled, but couldn't; the knife's blade dug into her jaw whenever she moved, and the moment she felt it, the fight seemed to drain out of her. Then she felt his other hand creeping up her thigh and started fighting all over again.

Of course, she was no match for him. The Joker had strength, height, and weight on his side, not to mention the ability to kill someone with just his bare hands. Amara knew that, but it didn't stop her from fighting.

He loved it when they fought back; it always made things more amusing for him.

Glancing at the black lace and red satin of her dress, he remembered how delicious she'd been at that party, wearing this tempting, teasing dress when all the other women wore silver, black, or other boring colors. Of course, she'd worn the gown for that playboy, but The Joker liked to think that it was also for him. She was wearing red, after all, the color she had worn to that other party only a few weeks ago. It was as though she'd been begging for him to reach out and take her all over again. So he did.

Hmm, all of the shifting she was doing was starting to make him want her even more. That was a very bad thing, because what he wanted to do to her was bound to get very loud…and very messy.

Trapped underneath The Joker's large, heavy frame, Amara began to give up her struggles. Instead, she began to shut her mind down so that she wouldn't have to endure any more than she already had. She couldn't fight him, not when he was armed and so very strong. Even if she did, she would lose.

As his hand slid up her leg and under her dress, inching towards her hip, Amara began to give up hope of rescue. No one knew where she was, and they'd never get to her in time to save her. Closing her eyes, Amara let the tears start to fall…

Just as the outer wall of the room crashed in.

Using the tracking device he'd secretly slipped around Amara's neck, Batman easily discovered The Joker's new hide out.

Parking the Tumbler a safe distance away from the warehouse, and away from the eyes of The Joker's men, he slipped into the darkness of the night, scoping out the place for ways in and out.

There weren't any. The walls were high, and the windows even higher, which weren't a problem; the sizes of the windows were. They were too small for one person to sneak into, and therefore impossible for two to slip out. He'd have to use a different strategy.

In the end, Batman decided on brute force. Using the Tumbler's X-ray sensors, he was able to see what was going on inside the building. The front section was full of The Joker's goons, all of them milling around like ants, only far less organized. Most were seated, probably gambling or talking. They'd be easy to deal with.

Turning towards the back section, Bruce saw red. There, alone in a room, were two figures, a larger one on top of a smaller struggling one, and he instantly knew who they were.

Without thinking, he slammed his foot down on the accelerator, sending the Tumbler racing through the streets and into the corner walls of the warehouse.

Amara instantly felt the weight on top of her vanish, though she couldn't see it. The room was filled with dust from the floor and the crumbling walls, making it difficult to see and to breathe. She began to cough as the makeup-caked figure before her scowled and twitched his head in annoyance.

"I'll be right back, gorgeous," he growled. "Don't go anywhere."

Frozen in fear and confusion, she couldn't have moved, even if she wanted to. All Amara could do was lay there and watch as the top of the tank pulled back, revealing the Caped Crusader within. Holding her breath, she watched as Batman seemed to fly through the air, a raised fist aimed straight at The Joker's face even as the crazed criminal lifted a knife in response.

Closing her eyes, Amara ducked and covered her head with her arms, not wanting to watch the violence that ensued.

Unfortunately, she could clearly hear it going on around her. Fists connected with their targets, causing grunts of pain to fill the air. Occasionally, there was the shrill, insane laughter of The Joker, either as he was hit or scored a wound on his opponent. It was terrifying, but Amara didn't cover her ears. She didn't even peek between her fingers, not until she heard Batman gasp in pain and The Joker laugh in triumph.

Tearing her hands from her eyes, she watched in horror as her savior gripped his side, clearly cut by the bloody knife twirling in The Joker's fingers. From what she knew, her kidnapper wouldn't hesitate to kill Batman, and she would never be able to live with herself if that happened.

Looking frantically around the room, she spotted a wooden chair near the bed, two of its heavy legs broken off and lying on the dusty floor. They were thick enough to do some damage, but not to kill, which was perfect; killing wasn't Amara's style.

With his back to her, The Joker couldn't see what she was doing, as he was too focused on Batman. She could hear The Joker taunting his enemy, asking what would happen to Gotham without its hero, and how long it would be before the city was in ruins. With him safely distracted, Amara quietly slid off the bed, her movements silenced by the silk and velvet sheets, and covered by the still-crumbling walls. Even so, she kept a close watch on him, just in case.

As she carefully picked up one of the wooden legs, Amara made sure to make eye-contact with Batman, hefting up the chair leg to show him her idea. He lowered his head, silently indicating his understanding before turning his gaze up towards his adversary, clutching his side.

"What do you want her for?" he demanded. "Ransom?"

The Joker laughed hysterically. "Is that what you think this is about? Money? That girl's worth more than the Feds have in the treasury! No, what I've got planned for her is a lot more fun and games."

He waved the blade in front of the other man's face. "Which is more than I can say about you."

Not waiting a second longer, Amara threw herself over the bed, the chair leg firmly in her grasp, and swung.

Batman's jaw almost dropped when he heard the crack that came from The Joker's skull as Amara's makeshift club made contact with it. A stunned look filled the crazed man's eyes, right before they rolled up inside his head and he fell to the ground, unconscious. When he was sure the clown wasn't going to be getting back up, Batman bent over and turned the knocked out criminal on his back.

With careful fingers, Batman lifted the unconscious man's eyelids and felt around the skull. "I don't think you killed him," he said, turning towards Amara. "But he's badly hurt. I think you've effectively sent him into a coma, if not worse."

She nodded and managed to drop the club. That surprised him, since she'd been holding on to it for dear life. "Can we go now?" she squeaked.

Taking a deep breath, Batman nodded and stood up, biting back a grunt of pain as the slash wound in his side burned like hell. That was fine; it was only a minor graze, since he'd ducked the knife in time. It could have been worse.

But first, he had to take Amara home; everything else was second.

"Let's go," he rumbled, reaching a hand out to her.

As her fingers slid into his, the part of him that was the cool, collected Batman façade stepped back, allowing his feelings to flow through him: joy that Amara was safe, warmth that she had risked herself to save his life, and the sudden need to get her back home and in his arms, where she belonged.

Swallowing, Batman pushed all of those emotions aside and raced to his car, ignoring his pains in order to toss Amara up and into the Tumbler before jumping in beside her.

In Amara's mind, the entire ride back into Gotham was a blur. The last thing she remembered was being tossed into Batman's tank-like car, and from then on, it was just a swirl of lights and muffled sounds. Her full senses only came back when she heard the sound of an elevator bell in her ears, snapping her back to reality.

Looking around, she saw that both she and Batman were in the elevator leading up to Bruce's penthouse, and almost panicked. There was a camera in this elevator; surely someone would see her and who she was with!

"Don't worry," Batman whispered to her in his gruff voice. "I'm disrupting the signals of the camera's feed. We're perfectly safe."

She nodded and relaxed. It was then that she noticed that Batman's arm was around her waist, supporting her to stand. Turning her head, she smiled her thanks up at him, to which he nodded.

Again the elevator chimed, and when the doors opened, there was Alfred, just as he always was. This time, though, he appeared worried sick, a look that began to fade to relief when he saw who was standing in the elevator.

"Oh, Amara, thank goodness," he said, rushing forward to greet her.

Without hesitating, she threw herself at him, and was thankful that he caught her up in a hug. It almost made her burst into tears, but she held them back, happy to be back amongst people who didn't wear clown makeup and really did care for her.

After a few moments, Amara managed to compose herself and remember something very important.

"Alfred, where's Bruce?" she asked, looking around for him.

The butler cleared his throat. "I'm afraid he's not here right now, Amara."

She immediately suspected the worst. "Is he okay? Is he at the hospital? I mean, I saw The Joker and his men beat at him, but maybe they hurt him worse than I thought they did."

Alfred was quick to assure her that Bruce was fine. "I believe he went to find out if something was being done in trying to find you. I'll call him and tell him to come home."

"But he's okay, right?" Amara pressed, her hands twisting together in a panic. "I have to know that Bruce is alright, Alfred. Did they hurt him badly? Was he bleeding or anything like that? At least tell me if someone called an ambulance and if some of the medics treated him!"

A pair of heavily gloved hands suddenly grasped her shoulders and turned her around, pulling her against an armored chest as strong arms encased her in a hug.

Bruce knew it was a bad idea, pulling Amara into an embrace while he was dressed as Batman, but he couldn't help himself. In the course of a few hours, she'd been pulled from his arms, put in incredible danger, and risked her own safety for his. Then, as though that weren't enough, she was more worried for his health than her own!

It tore his heart, watching her face go from relief at being home, to panic and worry about how he was doing after The Joker's attack at the party. Alfred tried calming her, but that only seemed to push Amara closer to being hysterical, and Bruce couldn't take that. So, letting his feelings for her take over, he did what any man would do to calm the woman he loved: he hugged her.

Amara gasped, knowing exactly who had to be hugging her, but unable to wrap her mind around it. Why would Batman, of all people, be hugging her? Not that it was a bad hug, though the body armor was hard and uncomfortable to be pressed against. The arms, however, were careful to hug her just-so, making her feel safe, protected, and…loved?

"I'm so glad you're safe," the Dark Knight whispered into her ear. "You have no idea how worried I was, knowing that you could be hurt and tortured until I could find you."

Her heart seemed to both race and stop beating at once. Why was he saying these things? She barely knew him, and hadn't seen him more than a handful of times. But from the way he was speaking, it was as though Batman had a crush on her, if not something deeper.

The arms holding her slowly loosened as he took a step back. "You should sit down."

He didn't let her protest, and Amara soon found herself being escorted further into the penthouse by Batman, who knelt beside her as she sat in a cushioned chair in the dimly-lit living room. It was strange having Alfred come stand beside her chair, a comforting hand on her shoulder as Batman went to one knee in front of her, his gloved hands gently clasping one of her own. Puzzled, she watched as he reached for a compartment of his belt and pulled out a velvet box.

"I wanted to wait to do this, but I'm afraid if I do, I'll lose you again before I get the chance," he rumbled while offering her the box.

Holding her breath, she reached out a trembling hand and took it. Amara had a sinking feeling that she knew what was inside, and tried to deny it, living in the hope that it was only…well, anything but that.

With a harsh swallow, Amara opened the box and almost dropped it. Inside was a ring; the center was an oval-shaped canary yellow diamond with tiny glittering white diamonds surrounding it. From the way it shone in the light of the table lamp, it was flawless, and likely worth a fortune.

She quickly shut the lid and closed her eyes, composing herself. Gotham City's hero and guardian angel was still before her, and she had to answer him. Once her courage had been gathered, Amara opened her eyes and gave him an apologetic look.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "You are a wonderful person, and I do owe you my life, but…I can't. Though I do have a sort of hero-crush on you, I'm in love with someone else."

Raising a hand, Amara touched the ruby pendant Bruce had given her as she slowly got to her feet. "Alfred, I'm going to go clean up. I should be back out before Bruce gets back, but if not, would you tell him I'm here so that he doesn't run off again? I want to see him in person, just so I know he's alright."

Batman had risen to his feet when she did, and with his tall frame, he stopped her from leaving. "Amara, there's something I have to show you," he said in his deep voice.

Then, raising his hands, he reached for his cowl and lifted it off completely, showing her his true face.

Amara fainted.

Bruce really didn't know how he expected Amara to react, but having her collapse into his arms in a dead faint wasn't it.

"Probably because the shock was too much for her?" Alfred sarcastically suggested, reaching out to try and help. "She has had a rather long night, as it were."

"No, I'll take her," Bruce replied, swinging Amara up into his arms, bridal style. "I'll put her in my room. I want to be there, just in case she wakes up in the night."

"Very good, sir," Alfred replied with a knowing look. "Good night."

"Good night, Alfred."

Left alone, Bruce carried his unconscious love to his bedroom, and laid her gently on his bed. In the dim light of a bedside lamp, he saw it: a long, thin cut along the length of her left jaw. It was shallow and scabbing over, dark with the drying blood.

Hissing in sympathy and anger, Bruce ran for a bottle of antiseptic and a smaller bottle of clear liquid bandage solution. The solution was gently brushed over the cut and the antiseptic, both of which would help it to heal a bit faster.

Nodding in satisfaction, he quickly went into the hidden closet to change, his ears open to the movements in the other room.

In minutes, he was with her again, stretching out on the bed beside her. Amara's breathing was deep and soothing, and as Bruce placed his head on the pillow next to hers, he was drawn into sleep, his arm drifting around her waist to hold her close.

AN: Another evil-ended chapter. More fun to be had next time! Please review! Thanks!