Summary: Could a man dedicated to the night have it all?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Rating: T

Author's Note: At long last, I have finally written this chapter. I'm sorry it took long, but let's just say life got in the way. Enjoy and please review.

Chapter XXVIII

A host of gunfire exploded in the air like firecrackers at a Fourth of July parade. Violent screams and obscenities resonated outside a cabin suite as powerful engines revved to life a sleek, white yacht swaying peacefully in the bleak Gotham Bay.

Karen shot up in the bed, petrified by the noise, her long legs curling under her rear. She snapped a hand out to cling to the headboard as the cabin started to tilt and veer in the full maelstrom of the luxury yacht (where she was being held captive) charging out to sea. It rocked to and fro in frightening madness, plucking her suddenly with invisible hands off the soft octagonal bed where she sat, tossing her carelessly onto the carpeted floor.

Pain burned up the left side of her torso. Gritting her teeth while struggling to find her footing, Karen sank her fingers into the silk comforter, forcing her body to rise. Her legs buckled under the vibrating motions that hummed beneath the vessel. Dizzy, her whole body felt like jelly.

Frantically, she gazed about the luxurious suite; her memory full of every finite detail of its layout down to the velvety carpeting, plush octagonal bed adorned with wine colored sheets, down comforter, and rich oak wood paneling the walls and ceilings.

Without warning, the vessel leered perilously to the left and then to the right, causing an array of furnishings not bolted down to scatter and fall onto the cabin floor. Skidding like a sailor aboard a wayward ship, Karen stumbled, dropping roughly into a sofa. A loud noise sent her heart galloping like a race horse. She got to her feet and staggered nervously to the porthole, peering through the fog coated glass.

Outside the wind howled furiously and large waves swelled the black waters as a winter storm unleashed its fury on the vessel. The deck was covered in snow as it fell heavily from the ominous, night sky. She jerked backwards out of sight when she saw one of her captors spring up the railing. A gun was locked in his fist and a look of desperation and panic bleached his face white. Was it fear or the cold? Or perhaps both. Someone had sparked terror in the men holding her hostage.

Something? No. Someone.

Batman had caused them to flee the nightclub. Bruce must have located her, her thoughts buzzed. It was the only explanation. Her insides twisted and her heart sank when she was seized in all fury and dragged out into the freezing night. Karen rubbed her arm and felt the remnants of a large, powerful hand that hauled her aboard the cruiser two hours earlier. A frown creased her face; she was sure to have an ugly bruise for a week.

If she survived?

No!

She folded her arms about the upper portion of her chest, refusing to succumb to the dark thoughts struggling for dominance in her mind. She will make it out alive…somehow. She had to. For the sake of her unborn child. All of a sudden, the ship dipped terrifyingly low and surged upwards. Karen felt herself being thrown into the air and put out her hands to steady herself against the wall. Eyes clamping shut, she fought to stable her wired nerves.

More gunshots rang out. Terrified, she dropped to the knees and crawled, hunkering low between the nightstand and the bed. Her heart grew faint. Her thoughts went wild. What was happening? Had Bruce found her? Or was it a police raid? She was too scared…too confused to know the difference. Fierce tremors raced up from her toes to the top of her head at the sound of footsteps racing outside the cabin, pounding loudly in the hallway.

A high pitched scream broke pass her lips, filling the room when she witnessed a full grown man burst through the cabin door, breaking it off the hinges, fragments flying. Charging behind, Batman scrambled over the debris. Menacing. Intimidating. Ominous. He finished off the thug with a few hard blows to the face and abdomen, leaving him down and out, and perilously close to death. Karen's heart took flight at his sudden presence.

"Bruce!" She cried, peering over the bed.

He froze. Shocked. His hazel eyes expressive.

Karen remained cowered close to the floor, her eyes large in disbelief, and her cheeks white as snow. Did he not know she was even here? Did it matter, he was here. Unable to move, she was unsure if he was real or her imagination cruelly playing a trick on her. Nevertheless, he stood before her like an enigmatic specter out of an eerie dream. She opened her mouth to speak again, but no sound came out this time, only a weak huff came forth.

"Karen…" His voice was like the sound heartbreak mingled with relief and it rocked her to the core. She burst into tears. Bruce moved into action. Going to her side, he scooped her off the floor in one sweep, pulling her into his arms. The feel of his strong arms wrapping about her waist left her weak and completely disoriented.

"Karen," he murmured in her hair and this time she clung to him, afraid he would slip away. That she might've been hallucinating and at any moment he would fade like awaking from a dream.

Bruce held her tightly, felt her trembling, and heard her breath coming in short fretted pants. He could hear the tears he knew she was shedding and his heart twisted s though knife turned within it. His desperate search was over. He'd finally found her. Angling back, he tipped her chin with a gloved finger. Karen's eyes twinkled, tears splashing down each ashen cheek. He brushed them away with his thumb.

"Y-You—you found m-me—" she said timorously.

His mouth worked. He couldn't speak. He simply nodded, powerful emotions boiling inside. Without a word, he took hold of her hand and guided her out the cabin. Keeping her well concealed behind his large frame, amplified by the suit, they hurried down the corridor. Here, Karen got a close view his handiwork. The entire scene before her was absolute chaos. Bullet holes dotted the walls and electric circuits flickered from broken light fixtures.

Up ahead, water gushed out an unknown leak in the floorboard. It reached her ankles, growing higher by the minute, and was terribly cold. Barefoot—having lost one shoe and discarding the other—Karen shivered furiously. As they moved towards the exit it got deeper (rising above her ankles to her mid-calves) and she clung to Bruce when she saw men on the floor partially submerged. They hardly stirred as they passed them. Were they dead? Surely they were still alive? Karen pressed her lips together and turned an eye to her liberator who seemed rather preoccupied.

She shook the odious thought out her head. No. It was not in Batman's nature to kill anyone, no matter how much they deserved such a fate. That didn't necessarily mean he saved people either. He revealed that bit of truth to her when he told her about Ras Al Ghul and the night the Narrows exploded into a gaseous hell.

"Wait here," Batman said, his voice low and menacing, snapping her out of her thoughts. He edged close to main exit but Karen gripped his gloved, stopping his advancement. He glanced behind his shoulder, looking her square in the face. Her eyes were so full they'd appeared as though they might pop out her face. Fear. He recognized the look well.

"Don't go," she said in a helpless plea.

Batman cupped the back of her head and took her mouth in a gentle kiss. "I'm here," he assured. "I won't let anything bad happen to you again I swear. I just need to see if the coast is clear. I don't want you hurt." He gathered her close, his fingers sliding into her hair. He suppressed the ache rising in his chest, drawing back swiftly. "You trust me?"

Karen lowered head, nodding. "I'm scared."

"I know, but I'll be back." He kissed her brow and vanished into the night.

Overcome, Karen gawked after him, feeling a deep sense of abandonment. Fear and agitation settled as the yacht groaned leaning far more dangerously to the right. A surge of electricity popped and sparked as more water rushed into the sinking cruiser. She hopped into the stairway, escaping the oncoming flood, fearful that at any moment the loose wires would fall into the water.

She lowered her eyes spying the two men now becoming swallowed up by the rising water. Alarm filled her. If they were still alive they would drown. But she felt no urgent impulse to aid in their quandary. Not after they'd taken her hostage for no apparent reason except to extort money from a man she barely knew as her father. A man who'd stolen a large sum of money from mob boss.

Groaning, Karen felt a headache growing behind her eyes and touch the sole of her fingers to her temple. All of a sudden a strong hand clawed into her hair, seizing the darks locks to careen her head up and back.

She yelped as feverish flames shot to the roots of her hair. Eyes wide, her vision collided into the full view of Vincent Pannelli. He was a terrible sight to behold. Soaked to the bone, blood trickled down the hood's face from a large gash in his forehead. His eyes were wild and dangerous…a murderous look on his face.

His grip tightened in her hair. "You've cost me nothing but trouble and a shit load of money!" He hissed jabbing his gun into her ribcage. "But there are other methods of acquiring what I want." He took her arm and started to forcibly move her to the exit. She struggled and he cocked the gun. "Give me a reason…please…give me one."

Karen caught her breath in a rush of panic as she felt the end of the barrel of the gun dig into her side. Vincent sneered. "That's what I thought." He jerked, his head snapping upwards to at the sound of gunshots coming from the top deck.

"Fucking Batman! Just won't die that cockroach!" He sneered, eyes twitching nervously, and he glared at Karen. "I'm not done with you yet."

Pannelli yanked her roughly by the arm, hauling her out into the harsh night. Karen was bowled over by raging, cold winds and heavily fallen snow. She could barely see more than three feet in front of her as she was jostled to the side of the yacht that was now sinking into the waters fast.

Beyond her field of vision she saw a twinkling light…something was flashing…a buoy perhaps. Despite the state of the ship now drowning in the raging sea, it egged on to an uncharted destination, farther away from the coastline.

Pannelli pushed her savagely to the railing. Karen threw out her hands, bracing against the steel rods that circumference the ship. She cast a scolding look at her offender then looked down. Below, there appeared to be a lifeboat dancing crazily on the churning, frothing waves. She blinked. A dull ache deep in chest rose swiftly to her throat. Fear erupted.

She heard a wailing sound. At first, she mistook the piercing cry for the wind but soon she saw blue and red lights flickering and the roar of what sounded light a boat…two of them…coming towards the yacht. It seems Bruce had notified the police.

"Shit! The cops!" Pannelli shoved Karen hard. "Climb down!" She swirled round and braced against the railing. He motioned with his gun for her to move but she was frozen (quite literally) stiff in terror. He gritted his teeth and stalked dangerously to her. "I said…get down!"

"No!" she exclaimed and began to squirm and squeal as he gathered her roughly, and proceeded to scale down the ladder into the boat.

Blasting winds and a careless misstep on Pannelli's part sent them both splashing into the ice cold water. Karen saw blackness as she was swallowed into the mad waters that swirled all around her. Terror screamed inside her head; the shock of the freezing water assaulted every nerve in her body. Her lungs burned and her muscles tightened in the subzero temperatures. She kicked to the surface, breaking the top to replenish her lungs with oxygen.

Horrifyingly, she was jerked her down again into the raging sea. Her ankle was ensnared by a hand that pulled her beneath the waters. Pannelli! He was trying keeping her beneath the waves. He was trying to kill her. Panicking, Karen beat and kicked her legs out. When she connected with what appeared to be his chest she flexed and flailed out striking hard.

How long was it before brain damage settled? She had no desire to know. She fought with all her might. In the silent darkness she felt more than heard a crunch but there was no release. Al of a sudden a great suction like a vacuum pulled them both deeper into water. Karen couldn't tell from whence it came only that it loosened Pannelli's grip on her foot. Legs and arms aching, she clawed to the surface, swimming with every last ounce of strength.

Karen surged past the surf gagging and coughing, inhaling the living giving oxygen deeply. Head pounding, eyes stinging from the sea salt, she treaded in the water surveying the black surroundings. The wind still howled but the snow had abated, but light flurries continued to come down, dissipating in the salty water.

She coughed her teeth chattering as she searched for any sign of Bruce. But the yacht was gone and its place was two large boats with the markings GCPD. Floodlights were beaming on the top of each vessel. Karen hollered for help. It came in a shiny beacon of light from one the boat as the spotlight danced over the surface to shine brightly in her face.

One of the boats chugged closer and Karen was received by a friendly hand that stretched out to her. She was hauled out of the water, gripping the warm, callused, yet comforting hand. She was quickly draped in a two heavy woolen blankets and ushered into the toasty interior.

"It's all right Miss Miller. A 'friend' notified me about your predicament and sent word of your whereabouts," a tender, but authoritative voice spoke. "You're safe now."

Weak, she sank to her knees on the floor of the boat, devoid of strength. A heavy glaze coated her eyes and everything grew into a blur. Her mind became unfocused. Was this a dream? Had she drowned? Was this some kind of sick hallucination or had she really been rescued. The voices around her faded. All she could think about was 'what happened to Bruce?'.

"See anyone else out there," the same voice addressed another officer at the helm of the boat.

"Yacht's gone under lieutenant," came a response. "I don't see anyone one else."

"Call the harbor master and tell them to send out a dive crew to recover whatever bodies they find. Not that those scum bags deserve a proper burial. Let's get her out of here. She must've been in that water for more than ten minutes. Tell Briggs and Simmons to stay out here until the Coast Guard and divers arrive."

"Will do." The figure turned to pick up a radio. The boat circled and headed back to Gotham Bay. Blearily eyed, Karen stared into nothing. She was shaking nonstop. She barely made out the gentle, worn, leathery face that stooped in front of her. Soft eyes, mustache, and thick rimmed glasses.

"It's all right miss," said Gordon. He took her hands in his larger ones trying his ever best to warm them. They were small, white and freezing cold. "Paramedics are ashore. We're going to get you out of here."

"H-How? H-How? How?" she repeated over and over.

Gordon smiled and added a third blanket around her, hooding it on top of her head. "Like I said a 'friend'. Try not to speak. Everything is going to be all right."

When they arrived at the harbor, she was ushered out of the boat and into the hands of paramedics. Upon discovering she was pregnant they raced her to Gotham General. There she was poked and prodded. Pricked and pampered. Obviously, Bruce had donated a substantial amount of money to the medical facility; being his girlfriend definitely had perks as the best doctors and nurses sought to her care. Temperature stable, no apparent threats to her unborn child, she was admitted and given a private room to rest and recuperate.

For hours Karen lay on the bed in and out of consciousness, wondering the whole time what had happened to Bruce. Where was he? And why he had left her to her own devices against Pannelli. And why, after hours had gone by, he still had not come to see if she was all right.

He did come, eventually, dripping wet from cowl to boot. The cruel bitterness of a Gotham winter blowing in behind. "Are you okay?" he growled.

"You took your time didn't you," she said stiffly, turning in the warm, fluffy quilt a kind nurse had piled on top of her. Most patients were given a thin, short blanket that sometimes barely covered the feet. Not her. Not Bruce Wayne's main squeeze. The wealthy were definitely treated better.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Karen titled her head. Her eyes came close to a slither. "Which part? Leaving me for the second time or leaving me alone to fall into the hands of Pannelli."

"One of his men lured me into the engine room. We got trapped. It took some time for me to burn my way out with a torch and by the time I got through, the boat was underwater." Batman took a step closer to the bed but not too close. His cape like his suit was drenched.

It made sense now. Why he didn't come to her aid. Nevertheless, it still hurt to be left defenseless. Pannelli, the deranged psycho, tried to drown her. She lolled her head to one side, fighting tears welling behind her eyelids. She heard Bruce come close and gaze up into his masked face. He took off his glove, making an attempt to reach out and touch her; she rolled away.

He stilled at her sudden rejection of him. He cleared his throat. "How is the baby?"

"It's fine. Just fine," she croaked, tears rolling down her cheeks to leave tiny wet droplets on the pillow. "However, the doctors want me to stay here for a day or two to be sure."

"Is there anything you need…anything I can do—"

"No." Her tone was flat, unfeeling. "I think you better go before someone comes in and sees—"

Her words were left hanging in the air as she heard the flap of his cap in the harsh breeze and turned her head in time to see him close the window behind him. Her lips curled inwards. She felt bad for pushing him away and tart remark she'd given him. Still, she need some time for clarity. To sort through all the madness of the last days that was ultimately mindboggling. How she had survived was nothing short of a miracle.


The next morning Karen was prepared for a fallout. Rumor, somehow, quickly spread among the media community that she had been in a tragic boating accident with Bruce and was now residing at Gotham General. Reporters and journalist jam-packed the lower floors earnest on getting all the juicy details. Lt. Gordon mined the reins verifying the foolish story as truth to a somewhat grateful Karen. The story was she and Bruce went cruising along the harbor in one of his speed boats and had gotten caught in the storm. A sensible person would ask why they were going out on the water in the middle of winter, but the press ate it up like hot, buttery pancakes.

Eventually, she was allowed visitors, not before answering a few questions. She willingly gave him a detailed testimony of all events leading to her captivity on the boat. Gordon asked her what she knew about Aaron Powers. Honesty being her best policy, she told him that Powers claimed to be her long lost father. The shock on the season cop's face was forever imprinted in her mind.

"Your father," Gordon choked out.

Karen's eye quickly traveled about the private, hospital room. Luckily, Lt. Gordon was alone, sitting on a stool not too far from her bed.

"He's not my father," she amended, frustration and anger in her eyes. Her hands closed on her belly, somewhat protectively, as though safe guarding the unborn child in her womb. "My father left me and my mother when I was five years old and I never saw him again."

"Until a few days ago," said Gordon carefully, his face searching the woman before him. It was hard to believe but, yes, he could see a hint of Powers in her expressive blue eyes; the bold arch in her thick brows. Her mouth, although feminine, had the artful pucker of shrewd criminal.

Karen let out sigh. Her head throbbed. Will this whole nightmare ever come to an end? "He claims to be."

"But you're not certain."

"He started coming around a while back. I ran into him at various places. He didn't confirm it till one evening."

"Was that the evening you were kidnapped by Vincent Pannelli?" asked Gordon.

She nodded. "He claims he owes him money." She started to shake in fear, covering her face. "Oh, god, if he knows I'm here—"

Gordon moved onto the bed, taking Karen's hands. He held them reassuringly. "You don't have to worry about Vincent Pannelli anymore. A CSI team just bagged his corpse an hour ago after it washed up onto the beach stiff as a popsicle. He's no longer a threat to you."

Relief swept through Karen and she gave Gordon a great smile, yet there was something in his eyes that made her weary. "But you think Aaron Powers is?"

"No." He answered. "As of right now the Batman is?"

It took all of her willpower not to become unglued at this account. Surely, Lt. Gordon was mistaken. Everyone in Gotham was aware he and the Batman had a secret partnership. "Batman? Batman saved my life. I owe him everything."

"Right now, a massive task force has been set up once again to apprehend him. He crossed the line when he attacked a convoy transporting you so-called father to Blackgate Penitentiary. It's said he sprang Powers, now Commissioner Loeb, and the FBI want his head on a silver platter."

"Why are you telling me this?" she whispered anxiously.

Gordon shrugged. "I just want you to be prepared for the onslaught…the FBI…the police…maybe even the press if they get wind of your parentage. The FBI are craving blood. They may come at you hard."

Karen lowered her head, her chest tightening as she struggled to inhale. She couldn't imagine Bruce pulling such a stunt. What was he thinking? "Thank you, Lt. Gordon, I shall prepare myself for the Feds." Her thoughts went off as she recalled two federal agents in particular and their rough handling.

At that moment, Bruce entered swiftly sidestepping Gordon to go to Karen's side. He sank onto the bed taking Karen in his arms. This time she didn't recoil but came willingly. "You all right?" he asked, nuzzling her cheeks with the side of his face. Buried in the safety of his strength, forgetting her own resentment, all Karen could do was nod.

"Mr. Wayne, I'm glad to see you are not so badly damage," said Gordon, looking him over with the inquisitive nature of a seasoned cop.

"It was hardly the major accident the press is drawing it out to be. Besides, Karen is…in a delicate condition. I was concerned about her well-being. And thank you, for handling the media. I couldn't have done a better job myself."

"Think nothing of it. It's what I'm used to." Gordon continued to watch the couple for a few minutes, before rising to take his leave and give them some privacy. "I'll leave you two alone." Reaching the door, his hand rests on the knob. "By the way, congratulations."

Karen came up quickly off of Bruce's shoulder. "How did you know?"

"I'm the father of two Ms. Miller," he grinned and walked out the private room.


Two day later, Karen was set to go home. She was given a clean bill of health and allowed to leave the hospital. However, it took a bit longer than expected as the director of the hospital swooped in like a vulture. He greased Bruce for almost thirty minutes in hopes of gaining more funding from Gotham's most affluent and wealthiest citizen.

After mowing through the press, they climbed in Bruce's Rolls Royce. Alfred expressed his delight and gratitude to heaven that she was alive and well as he drove the car through the throng of reporters and photographers; finally steering the car out on the main road. He rattled on for ten minutes before pushing a button that lifted a window to give her and Bruce privacy. There was silence inside the car to what seem to last for a lifetime.

"Still mad," Bruce asked, breaking the quiet with a blunt inquiry to last night's coldness.

Karen bowed her head, lacing her fingers together, and resting them on her lap. "No."

"It was never my intention to let you fall—"

She turned to face him. "Let's not talk about it anymore. Gordon told me Pannelli is dead. He won't come after me so let's just drop it. I just want to go home, take a nice hot bath, and lie in our bed."

A handsome smile curled his lips. "Our bed?"

She grinned. "Yeah, our bed."

Bruce took her his arms, kissing her lips. He held her face in his hands and brushed his fingers into the soft silk of her hair. "What's that?" Her hand touched something hard that was apparently hidden behind his Armani sports jacket.

"A welcome home present," he replied, reaching inside to pluck out the red velvet case. Bruce opened it to reveal a necklace. A string of black pearls. Genuine, lustrous orbs. He had purchased it at top dollar and savored the expression on her face. A witty grin eased on to his mouth as he watched her eyes grew large in wonder.

"Oh my god!"

"Now, you're not going to say…. 'Oh Bruce, you shouldn't have'…are you?" he expressed with a charming smile.

"No," she gasped, lightly feathering the exquisite necklace. "I would never say anything banal as that." Her mouth curled into a lovely. "It's…it's beautiful."

"I'm glad you like it," he grinned.

Timidly, she withdrew her hand and looked at him. A question danced in her dark eyes. Bruce stared deep into the depths and figured she was mentally asking him why he was giving her pearls; especially since his mother had been wearing a similar necklace on the night she was killed. His father had showed it to him right before he'd bestowed the gift on his mother. Like his father, he too had exceptional taste. Only the best.

"It's lovely, Bruce," she said after a short period, closing the velvet case to place it aside on a compartment in the Rolls Royce. "I have to buy a dress that can go with it."

To her surprise, he took up the case, removed the necklace and opened the clasp. "Wear it now."

Karen's face went red. "Now?"

His smile grew more pronounced. "Yes," he said, slipping the string of pearls under her chin, fastening the clasp. He massaged her shoulders and spoke softly in her left ear. "Now."

"Bruce—?"

He hushed her, touching her lips with his index finger. "Sshh…It's okay. I know what you were thinking. I don't let bother me."

"Really?" she said softly.

He stroked her cheek. "Old wounds die hard Karen. But I won't let this tiny little thing burden me to the grave."