Hi there! I know, I know, it has been a hot minute since I've updated this story. There's just a lot going on with the holiday's coming up and my new job and there's this drama with my time off that I'm trying to take at Xmas but whatever, y'know? Cause it really helps when I write.

So, here's the deal: this will be the final episode before we begin The Dark Knight. I know I promised another one, but I just feel like I'm dragging it out, when I have it in me to start on the movie already. This chapter is going to serve as the final layer of our foundation before we kick off the movie, and I really hope you guys like it! Not only is this chapter LOADED with hints, there's also some Easter Eggs in there ;) once you see them, let me know what you think! (Note: don't be rude, ok, a simple, 'I like it' or, 'I don't like the idea' will suffice. I'm not above deleting and blocking, y'all, I'm petty af.)

Anyway, let's get on with the story!

Note: This chapter takes place three years after the last one

"Alright, Wayne, serve it up!"

Her hair was pulled back tightly, but some pieces had fallen out and were now plastered to her forehead with sweat. The gym's AC unit was going full blast, but she was still insanely hot. Her harsh breathing slowed just long enough for her to line up her serve, ball held low at her hip, right hand ready. Slight bend in the knees, up the ball goes, jump off, follow-through…

BAM!

Kris's hand spiked the volleyball hard, sending it sailing over the net. Several members of the crowd whooped loudly, but she couldn't focus, only able to watch the other team returned it. The white ball bounced back and forth, carrying high over the net for almost a full two minutes before one of her teammates at the front had clearly had enough, and set it up. One of the tallest girls on their team ran forward, feet raising off the ground as she pounded the heel of her hand against the ball, sending it straight into the gym floor on the other side.

Right as the ball hit the glossy wood finish, the buzzer sounded, ending the game. Elation filled Kris, and she yelled out happily with the rest of her team, the girls all rushing to the center of the floor as they congratulated Maria on her spike that earned them the game. Gotham Royals winning twenty-five to twenty-four over West Gotham Wildcats, and it was a hard-earned victory; she'd been doing nothing but practice, training, and homework for the last two weeks.

It had been three years since that fateful event in Gotham. Ra's Al Ghul was dead, Jonathan was locked away at Arkham with no chance of escape or release in the near future. Kris had been officially adopted just under two years ago, and she, Bruce, and Alfred were still living in the penthouse, waiting for Wayne Manor to finish being rebuilt. Kris was now fifteen, and a sophomore at East Gotham Private School. And things were actually going very well.

So, Kris should have known that one hell of a storm was on the horizon.

It started that Monday, the week after the game. Volleyball season was winding to a close, and so was first term. That meant quarterly finals were coming up, not that they were particularly hard for her, but she enjoyed her 4.0 GPA and wanted to keep it, as well as her top spot in her science and math courses.

That Monday, she was in seventh period, which was U.S. History. Her chair was located in the middle row, right next to the window, which meant she rarely had to deal with the annoying kids that liked to sit in the back of the classroom and lob spitballs up front. While the teacher normally intervened, there were several that couldn't be very well stopped.

Nick Ramirez was more than a pest, he was downright infuriating. She'd known him since first starting at the academy back when she was twelve, and back then, he hadn't been anything close to bad. Barely her height, dark hair with olive skin, wide brown eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. Kris would even go so far as to call him a friend in those times. But, like most boys, he started to grow upon reaching thirteen. Now approaching sixteen, he was over six feet, played JV baseball, and made it his mission to make Kristina Wayne's life a living hell. Luckily, this past year he'd been very busy with some family matters, meaning he wasn't in school too much, but it would appear her break couldn't last too long.

And that's exactly what started the whole ordeal.

The first piece of paper didn't hit her, it landed near her hand. She merely ignored it, still scribbling down notes for their exam that Friday as Mr. Logue continued his teaching of WWII. Her pencil scratched against her notebook, mind zeroed in, when the second piece hit her in the arm, twice. She paused, sighing softly in irritation, before moving her pencil to pointedly brush the papers off her desk and onto the ground, turning to glare at Nick and his annoying friends as she did it. The boys all laughed quietly, but she turned around, still attempting to ignore them and turning her ears back towards the teacher.

"And with the rising threat of the Nazi's, the United States decided it was time for a new idea, something they could use for all possible soldiers, should the test work…"

Paper hit her arm and hand again, multiple pieces. Her muscles began to tense, and she shook them off, now shooting a much harsher glower towards the boys before turning around again, determined to ignore them.

"When they found the soldier they wanted to use it on, most were shocked…"

A piece on her shoulder.

"…as the young man was quite sickly and a known asthmatic…"

Another two pieces in her hair.

"…but Mr. Stark stood by his decision, as did his team…"

Her eye suddenly stung and she jumped in surprise, bringing a hand up towards it. A small ball of paper fell into her palm from where it had been shot into the corner of her eye, and she felt it begin to water immediately. Her anger and frustration at the incomplete notes in front of her grew, and she whirled around, grabbing a handful of the small papers and lobbing them back towards the boys.

"Miss Wayne!"

Mr. Logue's voice interrupted her, and her head whipped back around to see the old, graying man watching her with narrowed brown eyes.

"Is my class so boring that you find yourself in need of a physical outlet, Miss Wayne?"

"No, they were throwing paper at me! I couldn't concentrate." She protested, jabbing a thumb at the boys who were now sitting diligently in their chairs, looking to be the picture of innocence. Mr. Logue shook his head, looking annoyed.

"Mr. Ramirez is a fine student, Miss Wayne, and if you cannot stop distracting these young men, I'm afraid you'll have to be removed to the principal's office."

His complete disregard at her complaints sent her blood straight into a boil, but heaven only knew how upset Bruce would be if she got sent to the office, so she kept to herself, taking a deep breath through her nose. Shifting, she began taking notes again, ignoring the boy's eyes in her back.

"Now, as I was saying, Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes…"

The low shuffle of footsteps sounded behind her, and the there was the distinct sound of someone sliding into the desk behind hers. No one usually sat there since it was directly under the AC unit, and Gotham was currently in the middle of an early cold front. But as she sat there, still taking notes, something prodded her in the back.

The feeling made her jump a little, but upon seeing Nick behind her, she rolled her eyes and faced forward again, struggling to keep her temper at bay.

He poked her in the back again, this time right next to her bra strap. Her grip on her pencil tightened, and she shifted forward, trying to ignore the annoying, quiet laughing that was coming from Nick's crew from their spot in the back.

Then, she didn't feel it anymore. His finger didn't poke at her back again, and she relaxed slightly; there was only five minutes left of class, if he would just leave her alone until then she could go home for the day. The minute hand ticked closer and closer, and she had almost completely relaxed when it happened.

She felt the back of her bra, right near the clasp, pull back so fast she couldn't turn around in time. It snapped forward, stinging her skin and making her jump in surprise and pain. A hiss flew past her lips, and she couldn't hold it in anymore. Whirling around, she glared at Nick, who was looking delighted at her response to his antics.

"Will you stop?" She whispered ferociously, but Mr. Logue wasn't that far away, and this time, his voice was much harder.

"Miss Wayne!"

She turned around, eyes wide, to see the teacher now glowering in their direction, hands on his hips.

"I believe I already warned you about your behavior-"

"But, Mr. Logue, he snapped my bra!"

"Well, then you should have been the mature adult and ignored it. Honestly, Miss Wayne, do you think this kind of reaction will fly in real life?" The old man sighed, pinching his nose, then strode over to his desk and scribbled something on a small notepad, tearing it off and holding it out.

"To the office, Miss, now."

Kristina's heart dropped, and she stared at the teacher in shock, mouth open. "But, sir-!"

"I said now, Wayne. You interrupted my class, and this is the consequence."

Her mouth snapped shut, and blood started to rush in her ears. Standing, she aggressively shoved her things into her bag and stomped over to the teacher, snatching the paper out of his hand and smirking a little in satisfaction when the edge gave him a papercut.

Ignoring the gaze of the rest of the class, she trudged into the hallway, slamming the door behind her as hard as she could. It would probably get her in more trouble, but she didn't care. She was so angry, who the hell did either of those men think they were? Wasn't Mr. Logue supposed to protect her, wasn't that his job?

She was just nearing the top of the stairs when an annoying, familiar voice grated on her ears. "Hey, Wayne!"

Kris stopped, breathing out an irritated breath through her nose, before turning to see Nick jogging towards her, still wearing a shit-eating grin on his face as he stopped a few feet away.

"What do you want, Ramirez? I've gotta get to the principal's office."

Nick shook his head, "Damn, little miss Perfect is in trouble, huh?"

"Yeah, cause of you, shit head!" She shot back, now feeling her anger rise as his smile still didn't drop. Nick shrugged, sliding closer.

"Well, I mean, it's like Mr. Logue said. You should probably just ignore me. It's not like I undid your bra, or anything."

"You shouldn't be touching me regardless." She growled, and Nick whooped lowly.

"Wow, look at you, using such big words." He taunted, and the brunette turned, now thoroughly fed up. She just wanted to get to the office before she got in trouble, or else she'd receive a truancy, and then Bruce would really kill her.

But the strap on her messenger bag suddenly tugged harshly at her shoulder, causing her to turn, and saw Nick was attempting to rip the bag from her grasp.

"Hey!" She cried out, grabbing onto it. "Give that back! What are you doing?"

"Kristina Wayne thinks she's so smart," Nick mocked, yanking hard on the strap again, causing the two to twist in a semi-circle, "but you're not. Truth is, you're just some charity case Bruce picked up off the street. You act like none of us peasants are worth your time, like you're better than us, when really, Bruce Wayne just needed some kid to make himself look better."

His words kept hitting her like a punch to the gut, and her anger began to rise. Higher and higher, her skin grew hotter, her heart was thundering, blood was rushing through her ears, she just wanted to hit him…

"So maybe you should just go back out on the street, since that's where your mom probably had you." He sneered. "I'll bet she was a whore, too, I bet she doesn't even know who your real dad is."

At the mention of her mother, it happened. Her vision went red, and she suddenly felt like she wasn't in control anymore. She was enraged, and all she could think about was hurting Nick Ramirez, making him cry for saying such awful things to her, make him feel small for going after her. With a growl, her grip tightened on the strap.

"Don't talk about my mother!" She snarled ferociously, and use the tautness in the strap to spring forward, slamming into him. A sense of satisfaction rose in her upon her shoulder meeting his chest, and he reeled backwards, the breath leaving his body with a loud oof! but he kept going, and a look of terror and panic crossed his face as he suddenly tipped further, going over the railing and falling down the stairs.

Kris watched as his body cracked the marble stairs, his grunts and screams of pain and surprise seeming to be directed just towards her. She watched, heart still pounding and blood thundering through her body as he finally hit the ground, his head smacking the linoleum with an audible crack!

And then he stilled.

She stood there for another thirty seconds or so, her heart finally slowing, when she realized what had just happened. Horror and panic filled her, and her fingers tightened on her bag as she stared down the steps, seeing blood beginning to leak onto the floor. It suddenly felt hard to breathe, and her eyes were wide, staring at Nick's barely moving form in alarm.

What did I just do?

The car ride home was frighteningly quiet.

Maybe it was because of how contrasted the silence was to the previous events; Nick's parents showing up before Bruce, screaming at Kris, the ambulance arriving and rushing the young boy off to the ER. The paramedics on the scene had assured the adults that the teen was still breathing and still had a heartbeat, but they were genuinely concerned about a traumatic brain injury. Kris watched them in shock, unable to speak or even defend herself. Her eyes had zeroed in on the small puddle of blood, glaring at her from the swirling gray and white floor, and a horrific realization came to her.

I did that.

She had hurt Nick, she may have caused him permanent damage. What was going to happen? What if Nick died? Would she be arrested? Did this make her a terrible person? Of course it did, she hurt someone, she nearly killed him.

Yeah, but it was an accident, and if he hadn't been bothering you, none of this would have happened!

The little voice in the back of her head seemed to take on a comforting tone, but she pushed it away. She didn't want to be comforted or have her actions excused right then, she just wanted to go home.

When Bruce finally arrived, Kris wanted to run into his arms, but she didn't. In shame, she hung back, head lowered, as the principal explained everything to him. She heard his footsteps coming towards her, but kept her eyes on the floor, watching his shiny shoes and suit pants come into view. With a low sigh, her father crouched in front of her. Only then did she raise her eyes to meet his, tears still streaming down her face. She couldn't read his expression, but he held out his hand towards her, and spoke softly.

"Come on, Kris. Alfred's here with the car."

And that was where they sat, on the way back to the penthouse. Bruce had called Rachel and asked her to meet them there, but Kris hadn't been paying too much attention. She merely stared out the window, eyes glazing past the scenery. She couldn't feel much other than fear and exhaustion; she really wanted a nap.

Brue didn't start yelling at her when they arrived in the penthouse; he merely asked her to go to her room. It was only around five o'clock, but the thought of her bed made her grateful. Wordlessly, she obeyed, too ashamed to meet his eyes as she dragged her bag behind her. Once in her room, she numbly pulled off her uniform and dragged on an old t-shirt and sweatpants. Crawling into bed, she laid there, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars she'd put on the ceiling about two years back. It was still too light to watch them glow, but she could still make out their outlines.

She wasn't sure how long she laid there, but finally, she drifted off into a dark, dreamless sleep, desperate for peace.

GENERAL P.O.V

Bruce and Rachel both stood in the study. The young ADA was flipping through some of the details that Jim Gordon had just faxed to Bruce, wanting him to see the charges himself before anything got started. Nick Ramirez would live with no permanent brain damage, but he'd be laid up in the hospital for a week on recovery, and would probably suffer through some headaches for the rest of his life. He also ended up needing fifteen stiches to close up the gash in the back of his head.

But that wasn't what had the vigilante concerned.

Kris was asleep in her room; she'd fallen asleep almost directly after going in there a few hours ago. It wasn't surprising, the young teen still had a tendency to reach emotional burn out faster than most. The pediatrician had told him it wasn't anything to worry about, but he was beginning to think it may be time to take her to a new doctor, maybe one that specialized in things like this.

"Good Lord…" Rachel murmured, closing the file. "I-Are you sure this was Kris? That another kid wasn't there and she got caught with the heat?"

Bruce shook his head, watching the world outside his window with narrowed eyes. "No, she admitted to everything. You should have seen her, Rach, she…" he trailed off, shaking his head. "She's a wreck, she thought she killed him."

"Well, then she needs to know that she didn't." His best friend told him firmly, setting down the file and starting for the door. Bruce jumped up, gently grabbing her arm and pulling her back.

"Wait, wait, stop. She's sleeping, ok, it's been a long day and they're talking about expelling her, so I don't want to interrupt her right now."

"Bruce, this isn't something you can just sleep off, this isn't something you can just ignore-"

"I realize that, Rachel! But what do I say to her, huh? How do I explain to her the gravity of this situation? They're teenagers, the world isn't exactly making much sense to them past senior year!"

"This isn't just punching a bully, Bruce, she pushed him down the stairs. What if he had died?" It wasn't the first time the thought had crossed his mind, but Rachel's words still gave him pause, and she continued. "I mean, they could have attempted to charge her as an adult, they probably would have locked her up in Arkham, given her family history!"

"That won't happen." Bruce whipped around, voice dark as he glared at Rachel. "She's not going to Arkham; I'll find her a psychiatrist, someone private to talk to, someone to help her. She is not going there!"

His voice had inadvertently risen to a shout, and once he finished, he sighed, running a hand over his face. The two adults hesitated, listening carefully for the sound of feet walking down the hallway towards them, but it was silent. Bruce turned back to Rachel, continuing.

"Look, Kris is already struggling as it is, ok? I can't send her to Arkham, Rachel, I don't want her to get the message that she's doomed to end up there, just like Crane. I want her to have hope, I want her to understand that she doesn't have to end up there if she doesn't want to."

"Mental illness doesn't work like that, Bruce, and you know that. If Kris is struggling, if she is legitimately ill, then she needs doctors, medication, something. You can't just expect her to snap out of it!"

The dark knight didn't answer, instead walking over to his desk and opening the first drawer, pulling out a slip of paper. "I found a child psychiatrist; one that specializes in anger issues with children. She's a private practice, and I think it'll be good for Kris to talk to someone."

Rachel chewed on her lip, looking over the paper he handed her. It looked official, and the psychiatrist herself, Dr. Macy Levinson, looked like she came with great recommendations. But she couldn't help but wonder if Bruce was being naïve, maybe even intentionally ignorant. Kris had a problem, one that needed to be addressed before it got herself or someone else in trouble. She loved that little girl, and thought the absolute world of her. Which was why she was concerned about her; she didn't want Kristina hurting herself or someone else over something that could be prevented. Finally, she looked back up at her best friend from childhood, and nodded.

"Ok."

"Ok?"

"Yes, ok. You're her guardian, Bruce, you're her father. So, I'm trusting you to make the right decisions concerning her health, but…" she trailed off, then sighed. "I really think we need to look back into finding her birth father."

"Rach, we've been through this, it's a dead end. I've searched every data base, and I can't find anything-"

"Well, maybe he hasn't been arrested. Or maybe he changed his name or died or any number of things. The point is, we know about her mother's side. Crane's mental illness wasn't something that was ever present in his sister, so I have a hard time believing that Kris inherited it from there. What if this came from her father? What if finding him could give us answers on how to take care of her?"

Bruce's jaw ticked, a sure-fire sign he was thinking through her words very carefully, and then nodded, rubbing his face. "You're right. I'll look into it again, for Kristina's sake."

The young attorney's face dropped into one of relief, and she took a deep breath, smiling in gratitude and moving to hug her friend. They stayed like that for a minute, before Rachel caught sight of the clock on the wall, eyes going wide.

"Oh, no, I'm late. I told Harvey I'd meet him for dinner at six."

Bruce tried to smother the prick of annoyance and envy that came up at the mention of the man's name; Rachel and Harvey had been dating for about a year, something that still bothered him to no end. Much to his amusement, Kris also expressed a dislike for the man, but he also felt some guilt because he knew she only did so because she saw how much he disliked him. Maybe that was something else they could talk about.

As the brunette left, Bruce stood by the elevators, watching as the numbers descended. He stayed there for a minute, pondering, thinking, wondering what was happening. It had been one hell of a day, and he still had to get ready for tonight.

Speaking of which, the sun was descending; he should really start preparing. As he gathered his things, he looked towards Kris's door, wondering if the teen was still asleep. At first, he didn't want to risk waking her, but parental concern won out, and he slinked up to the door, carefully opening it.

Kris was, indeed, still asleep. She was curled up in a tight ball, blankets piled on top of her. As he looked closer, he saw dried tear tracks on her cheeks, and she shuddered occasionally, proving she hadn't stopped crying not too long ago. With as much stealth as he possessed, Bruce slipped into the room, moving to pull the blankets higher onto her figure. Sitting beside her figure, he placed a hand on her shoulder comfortingly, and began to hum.

Hey, Jude was and probably always would be their song; it always seemed to cheer the teen up no matter the circumstance. And this time was no different. As soon as the first notes left his throat, her face relaxed, little by little, until she looked much more peaceful, breathing even and deep. He hummed for a little bit longer before finally standing and smoothing the quilt over her body. With a final once-over, he left, shutting the door quietly behind him.

"How is she, Master Wayne?" Alfred asked him, weathered face pinched tight with worry. Bruce shook his head, but pointed at the door.

"She's fast asleep, if you don't mind, Alfred, I'd like to keep her that way. Could you prepare a plate for her and just have it ready to be warmed up, if you don't mind? I want her to rest before she has to wake up and face it all over again."

The older man nodded, wishing the family patriarch a safe night before he was gone, going down the elevator.

And neither knew that Kris was now laying awake in her bed, staring at the now glowing stars, face blank. She wanted to cry, but she couldn't. It was like there was no water left in her body, and she could feel a headache coming on from the dehydration. She sat like that for almost an hour, unable to fall back asleep, when her alarm clock beeped at her. Eight o'clock, the time she normally went to sleep at. It was also the time that she lied down on her side, able to see the window, but keeping her face hidden. She followed the routine, watching through the glass pane carefully, when it finally happened.

The dark figure landed just outside her room on a ledge, pointed ears distinct. Batman sat there for several minutes, watching her carefully. She couldn't tell if he knew she was awake or not, but he never mentioned it to her, so she always continued to fake it. Finally, after the five minutes were up, he left, just like he did every night.

And even though Kris was terrified, staring up at her ceiling, wondering what would become of her the next day and the day after that, she took comfort in that one small thing. That small thing of Bruce, swinging by at the same time every night, to check on her. To make sure she was safe, and warm. She may have screwed up, but maybe this was his way of telling her hadn't given up on her.

Maybe, even after what she did, he did still want to be her father.

So, how do y'all like it? Do you like Kristina's characterization so far? Not going to lie, her character arc is going to be the most severe and probably the hardest I've ever written, so I do lot's of research and write lot's and lot's of drafts before posting. Anyway, like I said, let me know what you think and I hope you are all staying very safe out there! See ya next time!