A/N this story begins just after Bruce's parents have died (in Batman Begins), and then covers episodes during Bruce Wayne's absence from Gotham City, to just after his return. I've paid lip service to the relationship between Bruce and Rachel, but don't intend to let it get in the way of a (hopefully) good story. All characters, except Lila Grey belong to whoever they belong to and aren't mine blah blah blah.

Batman and the Grey Lady

Part One

The rich aroma of a stew filled the kitchen of the mansion. Alfred stirred the pot, took a taste from the wooden spoon and declared:

'Perfect!'

He turned to look at the little girl sitting at the kitchen table. She wasn't listening. Or rather she was, but not to Alfred.

'I think I heard Master Bruce, Uncle Alfred,' said six year old Lila, her large grey eyes imploring the Wayne family butler. Her English accent made Alfred feel a little homesick. 'Can I go and see him now?'

"Master Bruce doesn't want to see anyone at the moment," said Alfred.

"He let Rachel go and see him." Lila's voice held a trace of bitterness. Honestly, she'd come all the way from England and to what? A place where everyone, even Uncle Alfred, was miserable.

"That's because Rachel was leaving and wanted to say goodbye."

"I'll be leaving soon."

"You only got here yesterday, and you'll be staying for another fortnight." Alfred suppressed a smile. "Plenty of time to see Master Bruce. He's not very happy at the moment, Lila, so doesn't want to play."

"He always plays with Rachel."

Lila thought back to that day in the garden, when Bruce had fallen down the well and been frightened by the bats. She'd been visiting, but was hardly noticed by the other two children, despite stumbling along behind them in the garden. Even the adults barely noted her existence. She'd only been five then. She was sure Bruce would want to talk to her now she'd grown up.

"Lila, did your mummy explain to you what had happened to Master Bruce's parents?" Alfred sat down opposite the little girl, his eyes half-amused by her adoration of young Master Bruce, and half-sad for her loneliness.

"Yes. They're in heaven." Lila was bored with that subject, mainly because she didn't really understand it. Dr Wayne had always been very kind to her, and Mrs Wayne used to let Lila try on her bracelets. But at such a young age she could only imagine heaven as being somewhere in the next room. She had no idea of the finality of it all.

"I'll tell you what," said Alfred. "Master Bruce usually has milk and cookies around now. Would you like to take them to him?"

He need hardly have asked. The little girl was more than equal to her task. Alfred placed a glass of milk and three giant cookies onto a tray ('that extra one is for you,' he told Lila).

As Lila left the kitchen, balancing a tray precariously on her little arms, the phone rang. Alfred smiled after her, and went to answer it.

Lila found young Bruce Wayne sitting in his father's study. He sat there a lot lately, staring into the flames on the fire. His father's books were all around him, opened, as if Bruce had been reading them. He hadn't, but Lila wouldn't know that. What he'd been doing was breathing them in, trying to find some trace of his father.

"Master Bruce, I've brought your milk and cookies," said Lila. She stood in front of him.

"Not now, Lila, I'm not hungry."

"But I brought them special… If you don't want them, do you want to play hide and seek?"

"No, I don't want to play. Please leave me alone, Lila. You're always following me around." His voice was tense, but he couldn't explain that it wasn't really Lila he was angry with.

She dropped the milk and cookies, the glass shattering on the solid wood floor, and began to cry.

"Lila!" It was her Uncle Alfred. At first Lila thought he was angry with her for dropping the tray, so she ran away, past his outstretched arm, out of the study and up the stairs.

"Lila, dearest, come back. Uncle Alfred needs to speak to you." The tears in Alfred's eyes made Bruce sit up and take notice.

Bruce found her about an hour later, hiding in the attic. She had found an old fake fur coat of Mrs Wayne's and had wrapped herself up in it. The coat was silver grey, and Lila's large grey eyes, wet with tears.

"Lila, I'm sorry I upset you," said Bruce. "Alfred really does need to speak to you."

"Is he going to smack me?" It was an odd question from a little girl who'd never been struck in her short life, but there had been something in Uncle Alfred's face that frightened her. She knew something bad was going to happen and had a feeling it was going to happen to her.

"No, Lila, no one is going to smack you. The thing is…"

It was Bruce Wayne, who had so recently lost his own parents, who explained to Lila that her mummy and daddy had been killed in the plane on the way to their business meeting. By the time he'd finished, Lila understood all to well that they weren't in the next room and weren't coming back.

Fifteen years later

The dank walls of the Arkham Asylum to close in on Alfred with every visit. God knew what it did to her. He didn't know how long he could continue these visits. As long as it took, Dr Crane, the young intern, had said.

"She's in here," a nurse pointed into a drab cell.

Alfred entered, his stomach clenching at the stench. He had to think beyond that and try only to see her. But that was hard, especially after what she'd done.

"You're our only hope of finding out why,' Dr Crane had told Alfred. "Maybe then we can cure her."

It sounded plausible. Dr Crane was a very sensible young man.

Alfred's eyes scanned the cell. He finally saw her, sitting in the corner shadows. She was wearing a straight-jacket.

"Is that necessary?" asked Alfred, glaring at the nurse.

"She's been biting again." The nurse held up her hand to reveal a swollen thumb, pierced with teeth marks.

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"We're used to it," said the nurse, shrugging.

Alfred walked to the corner and gingerly fell to his knees. She wouldn't bite him. She never had … yet. He saw her grasping something in her hands, and knew it was all that was left of Mrs Wayne's fur coat. Bruce had let Lila keep it for her long journey back to England fifteen years earlier, and she hadn't let it out of her sight since. A year in the psychiatric unit had diminished it somewhat, presumably as other inmates fought her for chunks of it. Now it was only a rag, less than twelve inches in length, and eight inches at its widest part. It was as dirty as the grey overalls and straight-jacket in which she was dressed.

"Lila? Lila, it's Uncle Alfred." He hoped that she would know that anyone, but he couldn't be sure what she understood.

The same grey eyes stared at him, only now they looked out from a beautiful, but blank, young woman's face. There was nothing in them. No recognition, no pleasure to see him. It was hard to reconcile the beauty before him with the atrocity she'd committed. Her hair, which had been a rich auburn was gradually turning silver grey, despite her youth.

"How are you?" Alfred carried on regardless. "I hear you've been scrapping again. You really must try not to," he said, reaching out to stroke her cheek. "They'll let you out a lot sooner if you behave …and if you tell them what they want to know. But never mind that now. Did I tell you that Master Bruce has disappeared? We're all very worried about him, but he's had a rough time … has you have," he remembered to say.

Alfred felt a surge of guilt rush through him. You've been there for him, haven't you? a mocking voice said, and he still didn't need you. But she needed you and what did you do for her? Sent her away. For a moment he wondered if Lila had said it, but he knew it was his own conscience speaking.

Alfred spent an hour there, though it felt much longer. He tried all ways to engage her, but she merely stared at him.

"Lila, why did you do it?" he asked. "All those people? And your husband? Why?"

Nothing.

Finally Alfred stood up.

"Lila, I'm sorry, but I don't think I can come to see you anymore."

No, you're going to abandon her again, the voice said.

As usual, Lila said nothing. Alfred took one last look at her, then left.

Two nurses moved in to take Lila back to her cell.

"I think you've put the jacket too tight," one man said. "The poor kid's got tears in her eyes."

"She deserves 'em," replied his friend, pulling the straps tighter still.

Lila simply stared ahead, feeling nothing, seeing nothing.

End of part one