Here is Ch. 4, Melanie. Oh, and I have reviewers!

fireinu: Thank you:D

SliverKnight: Thanks for the constructive criticism, I need it from time to time. But first things first: I do agree Dana improved in those 15 or so seconds, but, at the same time, I think Max would maybe just become a teensy bit annoyed if Dana found out and she was put on the backburner. As for the Max-Terry/Dana one-sided triangle, well, I just thought that if Max would fall for anyone, it would probably be Terry, whether or not he'd get with her. What I think about Matt is, over time, he got used to Terry working all the time with Bruce, but when he found out Bruce was his father, and all those feelings of distrust and anger came flooding back. Finally, Mary. I liked Mary the best, truthfully. She was the best because I could really get into her character. But as for how she found out, well, that will be revealed soon, my friend, soon. ;-P

$4$

Chapter 4: The Head-Case

I can still hear her, sometimes. "The only way to live, darling, is the right way. And, as you very well know, the only right way to be is to be rich."

Even now, as I would walk to my shabby, one-room apartment, or as I would leave my backbreaking job, I still hear her voice, her comments, their comments. I hear their stuck-up laughter ringing in my ears. I see the faces that look so much like theirs, passing them in the street. It's crazy, but I don't think I'll ever fully get my family out o my head.

I suppose it's fitting, though. That a screwed-up head-case will take care of and watch out for a bunch of soon-to-be screwed-up head-cases. Well, rather, I should be preventing these kids to be screwed-up head-cases. But really, it never happens. By the time anyone contacts us, it's already too late.

But that's the point of social workers. We don't help out until somebody calls us or the kids are in foster care and we need to visit the adopted parents. I always feel much more useful- and guilty- when see the foster kids as opposed to their supposed family. You see, in my line of work, after the required 2 visits with the parents and the kids, it is only required to see the parents. I don't care much for the foster parents, as few and far between actually want the kids to take care of them. Most of them just want them for the money.

I started working here about a year ago, and I have already prevented many foster kids from staying in homes where the torture they had left behind would only get worse. Of course, this sets a bad example to the other social workers, or at least the ones who have seen so many horrible things they no longer care and are just in it for the paycheck. As whatever God there is as my witness, I will never be like them. Never.

Lately, I've started thinking about, well, him. No, not my brother or father, but… Terry. Jesus, I can't even think his name without wanting to whisper it. I guess that's just part of the fantasy. I'll never permanently stop thinking about him, even when I think it's over.

Like two months ago. I was doing good, going to work, walking my dog, I've even managed to go on a few dates since then. Then my computer at work crashed. I thought nothing of it, and carried it down (it's one of those cheap, portable laptops) to the IT room, where most of our resident hackers and computer geniuses alike hung out. I guess everyone must've gotten a memo to crash their computers, because half the people I worked with were down there, which left me with only one genius. To my surprise, it was a dark-skinned girl. I know this was horribly sexist of me to think, but I had never once thought a girl could be a hacker.

More surprising still, she had bright carnation pink hair. And she seemed to be fancying herself at glowering towards some photo that happened to be on her desk. Nonetheless, I needed my computer fixed, so I asked her politely if she could help me.

I couldn't help but notice that, with the pink hair and the chocolate skin in a sea of blondes and brunettes, most with pasty pale skin, she stuck out like a sore thumb. Yet, in her own way, she was sort of pretty. Not in the gorgeous, drop-dead model look my mother had always strived to achieve, then have to keep up as she grew older and older still, but in a simple, girl-next-door way. The type of girl I'd expect Terry to like.

At that moment, I was in shock. Never once had I thought about Terry until that day. Of course, she was no longer paying attention, but instead tapping intently on my keyboard. Shaking off my amazement and horror, I casually walked around her desk to see what she was doing to my poor, over-used, computer, only to find another shocker.

There, on her desk, was a photo of a beautiful couple and I could only guess her. The couple both were dark haired and pale-skinned, but that was where the similarities ended. She was thin and petite, in a cute blue dress that was a little short, but suited her nonetheless. He was tall, broad-shouldered and handsome, with bright blue eyes. Wait a second-

It was Terry! This girl- the one in the photo as well as the one I stood next to- knew Terry! It was impossible. I had always thought Terry would do something better than stay in Gotham, like live in Metropolis and save lives as a doctor. Or maybe visit Opal City and become a cop. But never had I thought he would possibly stay here, of all places.

Shakily, I pulled a chair up to where she sat and fell into it. She was too busy looking over bunches of code gibberish that I would have found useless to notice me. I decided to waste time staring at that mid-boggling photograph and wondering what the hell just happened. It took me a minute or two, but I finally got a piece of this insane puzzle to properly fit. So, this was what she had been glaring at. But why? I mean, she looks happy there. Like his and that pretty girl's best friend. Proud of their relationship and just happy to see them together. What happened?

My trance was broken as she got up, grumbling something about coffee, stupid computers, and damned heroes. Heroes? Did I walk to the 3rd dimension when I hadn't been paying attention or something? And here I thought I was a head-case.

Yet even as she walked back, clutching the paper cup of coffee, I still couldn't help myself. "So, did you used to date him?"

Her eyes turned to saucers, and she almost tripped over her chair, and nearly spilled the coffee she just walked over to get all over herself. I took the coffee from her and she slunk back in the chair. Deciding to face my fears, I nodded to her photo on the desk. "I saw you glaring at it. Sorry if I was prying," I added, slightly fearful.

She stared at that photo again, and, suddenly, I had a feeling that I wasn't the only one McGinnis hurt over the years.

Eventually, she looked back at me speaking for the first time, "Actually, you would be prying." She smirked, pausing, only to add, "But, I don't mind that much. It's not like you could possibly know either one of them, so I'll tell you. Oh, and by the way, I'm Max."

I smiled back, and introduced myself as Mel, a nickname I had picked up after I met a guy, who only slept with me so he could call The Gotham Enquirer to tell them he slept with the villainess, Ten. Yeah, that wasn't so fun to see, 6:00 at night, in line at the grocery store.

She told me her story, how the two, whom she introduced as Terry and Dana, though she didn't know I had already met the former in person, were boyfriend and girlfriend for going on 17 years, and also just-so-happened to be her best friends.

However, Terry (she kept referring to him as "my best friend" or "Ter") had a very hard job and worked crazy hours, something which Dana hadn't liked much (she referred to her as "his girlfriend" and sometimes just pronouns, like "she" or "her", never calling her by her actual name), so their relationship was often rocky and she was usually put in the middle because of it. Max supposedly knew why Terry worked these hours (surely this had been the reason why he had been late that one night), something I guess Dana hadn't known. I hadn't pressed the issue, though it still bothers me even now. Instead, I chose to listen.

And boy, did I get an earful.

As she talked and poured out all those feelings she had to have been bottling up for at least months, if not years, and those puzzle pieces that hadn't been fitting for me before now were beginning to come together and fit perfectly. Though she seemed reluctant admit it, she was in love (or at least had a major crush on) Terry. I didn't blame her. Terry was smart and resourceful, and, as clearly evident in that photograph on her desk, was still quite the looker. I just… well, I kind of felt bad for the pretty girl, Dana, in the picture. It wasn't her fault all this shit had happened.

I could tell, deep down, Max felt bad for Dana, too. Maybe even horribly guilty. Under that angry, self-serving, façade, Max was just a girl, in love with her one best friend, and feeling immensely guilty about it for her other best friend. It really was unfortunate, the whole thing.

So I made her deal. Since it was a Thursday and we would get off work (well, if you were done with your paperwork and had visited whatever families that needed visiting) in an hour, that she and I would out go out for coffee Friday at 7:00 to talk more in-depth about her problems, and what we would do about them.

And you know what? Now, two or so months later, we're still going out every Friday night, 7:00 sharp, for coffee and to rant whatever problems and/or insecurities we may be faced with.

Huh. I just realized something. I have, for the first time in years,…

A friend.

$4$

My longest one yet! I feel so proud. As a forewarning, this is the beginning of what I shall call the "Part 2" of the fanfiction. From here on, these characters will be shown and/or used to help tie and reinforce the relationships, broken and whole, to the Bat. This includes, Terry, Matt, Mary, and (possibly) Dana. I'm not sure about that last one, because if I choose to write anything about her, I'll need I new character because then she won't mesh with the ones I've already chosen.

Ha. As I was typing this, my little brother came up behind me and pointed something out. These last 4 chapters have all been written in the point of views of people whose names all start with 'M'. Little twerp. ;-P

Next chapter (NOT another 'M'): Chelsea, the known trendsetter. But is she still setting the latest fashions or doing something far more worthwhile?

Have a good day, everyone, and good night!