Chapter One

Tying the last of the string around the brown paper package, the greyed man stared at the box with a sly look dotting his features. His fingers tapped the face of the box, the bold ink staring back at him as if this were a contest. Something lept within his soul; a sense of relief; a sense of...power.

She's receive it within the week. The mysteries of the postal service were unknown to him, but what he knew was that it was unbelievably quick. Within mere days she'd get the package; within days she'd discover her destiny. The destiny which was sparked by Bruce Wayne; the man who'd spoken endlessly about her for these past years.

If she was as good as Bruce claimed her to be; if she was daunting enough; this would work marvelously.

Then he'd have two in Gotham.

And two would be the start of the fire.


I shoved the last of my chemistry textbooks in place along the oak bookshelf next to the other long line of textbooks, a line of persperation making its way down the back of my spine. The bandana holding back my wild array of curls was somewhat damp from my tidying, but that didn't bother me. It'd become drenched once I headed down to the range for some long-overdue shooting practice later today.

Placing my hands on my hips, I looked at my work. My college textbooks lined my library bookshelves, all the different titles stirring memories of hard-work I'd paid in college over the past years. Most of them had come from Sydney; Ranine had been kind enough to have them sent over during my voyage back. A smile fell onto my lips as I remember the eight years spent pouring over those books in Australia's backyard; dust covering me from head to toe as Ranine drilled me on the dimensions of the human mind and the steps of the art of medicine.

I snapped myself back into reality, forcing my attention away from the bookshelf and back towards my apartment. Halfway unpacked boxes lined my kitchen, had overtaken my sofa, and dominated my living room, but that didn't matter. All that I needed now was my arrows, and that would be that. Some practice, and then back to the task at hand.

"No," I grabbed at my ponytail, "unpack. The apartment comes first, and then the range," I reminded myself. I nodded firmly and practically charged the next box, flinging it open and staring at the contents. Clothes. I shrugged my shoulders.

"Alright, into the bedroom," I chirped to myself. I looked over my shoulder where my recent addition to my apartment complex was staring at me with droopy, sad looking eyes. I smiled at him flatly, and made my way into the bedroom, thinking how lonely the poor thing must've been. Abandoned by the ones he depended on.

Alot like someone else I knew.

I dropped the box onto the bed and looked around the filling room. I'd done alot more work in here than in my main living area, seeing as this was the place I'd been pouring over my study texts for Boards the entire month. A stinging pain shot into my heart, replacing the sense of pride I had entered with. Tears poured into my eyes and threatened my cheeks with their presence.

This was the place I'd been in mourning for a month.

Brushing the thought away, I quickly left the room, determined to finish at least one box before lunchtime. I sat myself in the middle of the apartment, began opening another box when my buzzer went off in the kitchen. I groaned and pushed myself up, my Bloodhound letting out a deep howl before bolting towards the direction of the intruding noise. I shook my head and jogged into the kitchen and pressed the button.

"Fedex," he sighed, "Delivery for Miss M. Lancer?"

I chuckled. "That's me," I pressed the enter button next to the buzzer, "Come up. Second on the left!" I released the button and squatted beside my companion, who'd seated himself right in front of the door. "It's okay, Curley. Just a package. Good boy," I nuzzled my nose into his silky hide and rose to my feet, stretching my arms over my head.

Knock, knock. "Fedex!"

"Coming," I called. Curley began to go into hysteria, barking as loud as his lungs would allow him to. I shook my head and unlocked the chain, opening the door and practically having the brown paper package thrust into my chest. I hurried to accept the package from the boy, who turned on his heel and hurried down the hallway. "Thanks," I mumbled.

Kicking the door closed, I furrowed my brow as I read the return address. "Destiny?" I questioned. No return address, no country, state, zip code. I frowned and turned over the box, surprised to find the penman ship to be a beautiful calligraphy; one that someone might find on the Declaration or the Constitution.

"May the fire start within yourself. Dawn the night."

I snorted. "How poetic," I mumbled. Turning it back over, I set it on the counter and tore open the brown paper. Inside was a beautifully carved box, with a flaming arrow nocked in a elegant bow. This stuck a cord within me and my stomach filled with butterflies. A blush ran up my neck and blossomed onto my cheeks. I instantly looked at the intruding lock, keeping me from my 'destiny'.

Quickly I retrieved a bobby-pin and nail file, I knelt in front of my counter and looked up into the small, brass lock. Simple enough, but the size made it complicated. Carefully I inserted the bobby pin and felt around for the latch. Then I stuck the end of the file in and lifted. Turning my wrist, the bobby pin lifted under the latch it it released. It popped open with a click, and I set my items on the counter, then lifted the lid of the box.

"What on earth...?" My question was lost in the blaring ringing of my landline.

Jolting from my zone, I bolted into the living room and grabbed the phone. The ID read unknown, and I hesitated. I'd been plagued with prank calls and nagging salesmen since I'd arrived in Gotham, and I wanted nothing more to do with another. Setting the phone back on the dock, I glanced at the ID again and moaned.

"Fine," I muttered to myself. Grabbing the handset, I pressed talk and pushed it to my ear. "Marianne Lancer," I said hesitantly. I lowered to the floor and curled my legs up under me Indian style. Holding onto my ankle and picking at a familiar scar, I looked to the blankness of the black fabric on my Yoga pants.

"Marty?" the voice sent a shocking sensation down my spine. It rattled in my brain, awakening all the feelings, emotions, and memories I'd buried deep within my conscious. Surprise it me like a load of bricks to the chest, and sent me speechless. I gasped as if something had flown into my throat and stollen my voice, and fell back against the leather sofa behind me. My head collided with the wood concealed beneath the leather and I let out a yelp.

Horror overcame me and my voice turned into a tremble. "B-B-B-Bruce?" I asked, astonished. I could barely hear myself think, much less speak. Impossibility twisted my brain into a pile of shocked mush, and overwhelming amounts of nausea hit my stomach and sent pounding messages to my brain.

Again, the voice spoke into the receiver. "Yes. It's me."

That voice...so familiar...

Without a second thought, I clicked the phone off and hurled it into the couch cushion. I let out a gasp and dug my fingers into the carpet beneath me and forced air down my throat and into my lungs. Heat overcame my body as sweat poured down my back. My eyes were stinging with the salty perspiration running down my face. This was impossible. Absolutely impossible. Some sick, demented, prank pulled by some psycho. My heart pounded in my chest and pushed blood rapidly through my ears, giving me a spiking headache.

I blinked hard, staring at the carpet. Then, sprining to my knees, I forced myself up to my feet in one push. Then, frantically searching the apartment, I spotted my purse sitting half-hazardly on the kitchen counter by the stove. I shook my head and forced thoughts to form words.

"No, it-it can't be," I stuttered, "he's...gone. He's been dead for...months," I whispered to the room around me, "Oh Jesus..." my ranting went into prayer, "Jesus help me." With a leap, I jumped the coffee table and practically scaled the room, reaching for Curley's lead on the table and then my purse as I headed straight for the door.

"Curley!" I barked, whipping open the door and thrusting my hand into my purse, fishing for my keys. "Time to go," I muttered. Opening the purse, I spotted the keys and yanked them out angrily. Jingling them in my fingers, I marched out the door and flipped the lights. "To the car."

Curley bustled from the apartment and stood beside me, tail wagging as hard as it could. I clipped the lead to his collar and we hustled down the hallway, my thoughts rapidly escaping my mouth in fragments.

"He's dead," I began, "Left Gotham. Been gone for eight years," we rounded the corner of the stairs sharply. Descended them ungracefully. "Wrote. Once. Just once," I patted my purse on my shoulder, "Alfred. The gravesight..."

I stopped before I pushed open the door to the complex.

"Alfred."

Bolting out the door, Curley hot on my heels, I headed straight for my Subaru. Whipping open the passenger door, I thrust my hand back into my purse and fished around for my phone, unwilling to enter the vehicle until I had it securely fastened in my hand. Before flipping it open, I read the little letter planted on the screen of my text inbox.

You have one unread text message-Prof. J. Crane

"Later," I mumbled. Punching my friend Rachel Dawes' number, I pushed the phone to my ear and jammed my keys into the ignition, giving a quick glance to my panting companion in the front seat. Biting down onto my lower lip with enough force to break the skin, I threw the stick into Reverse and slammed the clutch and gas, backing up in a blur.

Absentmindedly, I somehow got the car into drive. Rachel's voicemail sang back at me and I hit redial with enough anger to hurl the phone through the window. Pressing the phone back to my ear, I waited for the ringing to stop as I watched traffic and found an oppurtunity to pull out. Curley sat beside me, excitement radiating from his dog body. I slammed the accelerator and pulled out in front of an Explorer. Righting the car, I held the phone to my ear as the ringing suddenly cut out.

"Rachel here-"

"Rach," I barked at her hoarsly, "Meet me at the Manor. In fifteen minutes. Don't ask why."

She sounded socked as she replied. "Marianne..."

"You're not going to believe this."

With that, I end the call and tossed the phone into the cup holder beside me. Gripping the wheel with steel fingers, I glared at the road ahead and exited the freeway. Slowly accelerating, I pushed the needly up passed sixty miles an hour, the city slowly beginning to become replaced with the serene wildlife of Gotham's outer limits. Familiar roads and road marks flashed before my eyes. I'd driven this road countless times in the last few months.

Anger burned within my stomach. I felt as if I'd swallowed ten hot coals, and the fire was spreading through my veins. I could almost bet my blood boiled within my skin, causing my muscles to turn raw with tension and frustration. I pinched my eyes closed and then forced them open.

I drove for fifteen minutes, Curley ever diligent to be silent as I raved on. How on earth could Bruce Wayne be back from the dead? It'd been eight years, I told myself, eight years with only one communication point-which was seven years ago. I'd already graduated GCU, with a degree as a Physcian's Assistant. I'd been to Australia and back-earned countless awards for my archery. Life had went on, somehow, without him. Now it seemed it was crashing down around me.

Signaling, I slowed and turned onto the small road which lead to the Manor. Paved with not only the best of asphalt; it'd been smoothed by thousand's of guests; coming and going from the estate of Thomas Wayne and family. I guessed my family's vehicles had been coming here for generations-my own cars traveling millions of times up this drive.

It was groomed perfectly; Alfred still kept the drive beautiful, as usual. The blossoms trees were trimmed magnificently, the bushes cut to extreme precision. The asphalt was perfectly smooth, no pot holes or bumps along the drive. Tears welled in my eyes as I remembered the bicycle rides Bruce and I would take up and down the drive as children. Then the motorcycle cruises, and the dirt bike jaunts. I swiped at my wet cheeks before kicking the Subaru into fourth gear.

I roared down the rest of th drive, blood boiling again. A tension headache started at the base of my spine and stroked it's fingers around the back of my head like a spider crawling on its prey. I gripped the wheel with both hands, Curley's claws digging into the vinyl of my creamy colored seats.

I whirled the wheel right, my tires turning in the pebbly drive. I spotted pebbles kick up in the air around my car and heard the tinging of them hit the paint. I didn't care. My back end fishtaled, then righted as I straighted the wheel. Rachel's Beamer flashed by in a blob of white. Quickly jerking the wheel, I slammed the brakes and my back end came around.

I stopped, horizontal with the ascending stairway which lead to the front door. I barely missed a huge cement potted plant, and I whipped open my door. Practically shooting from the driver's side, Curley came barreling out with me and I kicked the door open. My Outback hummed quietly, and I bolted up the stairs. Curley roamed the grounds as if they'd outstretched their arms in a welcome to the Bluetick home.

I took them two at a time, heart hammering within my chest. I swore I could feel it beat out of my chest, but pushed the thought away. Blood pushed a course through my ears and rushed my veins, making fire spread over my skin. I could feel the heat run up my neck and settle in my cheeks-my lungs begged for air. My training denied them that right.

Jerking to a hault at the elegent porch, I stared up at the Victorian mansion. I closed my eyes, memories assaulting my mind. For an instant my heart told me to turn back-not to face the rejection and heartbreak awaiting me behind those doors. My head demanded that I go forward, to seize the mystery and earn myself the right to know. I looked down to my sandeled feet and wiggled my toes in anticipation.

Excitement rolled through my body like a wave.

Exhaling, I looked to the panting red colored Bloodhound who plopped down beside me. He looked up and just stared at me, adoration flooding from his eyes. If only all men where like canines; humble, adoring, loyal. If only.

On the count of three I pushed open the heavy doors, shouldering them open to allow my body inside. I looked up, to find Rachel sitting on the stairs of the foyer, looking up at the figure standing before her, back to me. Immediately she looked around him, and her eyes brightened at the sight of me. She practically popped like a piece of popcorn from her place and hurried by him, and as she approached, the sunlight from the windows showed tear-stains on her cheeks. She held out a hand to me to take mine in a squeeze, but I ignored the gesture. My eyes were locked on the figure across the foyer.

His broad shoulders were dressed in a simple, maroon colored t-shirt and black khakis. Ebony colored hair smoothed to perfection, wonderfully poised six foot two inch frame standing comfortably in front of the stair case. My heart pushed blood so quickly to my ears I thought I'd faint. He glanced over his shoulder and then turned around to face me.

I gasped. Rachel stood next to me, a hand on my shoulder. She was saying something in a whisper, but her words were lost by my surprise. I was fixated on the figure approaching me; small smile playing on his lips, piercing brown eyes so perfect as they watched me. My knees felt like jelly beneath me and goose flesh dotted my skin. I felt weak, and slapped my arms to my sides. Rachel removed her hand from my shoulder, and my eyes blurred over with tears.

He stopped about ten feet from me and looked down. I blinked, tears falling onto my cheeks slowly. He then looked up, smiled kindly, and raised his shoulder a few inches in an attempt to look innocent. His chocolate eyes twinkled, and then he squared his shoulders and smoothed his hair with his palm.

"Marianne." He said smoothly.

"Bruce." I shot back curtly, voice filled with icy venom.

He put one foot in front of the other and took a step forward, rubbing the back of his neck. A sob pushed up into my throat, and I pushed it back. My chest tightened, and my heart turned to a mushy organ within me. It even skipped a few beats, or so I thought. He stopped and I realized I was approaching him.

Stopping a few feet from him, I scanned his eyes with my own and a smile pulled at the corner of his lips. I furrowed my brow at this and then frowned. His eyes dulled, and then without warning, I raised my hand and struck him with a sharp slap.

His head turned, and then he placed a finger to his cheek. A small streak of red oozed from his jawline blaringly. My eyes shot to my hand, where my GCU crest on my graduation ring was facing my palm. That is what made him bled; that was his punishment. He deserved every sting of my strike; just like I'd received when I heard of his disappeareance. We were even now, and a sob erupted from my throat.

"I guess I deserved that," he whispered.

Twirling the ring back into place, my hands flew to my mouth and my shoulders began to shake with each sob. I tried to force them back, but they were too strong. My emotions ran through me like a whirlwind, tossing my mind to and fro as if I were on the ocean. His complexion; the red line of my strike, blurred behind saltly tears.

I whipped my arms out and flung myself at him, latching my arms around his neck and reaching on the top of my toes to tightly cling to him. His strong arms enveloped me and he rested his chin on my shoulder, and I buried my nose into his collar bone, inhaling the scent of his spicy cologne. Tears welled from my eyes and dripped onto his shirt, my shoulders racking with sobs. I could barely stand as I tightly held onto him in that moment.

"You came back," I whispered, digging my nails into his muscular back, "after eight years...you came back." I managed. I closed my eyes and forced oxygen into my burning lungs, "I thought I'd lost you..."

He squeezed me tighter and nuzzled his nose into my hair. His lips tickled my ear teasingly as he replied in a breath. "You'll never lose me, Marty. Never."