"You were right." Rebecca growled into her phone as she strode home that evening. "He's such a… ugh! I just can't believe it, even now!"

"I did tell you." Rachel remarked. "I tried to warn you not to be disappointed."

It was rare for the sisters to call each other with something not urgent. Their jobs required them to often be on alert for sudden calls regarding work, or they were generally incredibly busy and didn't have time for more than a quick text or two.

But after having kept her feelings bottled up the entire day during her shift, Rebecca had finally needed an outlet. She'd been thinking of her meeting with Bruce repetitively throughout the day; but the more she thought about it, the more she felt as though she were sinking into quicksand, threatening to die from suffocation.

After messaging Rachel to check she wasn't busy, Rebecca had called her sister to vent on her anger, disappointment, and – if she was honest – the heartbreak at losing someone she had loved though she wouldn't admit even to herself to what degree she had loved Bruce. Especially not after that morning.

"It's just, it's so sudden. I can't believe he could have changed this much." Rebecca muttered, but Rachel pointed out quietly, "He's been gone for eight years, Becky. A lot can happen in that time – take us for example."

"But we haven't exactly changed from when we were younger." Rebecca pointed out. "At least, not in personality - not really."

"No, we haven't." Rachel answered softly. "But we've been forced to wake up to the realities of the world and to do what we can with what we've been given. That's a big change itself. We're no longer the kids we were, thinking we can save the world. So is it so hard to believe that, well, maybe Bruce turned the other way?"

Rebecca sighed. Yes, it was hard for her to believe – she' known Bruce for years and a large part of her just didn't believe that her best friend could have become such a stranger.

But all the evidence pointed to the truth that Rebecca realized she had to accept however unwillingly. God knew how many people she'd encountered in her line of work who swore the person they'd married couldn't be capable of murder. They would continue to insist the police were wrong even as Rebecca cuffed their wife or husband; and it was only when all the evidence was released through the trial that they were forced to accept the truth. Sometimes, people changed and that was the bottom line.

It was just a bitter pill to swallow that Bruce of all people had changed for the worse.

"Anyway, I have to go now." Rachel informed her sister as Rebecca remained silent. "I have extra work since Finch is still out on his investigations. I'll be later than you in coming home for once."

"Yeah." Rebecca sighed. "Gordon told me to just go in early as a treat since we caught Falcone."

"You deserve it." Rachel encouraged. "You worked for years trying to corner him."

"And it took 'Batman' only one night." Rebecca reminded with a chuckle, but Rachel shrugged as she answered, "We don't know – he could have been waiting for years for this."

"True." Rebecca mused as she recalled the stories Falcone's men had told the police. "A guy doesn't get good at taking out over a dozen men at once overnight."

"Speaking of taking out men," Rachel added, "you be careful, Becky. I still can't believe Falcone tried to attack me, and I'm worried about you. Especially since we got him now – those of his men still out there can't be too happy."

"I know." Rebecca replied. "Gordon said the same thing. I promise I will be careful."

"Okay." Rachel said, satisfied. "Now I really have to go."

"See you later." Rebecca confirmed before she hung up.

Rebecca sighed as she walked down the dark streets towards the subway to get home, huddling herself against the light rain. It was the perfect icing to her day that she didn't have her car today. Although, considering she'd let Rachel borrow it since her sister was going to be in the office much later than her tonight, Rebecca couldn't quite regret the decision.

However, it didn't mean it made her day any lighter than it had been.

It had been a long day, despite her getting out early from work. After her morning with Bruce, she'd arrived at work with puffy red eyes and a headache; which had only worsened as Loeb barked orders to find the masked vigilante.

But every lead – which wasn't much – on the guy was a dead end. It was like the guy never existed – and with no prints, no details on his appearance besides that he looked like a bat, and not even a description of the guy's voice (apparently, he either had a serious case of vocal damage or he had disguised his voice), there wasn't much the police could do.

So instead of chasing shadows – literally – Rebecca had used every opportunity to try to alleviate her headache by searching up on Dr. Jonathon Crane.

Something about the Falcone case wasn't quite right, she was sure of it. The drugs he had been dealing the night they finally caught him and uncovered his bust didn't match up completely with the recorded orders they had found on his hard drive. There had been too many documented orders compared to the amount Falcone had been selling himself. It wasn't a major detail – but it bothered Rebecca.

There was something there, she was sure of it. Her gut feeling was rarely wrong in these cases – one of the reasons she was one of the best detectives in the GCPD – and she was determined she'd figure it out. Her diggings had showed an interesting link to Crane – and remembering her conversation with Rachel, she started investigating the elusive Arkham doctor.

Arkham Asylum's chief psychiatrist Jonathon Crane was a genius in his field, having earned his doctorate in psychology at the age of 21. His thesis had been on a surprising subject – fear reflex – but what Rebecca found most odd was the reports on his patients in Arkham. Specifically, the ones related to cases that Falcone was implied to have been behind. All of them had been declared legally insane by Crane and moved to Arkham instead of being locked up in prison.

It had taken quite a bit of digging, but Rebecca found that these patients had been reported to display unusual levels of complete insanity after admittance into Arkham. Strange to be sure, especially when they had neither shown any prior symptoms nor had insanity in their family history. And particularly so when they were all recorded to spend days screaming in fear.

Fear – exactly what Crane specialized in.

It could be a coincidence… but Rebecca somehow doubted it.

After finally finding enough links to warrant at least an inspection, she'd submitted an application for clearance to investigate Arkham and was expecting to hear back within the next few days regarding other information on Crane and his patients.

Rebecca had also received a bit of surprising, if somewhat unrelated, news as well.

Gordon had confided in her (and her only) that he'd been in contact with the man who was becoming famous as 'the Batman', and twice at that. He was always masked, hidden mostly in the shadows, and his voice unrecognizable; but he'd still appeared before Gordon. He was also the strange man they'd chased on the station roof, and Gordon admitted that he thought Batman was probably trying to do some good rather than being a dangerous threat.

However, it wasn't confirmed, and Gordon stressed to her that they should really wait to see which side Batman really turned out to be on. And while Rebecca agreed, she couldn't help but fervently hope that Batman at least turned out to be good. After the shock she'd received from Bruce, she really needed the affirmation that there really was good in this world.

It was as this thought passed through her head that Rebecca suddenly felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

Feeling the prickling sense of danger, Rebecca slowed slightly as she looked around cautiously. There was nothing too special about the road as she walked towards the station… but she spotted the two men casually loitering near the end of the road before the subway entrance.

And looking back, she could see two men also 'casually' leaning against a wall not far behind her. Finally, looking to the side, she could see another pair of men strolling along on the other side of the street. They were surrounding her and cornering her towards the alley on her left.

Rebecca knew she had three options; one, take the men on head first. This was the most desperate option, because while she was trained in combat, the odds of taking on six fully-grown and heavily muscled men and winning were not in her favor.

Option two, she could make a run now for the other corner of the road and keep running while she rang for help on her cell. This option was slightly more appealing as in normal circumstances it at least gave her better chances at survival. However, if these men were sent by Falcone or Crane – which she suspected to be the case – her chances weren't that much higher than option number one. These men wouldn't care as much about being caught as they would about ensuring she was killed - and she wouldn't put it passed them to gun her down as she ran.

Option three, she could bolt into the alley before she was cornered, and find a way to climb out. This was a dangerous gamble, because if these men had more friends waiting in the alley she would essentially be walking right into their trap with open arms. Not to mention, they might easily catch up to her before she could get away. However, it could also be her best shot at escaping.

Rebecca knew she needed to decide now – the men were starting to realize she'd caught onto them – so she made her split-second choice.

"Hey!" One of the men exclaimed as Rebecca abruptly turned and bolted into the alley, surprising the six men who'd been watching her.

Thankfully, the alley was empty, and Rebecca wasted no time in jumping onto the nearest trashcan and swinging herself up onto the lowest fire escape railing she could find.

Unfortunately, her luck ran out: the rain that had started from the night before and hadn't really let up the whole day had made the bars slippery, and she fell back down onto the trashcans.

"Shit." Rebecca muttered as she saw the men run into the alley.

"Well, well, look what we've got here." One of them spoke, smirking while his friends pulled guns from their waistbands. "A lost little detective."

Rebecca's eyes narrowed, though she kept backing slowly away from the men. But there wasn't anywhere she could go, and now her only escape was blocked off by six burly men. Which meant her only choice was to fight and hope she at least took down some men with her.

Her own gun was hidden under her jacket, and Rebecca knew if she moved fast enough she could at least get a shot into two, maybe three of the men. Of course, then she'd probably die when the remaining three shot her at point-blank range.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?" The leader of the pack sneered. "You afraid of a few guys like us?"

Rebecca glared, and the man chuckled as he said, "Come on, we won't hurt you; we just want to play a little bit."

"You wish." Rebecca spat back. "You're nothing but cheap muscle."

The look in the man's eyes changed instantly, and the other guys all growled menacingly at the insult while the lead man said in a low voice, "You'll regret that, b*tch."

Suddenly, a dark, cloaked figure dropped down right in front of Rebecca, coming between her and the thugs and making her start in surprise.

"That's no way to call a lady." The stranger said in a low tone.

And before Rebecca or the thugs could even fully register the deep, raspy voice, the mysterious figure had already moved into action, leaping at Rebecca's would-be assailants.

The lead thug yelped as Batman punched him in the stomach before whacking him on the head and taking him out. The others quickly shook off their shock, starting to aim at the masked vigilante, but Batman was too quick. He flew around them, taking each of them down quickly and efficiently while avoiding their bullets as they opened fire.

It also seemed that his armour could deflect the few bullets that came near his person though Rebecca noticed the heavy, stiff armour also seemed to slow the man down slightly.

"Die, you son of a bi-!" One of the thugs yelled, frustrated and frightened, and he raised a knife and started towards Batman, all while nursing a broken nose.

Batman whirled around, a beat late as he had been busy taking out another thud, when another gunshot fired.

The last of the thugs dropped instantly, his knife clattering to the ground while he howled in pain and clutched his leg where it had been shot.

Batman quickly punched the man, knocking him out, before he turned to Rebecca who held a smoking gun firmly in both hands. She was shaking slightly as she looked up at him, her blue eyes filled with a hint of fear as she looked at his mask, particularly the bat-like ears at the top.

"You don't have to be afraid of me - I won't hurt you." Batman informed her in that strange, deep voice, and Rebecca blinked.

"I know that." She answered, the fear leaving her eyes as she looked at the men lying all around Batman. "You did just save me."

"And you shouldn't have shot him." Batman added, and Rebecca raised a brow as she looked back at him.

"Excuse me?" She asked, and Batman repeated, "You shouldn't have pulled out a gun."

"A simple thank you could suffice." Rebecca informed the masked vigilante, feeling slightly miffed, but Batman warned, "I don't agree with guns – you could have killed someone."

"But I didn't." Rebecca retorted, frowning at the odd man towering before her. "I'm a police detective with five years of field experience – I know how to aim and I made sure I wasn't going to hit anywhere fatal. It's against police principal anyway."

"I don't need you to help me by shooting people." Batman insisted, and Rebecca snapped as she glared up into the masked man's dark eyes, "Fine, I'm sorry I couldn't just sit back and watch you get injured because you were helping me."

Batman stared at her silently before he turned, making to leave.

"Wait." Rebecca called, and Batman paused, glancing back at her over his caped shoulder.

"Thank you." She said, and though it was a little grudgingly she was entirely sincere in her gratitude. "For saving me."

"You don't have to thank me." Batman answered curtly, and Rebecca frowned as she answered, "Of course I do – you saved my life."

"You don't ever have to thank me." Batman replied firmly, and Rebecca's frown deepened.

As the man made to leave again, she asked, "Why don't I have to thank you? You saved my life, and you've saved my sister's life before."

"I don't do it to be thanked." Batman replied. "Be careful going home."

He paused, and added, "And thank you for helping me."

With that, he suddenly pulled himself up on a line towards the rooftops, where he disappeared into the shadows once more.

"I didn't do it to be thanked either." Rebecca muttered into the darkness.

She quickly headed out of the alley, shakily making her way onto the train to get back home.

Unbeknownst to her, Bruce watched her like a hawk as he followed her home, ensuring she got into her apartment safely before he let out a sigh of relief. That had been close. But saving Rebecca had made it all too clear that Falcone was anything if done – at the very least, there was someone else in the game.

And that had to be the person that the other half of the drug shipments had been going to be delivered to.

Bruce headed back towards the Narrows, now that Rebecca was safely home. He had more searching to do to find out exactly where the drugs had been going; who had been ordering them; and why.

Rebecca took a nice long shower to calm her nerves after her near-death experience.

She had been, admittedly, rattled by what had happened but paired with Batman's rescue, it only made her all the more convinced that she was doing the right thing and on the right path. It was just too coincidental that she had been attacked just hours after she submitted a request for clearance to investigate Crane.

It was the unpleasant truth that the police station was filled with at least as many corrupt officers as it had actual criminals in the holding cells; possibly more. And Rebecca suspected someone had probably tipped Crane off that she was closing in on him.

Well, if they thought threatening her was going to work, they were wrong. Tomorrow, she would look into things further and try to see if she couldn't get that clearance sooner.

For now, her thoughts turned once more to the curious man known as Batman.

He was certainly odd, that much was clear. His distaste for guns and killing made him an interesting character in itself, but there was something else that was bothering Rebecca. Something she couldn't quite place her finger on.

She went through it – again – in her head.

The tall figure, standing maybe four or five inches above her height of five foot eight. She'd guess the man was still somewhat young, probably younger than forty from the lack of wrinkles from what little could be seen of his face. And if she really had to peg him, she'd even go so far as to say he probably wasn't that much over thirty, if that.

His voice, naturally, was indistinguishable, as was the rest of his face. But Rebecca wondered why he still felt vaguely familiar. She thought back to the only really clear part of his features – his eyes. They were a deep, dark brown – which narrowed down the possibilities slightly – and she was certain they were what made him feel familiar.

Could Batman be someone she knew? If so, who?

Rebecca quickly ran through all the people she knew with dark brown eyes. The first person she thought of, naturally, was Gordon – but she quickly crossed him off. As much as she respected her boss's desire for finally getting justice, there were too many things that didn't add up for that possibility to be right.

The next person she thought of was Bruce – but, again, she cut that thought off. Bruce had proven he was a changed man for the worse; there was no way he was wearing a mask and cape to fight crime at night.

Not wanting to even think of him at the moment, Rebecca continued to wrack her brain. Rachel's boss, Finch? No, he hadn't been pushed into action until the Batman brought up evidence while the Batman had clearly shown initiative. She supposed it could all be an act…

An act. Rachel tilted her head physically as she followed her deductions down a different thought path.

Batman didn't want to be found – why else would he go to such excruciating lengths to hide his identity? The reason for hiding could be anything: maybe he was protecting his loved ones, maybe he just didn't want to always have to watch his back when he wasn't fighting crime.

Whatever the reason, he'd made it clear he held his private identity very close to the chest. So, then the man behind the mask would be someone who didn't want to be suspected. Someone who would probably go to great lengths to… avoid… suspicion…

Rebecca stopped, staring blankly ahead as something clicked in her head and she abruptly realized what had been niggling her about her meeting with Batman.

"You don't have to be afraid of me – I won't hurt you." He had said.

You don't have to be afraid of ME.

The inflection had been slight, but it had been there, just noticeable enough that her subconscious picked up on it. He'd spoken as though he knew she would be afraid of someone like him – or rather, something. He'd said the words after noticing her fear of his bat mask, she was sure of it.

That alone wasn't much – unless paired with her other and much larger revelation, a realization that had struck her like a thunderbolt though it hadn't the first time she'd thought of it.

An act.

What better way to avoid suspicion of being a vigilante out to protect Gotham, than to act like one was completely selfish and self-absorbed? And if one was guaranteed to be in the public eye anyway, what better way to hide than to flaunt a false persona in the limelight?

'No… it can't be possible.' Rebecca thought, her head reeling.

But she knew, deep down, that she was right.

There were too many coincidences - Batman's first appearance to Gordon just after Bruce's sudden return from the dead. And hadn't she said herself that Batman would have to be someone with extensive training in combat?

Bruce had trained in gymnastics on an Olympic level – one of his sports whims that had actually stuck for more than a week – since he was sixteen. Rebecca had even joined him on more than one occasion. And then Bruce had disappeared off the face of the earth for eight years – what if he had been training in all that time? His built body certainly suggested so.

And there was more: Batman's suit, clearly made of highly advanced armour that could not be cheap but wouldn't be a problem for a billionaire. Batman knowing her fear of bats – because she was certain he'd known before he noticed her reaction to his mask – and Bruce having shared her phobia of the creatures.

And really, what were the odds? Why would someone dress as a bat of all things? Unless it was to drive in fear through fear itself. After all, what could be a better way to overcome one's fear than to use it to spread fear in one's enemies?

And finally, Bruce's rather sudden change in personality that hadn't quite matched what his eyes had been saying when Rebecca confronted him that very morning.

His dark brown eyes.

Rebecca sank into the kitchen chair, suddenly feeling weak in the knees. Was it really possible; could Bruce actually be Batman?

A part of her insisted it was absurd – but the larger part of her was in shock because she just knew she was right. Just like she'd known as a child that Bruce liked to hide in higher up places than low on the ground because he could see better from a higher vantage point.

Bruce was Batman.

'No, let's not be hasty.' Rebecca breathed. It could be she was just hoping the Bruce that had hurt her just this morning had been an act to protect her from… something. What, she wasn't certain - she'd have to ask him.

Just like she would ask him straight up if he was Batman. Rebecca was certain she knew Bruce well enough that if she went with a level head and asked him right out, and caught him by surprise, she would be able to read the truth out of him even if he later tried to lie.

'Tomorrow I'll go see Bruce.' Rebecca thought as she went to get a good night's sleep before she went to confront her oldest friend. 'And if he was lying to me this morning for some stupid noble cause like 'not wanting me to get hurt', I'm going to punch him. Batman or not.'