Hi all! Sorry for the blip in updates, and this one being a bit off time as well, it took me a while to edit this one for some reason. I'm also leaning toward making the chapters longer, so less frequently clogging up your alerts etc. but with more of a chapter to read when it does.

Anyway, I want to thank you all so much for leaving reviews. It's a weird unknown posting updates and stories etc, because you don't really know if people are enjoying it, so it's great to hear from you all. Thank you so much, and please keep them coming so I can see what you are enjoying. It means so much and makes my day so much brighter to see them. Thank you again.

I didn't see Bruce for several days after that; Alfred had insisted Bruce leave the most dangerous tasks to me while he healed, and with simple tasks he had no need to go to the bunker.

I finally got home from the bunker at half past three and set about falling asleep when my phone rang.

'Dr Pendragon, how was the narrows?'

'As expected, Alfred,' I replied, and put my phone down to take my jacket off.

Alfred continued and I listened over the rustling of fabric. 'Master Wayne is already in bed, but he has uncovered information as to Dr Crane's whereabouts.'

The last drug supplier in Gotham. And of course it was Crane. I grabbed my phone and jammed it back against my ear. 'What? Where?'

'His deals will be running in the East district beginning next months.'

'We can finally get him,' I breathed happily.

'Yes, madam. You can.'

I took in a breath. 'Okay, Alfred. Thank you. Get some rest.'

'You too, doctor.'

Feeling a lot better, and certainly a lot calmer I turned the TV on to the news channel and went to make a calming cup of tea. Late night news. It flickered around in the background of the kitchen. I pulled my hair out while the kettle boiled.

'Wayne caused quite a stir last month when he hosted a party in his luxury penthouse.'

I glanced over at the mention of Bruce. Spoken by an over-emphasising reporter in a typical bout of celebrity gossip. Ahhh, Gotham Tonight strikes again. I paid it no real mind, only watched it out of mild amusement.

An aerial-filmed recording of my house was on the screen. I'd gotten used to this by now. By using the huge open areas of my house, Bruce was able to show off a lot more, and keep Wayne Manor in the private eye. Any party or event held and I'd hide upstairs playing video games. That was fair; he ruins my weekend by throwing a party, I don't have to bail him out of said parties. Though often he would hide upstairs for a while, too. He was getting better at MarioKart.

'The party, attended by Rachel Dawes, was said to have been to raise awareness about children being abandoned when their parents are sentenced to jailtime. Sources say it was entirely miss Dawes' idea.'

The kettle beeped at me. I turned around to pull it off the stand.

'The penthouse, bought by Wayne shortly after his birthday last year, is said to be boarded to an associate from Wayne Enterprises, as a thank you for designing Wayne's unique, state-of-the-art helicopter, reportedly one of the billionaire's favourite possessions. Rumour has it that Wayne bought the penthouse simply to throw a New Years' party.'

Oh god that party had nearly made me kill him.

'But what surprised most, is the absence of Harvey Dent, Rachel Dawes' colleague and, all but confirmed, current romantic partner.'

That got my attention. No less than a month after making her promise to Bruce, Gotham Tonight had launched a story about Bruce that went on a tangent about Rachel, reporting that she and Harvey had been seen holding hands around town together.

I assumed Bruce hadn't seen it, but another seven months down the line he undoubtedly would have gotten word. I'd forgotten all about it until right then, staring at my TV with an angry frown. What on Earth was she doing?

'Miss Dawes, long time friend of Bruce Wayne and Assistant DA, reportedly works with Harvey Dent very well-,'

I muted it in mild disgust. Crane was still running around Gotham and this is what the TV gave me.

I was yet to meet Harvey Dent, and the fact that the news insisted on reporting his private life more than his work was beginning to drive me up the wall.

Bruce and I had kept an eye on him, of course, but we worked so much better when we could study someone in person.

I downed my tea like a shot and went to bed, throwing my longest, warmest pyjamas on and sleeping right in the middle of the humungous bed, on my stomach with my arms out, head turned to face away from the door. It was how I landed. I absentmindedly pulled the covers over me, not caring they were twisted and using one arm I couldn't get it completely over me.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Or, more accurately described, Bang! Bang! Bang!

I peeled my eyes open and pushed myself up off the bed with numb arms, twisting to look at my bedroom door.

'Evelyn!'

There weren't many other people it could have been, but I still soured pettily at the voice.

I groaned roughly and relaxed the muscles in my arms, crashing back down onto the pillows in the same position as before.

'Oh, good, you are in there.'

I willed my eyes shut again and resisted the urge to reply with a short and angry "no."

'I'm not going away.' The amusement in there made me angry enough to open my eyes again.

I was staring straight ahead at nothing in particular with masterful irritated deadpan when the door opened.

After peering in cautiously for a moment to see the sleeve of pyjamas, the door swung open and Bruce sauntered in, hands in his pockets, even whistling cheerily to combat and/or worsen my mood.

I didn't turn or roll to face him.

This wasn't fair. When I dragged him out of bed far too early in the morning, all I had to do was arrive at the manor and send Alfred up, who probably wasn't such an insufferable menace about it.

The whistling continued. I clenched my hand over the pillow it was splayed on and whirled round fleetingly to fling it at him, using the momentum of my arms rather than their strength, as they had very little left.

He blocked it with a forearm, not having enough time to catch it, and chuckled. He bent down to pick it up and tossed it back, aiming perfectly.

It landed on my head. I grunted.

Silence.

If I didn't speak, he'd start whistling again. Unleashing a fury of swears in my head that he definitely could detect, I groaned quietly. 'What time do you call this?'

The slight hesitation before the response told me it was indeed far too early, and the fact that I had absolutely no clue as to the time told Bruce that I was incredibly tired.

'Half past seven.'

… …

Three hours and fifteen minutes. I'd been asleep for no more than three hours and fifteen minutes. Lucius had made my hours begin at ten thirty, at the earliest. Very slowly, I lifted myself up and rounded at him, finally bothering to take in his appearance.

He looked too determined to be tired. I did not share that particular sentiment. And he'd been in bed before me yesterday. Dressed in a moderately, by his standards, expensive suit, looking chipper, to my immense incredulousness.

The ever serious and calm Bruce Wayne looked chipper only when he'd seen Rachel or, more worryingly, when he was annoying me or his unfortunate butler, in much the same way a child finds immense pleasure in doing so.

'Did you wipe all the makeup away from your eyes?' he asked curiously.

'Yes,' I replied pleasantly, 'I did.'

The darkness under my eyes wasn't from remnants of the makeup under the cowl. It was from lack of sleep.

Looking very apologetic, Bruce turned on his heel and walked out.

I decided I didn't care what he was doing and laid down again. Or dropped, rather.

Faintly I heard noises through the house and a few minutes later his footsteps reappeared.

The smell of tea lessened my resolve to throw another pillow at him. I still didn't have the energy to move, however.

Bruce cottoned on to this quite quickly as I moved about as much as the average mountain does overnight. 'You have to sit up to drink tea.'

'You'd have better luck if you amused yourself for another three hours and forty-five minutes.' My tone was only mostly accusatory, meaning it was a retort rather than a request.

'Sorry.' He stood still.

Slowly, very slowly, I moved my arms and began to push myself up. When I put all the weight on one arm, it buckled and I plummeted down again.

Upright would have to wait. I lazily rolled over and closed my eyes, rubbing them with one hand for a moment.

Then I put my hands beside me and pushed myself upright leaning onto the headboard and threaded my fingers through my hair to push it away from my face, over to the left side of my head so I could see to my right clearly.

Bruce passed me a mug and I noticed he had biscuits sitting between the gaps in his fingers. I laughed when I saw it and took the biscuits first before taking the mug.

He put his own in both hands and took a sip.

I inhaled a biscuit and drank a large gulp of tea, immediately feeling a lot better. He made tea exactly like Alfred did.

I ate the other biscuits and held my mug in both hands resting on my legs. 'I presume this is about Crane,' I said groggily, looking up at Bruce. He was quite far away; this bed was massive.

He nodded. I yawned. 'Alfred told me.'

'Oh.'

I stopped to glare at him. A long, threatening glare.

'Well there's more information.' He switched his mug to one hand.

I took a gulp of tea and sighed. 'Go on, then.'

'We knew Crane's been selling the hallucinogen for months, but what we now know-,'

'What you now know,' I corrected, taking another sip.

He stopped and sighed at the petty interruption. 'Is that he's selling to an associate of Salvatore Maroni, goes by the name of The Chechen.'

'Of whom we have info,' I finished, nodding, brain waking up. 'The marked bills we gave Gordon are paying off,' I marvelled.

Bruce nodded. 'And since the Chechen is a long-time friend of the Maroni family, we're not far from the mob's entire finance.'

I nodded. 'Russian. Drug lord. Fond of dogs.'

'That's the one,' Bruce confirmed and drank from his mug.

I ran my hand through my hair again. 'So we go for both, and if that fails, we take Crane and cut off the last supplier in Gotham.'

Bruce did indeed look happy.

I gave a smile and drained the last of my tea, stretching the mug as far as I could toward a bedside table.

Bruce reached down and took the mug the last distance.

My shoulders stretched and my eyes became harder as I began to think properly, staring around at the bed.

The Chechen would mean a direct line to the entire mob family. We'd dealt a blow taking Falcone down, that was our start. And Crane was now the last in the outer ring.

Salvatore was more obnoxious than his predecessor, and just as slippery. This was the in that we needed.

They'd push back, of course they would. If we could take Crane down then the last of the League of Shadows' influence in Gotham would be gone, and the money going to the mob would continue to decrease. As to the criminal banks, we'd have to track the final one down to make sure we had all banks needed before raiding, otherwise they'd have enough money to slip away again. And even then, they'd still retaliate, and it was going to get harder.

A very large sigh left me.

It didn't feel like a life's work, but it looked like it could very quickly become one.

The Major Crimes Unit were close to getting the final banks, that was good enough.

We also had to wait the escalation out. And the rest of the friends of the Maroni family would be sifting through. Harvey Dent had put all but one major corrupt businessman away. Whoever that was, was still an unknown.

What kind of a man Harvey Dent was, we still didn't know. If he was a loose canon or swayed by a generous donation, it could very easily all come crashing down on our heads, burying us alive. The fact I was several stories above the ground in my own bed did little to ease the discomfort.

Dent had made quick work of the petty criminals and would have swept the entire police force for corrupt cops if he could. Rachel certainly approved of him, which had to be enough for now.

She might end up buried alive, too.

If Harvey Dent went suddenly soft on the Maroni family, our next hope was a longshot.

We had to take the funding of the mob away before they could try anything. The bills had been a good start, but they wouldn't hold out much longer. They would be found out, and it was only a matter of time before they'd uncover a way around the police tracking their money.

So if tracking money wasn't going to work for long, we'd have no option to come up with an alternative tactic. Bribing banks was impossible and well beyond Gotham Government funding, and half of the mob's men that had roles useful to us were already double agents hiding in various government offices and taskforces.

They stored their money in cash, they were far from stupid. But money still left a trace, even if used and kept in cash. Reported revenue, businesses paying for things they shouldn't possibly be able to afford. That was our most likely key in. Then the issue was getting to the accounts of the businesses in question. Hacking was a long process for figures as secret as that, and there was no way of knowing where to start. We'd have to pinpoint the accounts first, and then draw them closer to… … …

Bruce was watching me as I stared critically, mind whirring and ticking around with fierce precision. He felt bad. I'd woken up tired but in a normal state, and after a few biscuits and a cup of tea he'd dragged me straight into the heavy, tolling parts of the day. I hadn't even gotten out of bed. He also hadn't missed the way my arm had buckled earlier, lacking sufficient energy to take my weight.

'Let's get them to cosy up to Wayne Enterprises. We get a look at the accounts, absolutely ruin their reputation and then terminate any deals on that basis.'

'Hm?' Bruce blinked, cycling back to the topic of Maroni and Crane.

'The mob's finance.'

He looked down. 'Right.'

I watched him, confused.

He looked up, looking upset. Drawing in a breath, he picked up my mug and finished his own tea. Then he looked at me brightly. 'I'm going to raid your kitchen; I left before Alfred woke up this morning.'

My hard mood didn't dissipate, and the happy early-morning state didn't return, but it at least it put me back to normal. He counted that as a victory.

I stretched my arms up high and nodded. 'Okay. Don't make a mess.'

Disappointed that there wasn't a witty remark, Bruce turned and started the walk back to the kitchen.

I rolled over to the edge of the bed, untangled myself from the mess of blankets and bent my legs to pull them over the side.

I stood up, swayed, stumbled and then sank to the floor.

Bruce reappeared.

I clambered up and sat on the bed.

'I shouldn't have woken you so early,' Bruce admitted apologetically, 'get some more sleep; I'll ruin your kitchen.'

At the kitchen remark I sent an automatic glare in his general direction and began to move again, undecided on whether or not to stand or lie down.

'There's no meeting until three in the afternoon today,' Bruce added, 'you've got the time.'

I chose to lie down and toss the covers back over me. Bruce made to keep his promise and headed for my poor kitchen.

It was hard to get back to sleep, mind now moving. Thoughts of Harvey Dent swirled at the front of my brain. I guessed that was what was most worrying to me. It made sense; the final blow was dealt by and landed or missed with Harvey Dent. If that failed, we'd have to start again and lose at most the eight months since the death of Al Ghul, and at the least the last three.

I woke at half past nine and felt a lot better, though my mind had gone further backward to become a sludge.

I changed into comfortable dark blue pants and a jade-green shirt and brushed my hair into a loose high ponytail. I stretched, particularly my shoulders, and after brushing my teeth started through the house, plonking lazily down the stairs into the open area of my house, not bothering to look at anything as I steered myself around the massive fake-fire gas-heater toward the kitchen.

I couldn't hear anything, which meant Bruce was upstairs, gone or sitting quietly somewhere down here.

He certainly wasn't in the kitchen, though there was a bowl of fruit salad sitting right at eye level in the fridge and a chopping board and knife idling in the sink.

I washed them before taking the salad and moving through the house.

Not in the usual spot; the sitting area with comfy chairs that overlooked Gotham. Neither was he by the row of chairs in front of the huge fire-looking gas heater. I glanced at the ceiling thoughtfully, wondering if he'd gone back upstairs at some point.

I went back upstairs, eating as I went and wandered lazily through the rooms until I heard sounds of MarioKart coming from my gaming room.

I laughed and was nearing the room when the doorbell rang.

Disgruntled, I turned around and sauntered to an interface and brought the camera footage from the lift in the lobby up and blinked in surprise.

Ryan was looking up at me from the screen.

I frowned. What on Earth did he want?

I pressed the button to unlock the lift and walked down to meet him.

The doors opened a minute later and he stepped out.

Ryan looked like me, though a lot younger; he still had that timid spirit in him. He had floppy, bouncy hair in a shade one or two lighter than mine, and stood almost exactly at my height, if a little below.

'Ryan,' I said sceptically.

He grinned at me from under his hair, using it to hide sheepishly. 'Hi.'

He gave me a very tight hug, which I returned tighter, I was stronger than him.

When he stepped back, I narrowed my eyes at him suspiciously for a moment before turning and walking to the kitchen. He followed me, grinning, almost skipping through the house as he looked around. This wasn't his first time in the place, but he always admired it, every time he came.

I flicked the kettle on and turned to find him already sitting on a stool at the bench, grinning at me. 'What's up, kiddo?'

'My coffee meeting got cancelled about ten minutes ago and I realised I was close to yours.'

I raised an eyebrow. 'You're lucky I was home,' I said.

'I figured I'd ring the bell anyway.'

I nodded, fair enough.

The kettle finished boiling in the moments that passed and I tipped a spoon of instant coffee into a mug with a wrinkled nose.

'I saw Dad on Monday, he asked if you can fix his printer.'

My face fell. 'Oh god, not again.'

Ryan laughed and I pulled the milk from the fridge, hastening to pour it in and get the mug of coffee to the other side of the kitchen on the far side of the bench as quickly as possible.

'Did you hear about the drug bust last fortnight?' He exaggerated enjoying his coffee, just to annoy me.

'Vaguely,' I replied, remembering the immense amount of sprinting I'd had to do.

'Apparently the MCU went after some high-stakes supplier. And the Batman and Thunder turned up. I'm seeing that symbol a lot now.'

I frowned questioningly.

'The symbol,' he clarified. 'You know the one, the bat with the lightning edges?'

'Ohhhh,' I went, 'that one. I can't really see it from here.' I nodded out of a window. 'That building blocks it.'

'What about from Wayne Enterprises?'

I considered it. Then I growled at him. 'I'm not at work that late!'

He took a sip of coffee. 'Could have fooled me. At least you're above ground now. I was beginning to think you'd go nocturnal down in that basement.'

Being nocturnal sounded very attractive in that moment.

'Well anyway, yes, I can see it from Wayne Enterprises.'

'Got any food?'

I scowled at him, reminded of someone, and bent down to open a cupboard, met with a mess Bruce had made earlier. 'Tell me about this meeting that got cancelled today.'

'Oh, just some new company interested in buying. It's a shame they had to cancel, it looked like a done deal.'

My brow creased and I looked up at Ryan. 'What?'

He saw my expression. 'It's fine, the woman meant to meet me got double-booked.'

I stayed silent before sighing and nodding, returning to the cupboard. 'You really should be more careful about who the business deals with.'

'You sound like the DA,' Ryan laughed.

'Do I, now?' I muttered, spying a box of breakfast crackers. I stood up and tossed them onto the bench.

'Not impressed by him?' Ryan asked, fishing into the box already.

I tutted. 'I'm not sure what to think of him.'

Ryan paused to sigh at me.

'But he seems fine,' I amended.

'He's better than the last one; he's actually getting things done.'

'Yeah,' I said bitterly, aware of how cynical I was starting to sound, 'and how many honeyed words will it take for him to join the mob?'

'Evelyn!' Ryan groaned. 'Not everyone is like that!'

'I know!' I shrilled back at him, 'but some people are! And they, unfortunately, are the ones we have to end up dealing with! Like this buyer of yours, what are they like?'

Ryan couldn't tell me much, which made me all the more dubious. Ryan was a chemist, working in medicine. Since I'd been a major part of decimating the drug market in Gotham, I had to wonder if the mob had started to turn to exploiting the medicinal drug supply more and more.

'You be careful,' I warned him sternly, 'there's no telling when you'll run into someone you don't want to.'

Ryan, knowing perfectly well that he was the cowardly sibling, merely nodded and promised to heed my words.

He looked at me, with a hint of melancholy in his eyes that I didn't fail to notice. 'You're not too bogged down with the bad things in the world, are you?' he asked, nodding, as if just to check. 'That's not a very good way to live.'

I drew in a very long, unhappy breath. Ryan had spent his school years, or most of them anyway, having me to protect him from the bullies and the mean teachers. He'd loved and lost Jordan, I'd protected and lost Jordan. His grass must be a lot greener.

'I've spent my life being a protector,' I said to him plainly, 'it's what I do, knowing the evils of the world.'

Ryan didn't like that response, but he couldn't refute it. He looked around instead. 'At least you have a better house now, I'd go as far to say you have a home.'

'That's true,' I admitted, finishing the fruit salad.

'Though you didn't buy it,' he said bitterly.

My eyes twinkled as I looked at him.

'So content to struggle in an uncomfortable, three room apartment that someone else had to buy you a house. Imagine if you hadn't built that helicopter for Bruce Wayne.'

'Alright, alright,' I said, pulling rank, 'that's enough out of you. I have billionaire friends, and you have your ant farm.'

'Watch what you say about Antland.'

I tutted at my younger brother and threw the packaging of the box of crackers into the bin. Then I remember him saying that he was jealous I was friends with Bruce Wayne a few months back.

'Wow… Bruce Wayne! The legend himself.'

'Legend?!'

'What's he like?'

'An absolute pain.'

I grinned evilly. 'By the way, if you wanted to meet Bruce, I think he's upstairs on the gamecube.'

'What do you mean "you think?"'

'It's a big house,' I shrugged, 'he could be anywhere by now.'

Ryan was growing more and more bewildered. 'It's Wednesday, why is he here?'

'Oh, some big plan for next month I'm supposed to be the brains of,' I groaned, waving a hand. 'Working with both Bruce and Lucius Fox is a headache.'

Ryan went on to ask about the latest science magazine, to which the conversation grew rapidly into excited discussion, until we heard footsteps on the stairs. I glanced over and made to continue talking, but Ryan had sort of… frozen.

I reached over the bench and poked him, giving an expression that told him he was stupid.

Bruce appeared in our line of sight, one hand in his trouser pocket of his smart suit and stopped to scan the area.

I glanced at Ryan, who needed another poke, and slid his empty mug across the bench, holding it in the sink and washing it.

Bruce saw us and walked over, nodding to Ryan when their eyes met.

I looked at my brother and saw no hope. I sighed and put the mug back down. 'Bruce, this is my brother, he knows who you are.'

'Hi,' smiled Bruce, nearing us.

He was in absolutely no way meaning to, but it was certainly true that Bruce Wayne carried an intimidating aura, especially without the playboy persona, with his expensive watches and smart suits and intelligent eyes and figure that stood at just over an exact measure of six feet that you no one ever noticed until they were there in person. I found it hilarious to see Ryan speechless.

'Hi,' Ryan managed to force out as he began to thaw, 'Ryan Pendragon.'

Bruce held out his hand and Ryan shook it. 'Pleasure. I've heard only good things about you.'

'Well that can't be true,' Ryan grumbled, giving me an angry side eye.

I scoffed.

'I heard Evelyn designed your helicopter,' Ryan said, turning back to Bruce.

'Rather more than that, she practically built it,' Bruce smiled, pleasantly.

'Ryan was just telling me about a cancelled business deal,' I said, opening a cupboard to put the mug away.

'Oh, that's too bad,' Bruce replied, looking at Ryan, inviting conversation.

With a tiny glance of a glare at the back of my head, he obliged. 'We finished a new anti-psychotic drug last year, just starting to get pharmaceutical companies interested.'

I rounded on him sharply while Bruce didn't move a muscle away from his persona. 'You didn't say it was anti-psychotic,' I grilled.

Ryan awkwardly glanced at Bruce before answering. 'No? Why?'

'All the drug supplies and suppliers in Gotham are vanishing,' I recited deliberately, 'which means…?'

Ryan finally caught on. 'Oh.'

I sighed, angry at my brother's typical dense behaviour and snatched the box of crackers away, putting them back into the cupboard.

The house rung with vast silence through the huge windows and floor.

'Well,' said Bruce, completely normal, 'surely that means the buyers are going away, too.'

'You're as stupid as each other,' I remarked flatly, sorting my cupboard out.

That made Ryan laugh. 'Something in common with Bruce Wayne, though,' he said, upbeat.

I made a defeated noise. 'Don't you start taking lessons from him,' I said sternly, pointing sharply at Bruce, who was evidently trying not to grin.

'Yessir,' Ryan teased.

I held his gaze to emphasise my instruction before closing the cupboard door.

'Well, if you're working on something, I won't keep you,' he said finally, swivelling off the stool and making to leave.

'And what are you doing for the rest of the day?' I asked, catching him with a single look.

'Uh…' he stayed very still. 'movies and arcade?'

'It's Wednesday!' I scowled.

'But I don't work as hard as you do,' he grinned wickedly, retreating toward the lift in case I threatened to round the kitchen bench.

I caught up with them in a few strides. 'Don't spend the whole day in there, or you'll get a headache,' I sighed as we stopped at the lift.

Ryan smiled at me tenderly. 'I know.' He reached out to give me a long, tight hug, burying his head onto my shoulder.

Then the doors opened and with another handshake and a goodbye to Bruce he vanished back into Gotham.

Bruce noticed me staring at the lift heavily.

'He's a little too childish,' I said in explanation.

It was how he coped, but sooner or later he'd come across another hardship and it would be a disaster.

Bruce knew what I meant and nodded, stretching his hands into his pockets. 'With you and your father around, he'll make it through.'

'I know. Poor kid.' We started back through the house. 'Of course it's the arcade. Arcades have always been our favourite.'

'You'd probably win everything,' Bruce said. 'I know I did.'

'Yeah and Ryan used to whine at me every time he beat the high score and I set a new one.'

We sat back at the bench. I pulled an apple from the fruit bowl and bit into it with a crunch. 'What are we going to do about Harvey Dent?'

Bruce exhaled deeply and tilted his head back a little, arms folded. 'From what I can tell of our monitoring, he's certainly capable.'

'We need a bit more than capable.' Crunch.

'Well Rachel believes in him, and she's not one to misplace her trust.'

Crunch.

Ever since the day at the lake I hadn't teased Bruce about Rachel. Unbeknownst to me, he missed the teasing, if only a little.

Crunch. 'Well if Rachel trusts Harvey Dent then that at least buys us some time before we have to figure him out. Have you seen the media lately?'

Bruce lifted away from batman-specific thoughts. 'Which bit?'

'All the gossip about relationships in the public service.' I was glad I had an opportunity to rant. 'I don't care whether or not the mayor's wife wears Calvin Clein out to golf, I want to know what his policies are on the bridge repair compensation and criminal taxes. And then there's Rachel.'

Bruce pulled a tired face. 'Don't tell me they're still going on about her.'

'Mmhm,' I nodded, 'Rachel Dawes, Assistant DA, childhood friend of Bruce Wayne and holds Harvey Dent's hand around town. Likes the new natural coloured work-wear from Armani. Has an office view of- what about what she does in the office?!'

Bruce was watching me, amused. He hadn't missed the fact I was aware of the rumours about Rachel and Harvey but was more preoccupied with the sudden outburst of frustration.

'You try being reported on every single thing you do every time you step out past five in the evening,' he said.

'I'd rather drink bleach,' I huffed, slumping in defeat.

I looked at Bruce properly, for the first time in several days.

His shoulders carried more weight than they did eight months ago, and his suits hung looser and looser to hide his physique and injuries. I'd spared him many bruises and scrapes, but he still managed to win a few.

'How's the injury?' he asked, nodding toward the side that the bullet had whacked through the armor.

'Nearly gone,' I replied.

Bruce nodded and looked out of the window.

The fuel he had from Rachel, though I don't think he knew it, was waning. It was barely recognisable to me. We'd hit the top, we'd brought Batman and Thunder to where we wanted them to be, but as our power, skills and brains reached soaring heights, I could see Bruce's soul fading.

I wouldn't be entirely surprised if he could see the same in me, though judging by Alfred's general behaviour, it was a lot worse in Bruce.

But there was enough left. That'd have to do for now. We both knew the worst was to come, but when we climbed that mountain, the air would be clean.

I could also see the strength in him, compassion, decency, everything that made him Bruce Wayne. It made me smile a little; there was certainly a unique personality in the person before me. My eyes trailed to his forearm, hidden under layers of expensive loose cloth where he'd managed to get a cut about a week before.

'I want to hit the mob's money as they lose the last supplier,' I said, finally directing my mind elsewhere.

'Okay. So who's the money?'

'Dent's put most launderers either out or away, so mercifully our targets are narrowed. But a few have slipped under his radar. Chillrow, Lau, Gallot and Dame.'

Bruce listened, looking at the bench as he thought.

'Chillrow is notorious for tax evasion, but I don't think he's what we're after. And Dame's last deals with Gotham expire at the end of this month, with no sign she's renewing them. So it's Gallot or Lau.'

'I know those names. 'Gallot is of MGC Group, Lau is LCI Holdings.'

I nodded. 'Lau's company grows suspiciously well annually; they grew fast enough to afford a skyscraper in Hong Kong during the financial crisis, and Gallot was forced by Police pressure to record an average of 327% percent increase in profit for the past twenty years. He went from a tin shed in the narrows to the southbank building in the time after your father's influence began to fade and the Maroni family grew.'

Bruce's eyebrows twitched, impressed, still looking at the bench. 'So we investigate both and draw the one we want toward Wayne Enterprises to confirm by looking at their books.'

'Exactly.'

'LCI Holdings has a lot of business in Gotham, but they rarely make a media appearance.'

My head tilted back. 'Do they now?'

'Trying to keep away from the media in case they uncover something and an investigation is launched.'

I agreed. That sounded ideal for our suspicions to be evidenced.

'As for MGC, Earle brushed with them a couple of times a few years back, when I was still in Gotham.' Bruce looked at me, away from the bench as his thoughts finished. 'There may still be some records down in archives.'

A grin crept across my face, thankful for Bruce's memory. 'Research on Lau, lunch, quick visit to archives, that meeting at three.'

He inclined his head. 'Sounds like a relaxing day, on the whole.'

I grimaced. 'How has our opinion of relaxing come to include going into work?' A thought struck me. 'We're not eating here; you'll make a mess.'

We ended up at a ramen house halfway between my house and Wayne Enterprises. We didn't say anything, too hungry, until I was on a second bowl and Bruce had eaten enough for his stomach to fall silent.

'How did you know so much about Wayne Enterprises' dealings when you were younger?' I asked, gulping down a mouthful of noodles.

'I kept an eye on the company, I never did like Earle. Alfred used to tell me of for working too hard.'

'Nothing's changed, then,' I said, laughing a little.'

'No,' Bruce agreed, merry, 'I don't think that ever will. Especially now that he has reinforcements.'

I wasn't sorry. 'He's the wisest person I know, how could I possibly deny him my help?'

'You know, just because someone is wise, you don't have to immediately abandon all loyalties.' Bruce fished out a strip of pork.

'I do when it's Alfred.'

'If I was in danger and Alfred asked you for help cleaning the dishes, who would you help?'

'Given that he'd never ask for help unless he was on death's door, Alfred,' I replied easily. 'You can get yourself out, anyway.'

He put his chopsticks down a moment to give me a sigh and a look.

I shrugged fluidly and leant back down over my bowl.

The shop doors opened and Bruce glanced over. I took no notice until Bruce leant further back into his chair with on 'uh-oh,' legs stretching underneath well beyond his half of the table, threw an arm down to his side and threw the other elbow out, holding the chopsticks lazily.

I raised my eyes for a second to beam at him evilly as footsteps approached.

'Mister Wayne, do you have a minute?'

'Why, you're not going to tell me I'm double-parked?' he returned.

'Are you busy?'

'No, no, just having lunch before the big meeting at three.'

'We'd like to ask you a couple of questions about Rachel Dawes, and the new DA, Harvey Dent.'

Uh-oh indeed. I couldn't wince in present company, so just kept eating, though I stretched my own legs out until my foot fell against one of Bruce's ankles.

'What's Rachel done, now?'

'You're not aware of Dent's achievement in putting Archie Full behind bars?'

Why ask about Rachel at all if you're just going to call it "Dent's achievement"?

'Well, when did that happen? I've only just woken up.'

'Two days ago, the court passed a hard sentence.'

Bruce licked his lips thoughtfully, something I didn't think I'd ever get to see in person. 'This is the profiteer, correct? Well, anyone who exploits the justice system can expect it to come down on their heads, surely. I think there's no excuse for anyone, no matter how aloof they are, to think they are above the law.' He paused to reconsider. 'Except maybe double-parking fines.'

'Do you think Wayne Enterprises is doing enough to support the police?'

Bruce mellowed for a moment, allowed to show his compassion for the police and so on because the whole city knew of his parents' deaths. 'I don't think there will ever be "enough" done,' he said, 'but I'm certainly proud of what we've achieved so far. Take Dr Pendragon.' He gestured across the table toward me.

I'd hit him with my foot in a show of solidarity and this is what I got.

'Doctor, as Wayne Enterprises' very own frequent Police liaison, did you play a role in the arrest of Archie Full?'

I put my chopsticks down and took a sip of tea. Once before I'd been caught off guard like this, and it was Bruce's doing then as well.

'I'm happy to say the police did the work themselves,' I stated, looking from the camera to the reporter. 'I don't know whether or not Officer Gordon used some of the equipment we made, but that's not our business to know, it's to work with and to provide, not to pat ourselves on the back. Real credit goes, as always, to the MCU. We do the science, and the tech, it's the brave officers who are the ones that can fight for justice.'

It was good being able to boost public opinion of the MCU in the occasional interview.

'And what can you tell us about the still occurring cases of psychotic drug use in Gotham?'

'Well, I wasn't working with the police at the time, but as far as I understand it, the drugs appeared first in the narrows, eight months ago, but I'm told by police that the supplier evaded custody. However, due to the vigilance of the MCU, we are seeing decreasing numbers, and hopefully we will be able to bring the trade to a halt soon.'

'How did you come to develop the cure, and are you able to treat any of the users still in Gotham?'

'Well I was working late one night and got a call from a very close friend of mine to say her sister had been affected by the drug. She was able to get her to me and I managed to discover the cure. We immediately handed it to the authorities.

'As for the users still in Gotham, I know that those who are under the influence of the drug experience horrors, and so anyone that is able to recover will not likely want to take it again. The cure is available at hospitals for any that may have been drugged.'

'Thank you very much for your time, doctor, Mister Wayne.'

They left and I glared at Bruce for a second before glancing back at the door.

'They were the best reporters I've ever met,' I remarked, picking up my chopsticks.

Bruce was looking at me, pitifully.

'What?' I asked through a mouthful of ramen.

'You've ended up in the public eye.' He pulled himself back up again.

'It's not that bad,' I considered, 'after all, all I have to do is baffle them with science and they go ask Gordon. And this only brings me up to three times on camera, no one really knows about me.'

That made Bruce laugh. 'I almost had a heart attack when I saw you on the TV. I thought you'd been arrested or something, with all those police around you.'

'Hahaha.'

We finished eating and I continued the drive to Wayne Enterprises, parked and went in, heading for archives.

No one was there, and we needed a high-level key card to gain access.

Bruce had managed to find the section he needed in record time, so I continued to walk around, glancing at all the boxes and cabinets until my eyes caught Applied Sciences. We'd blanked the department overnight, saying it was because Lucius was now CEO and didn't need to be kept in the basement.

I grinned, reminiscing and pulled a draw open. My first designs for a helicopter, that I ended up using to make Bruce's.

Lucius' hybrid car design sketched in his beautiful blueprint style.

My bracelet that I'd finished a week after meeting Bruce. I looked down at my wrist to see it made.

'Got them.' Bruce appeared beside me, seeing what I was looking at.

An automatic skylight.

A new satellite design I'd done at three in the morning.

Bruce looked on as I skimmed through tens of designs. Until I came across something that made my eyes widen.

The original memory cloth. I threw the file on the ground and sat down with the rest, passing half to Bruce without a word, who also sat down.

Kevlar suit, tiny wide-range radio receiver.

The boots I'd designed at the dawn of Batman.

We threw them all onto the pile.

The grapple gun.

Finally Bruce found the Tumbler and I could breathe a little easier. He had also put one file behind him.

When we finished sifting through the files and put the normal ones back, I stooped back down to sweep up the file Bruce had kept before he could stop me and opened it.

I recognised my drawing style but got stumped on anything else.

It took me a long time of staring until I realised it was a telescope I'd never made, since I'd never have the time to use it. It was stunning, a work of art, and brilliant. It even had a cup holder, but more importantly a tracking system and semi-automatic alignment and measurements.

I blinked at it, thought nothing of it and handed it to Bruce.

I then neatened the pile of files related to Batman and Thunder and put them in my computer case. 'Keep these in the cave. That's the safest place for them.'

Bruce agreed and handed me the files on MGC to add to the case.

I checked the time. 2:45. Time for the meeting.