Until Lambs Become Lions

Chapter Two

Authors Notes: Thank you everyone who has chosen to favorite or follow this story. Now I need your help, I need more ideas, and some reviews to keep me going, if y'all can manage it. This is chapter two, I don't know how I wrote it but I did.

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John Blake had surrounded himself with work in the East Wing of Wayne Manor. He leaned back from the file that he had gotten from the social worker. With a heavy sigh he pinched the bridge of nose with thumb and forefinger before pushing away from the desk. He doubted he could ever thank Bruce enough for the bat cave or for offering him the entire east wing of the manor while the other side remained a home for orphan boys. One of which had been killed. Blake rested his forearm against one of the massive window sills and looked out over the grounds. Seth Finnocetti AKA Seth Quinn, son of Franko Finnocetti an Italian mob boss. He glanced at his watch; it was just after five o'clock in the evening, a long day with very little answers. The reports were there saying Finnocetti had raised his boy in the mob ways until Evy had come along. She took Seth from the man, given him a new name, a new life at the boy's home. And, Blake let out a sigh, trying to ease the tension in his stomach, would have adopted him. It was all there, ink on paper.

She had given him a written statement with the rest of the file, as if predicting what would happen, but he supposed that when you saw a boy that was so far gone you just knew. John turned away from the window and the fading October sun. It was his weekend now; it was time to set aside the detective. Lithe fingers picked up the white business card from the top of the pile of papers. He twirled the card between his fingers. Dr. Evelyn Cater LICSW. It listed her office number and location, but Blake tapped the card against his lips, catching a faint smell of warm woods, but it was doubtful that she would be there on a Friday night. With his mind made up Blake tapped into the police database on his laptop and waited as a list of at least ten Evelyn Carter's popped up. "How the hell is that a common name?" He muttered to himself as his eyes scanned the list. Deceased, deceased, deceased, deceased. "Classic 1940's name, of course they're all dead." With his list narrowed down to two he jotted down the addresses and walked to one of the massive bookshelves that lined the study. Humming a senseless tune to himself he pulled the book The Adventures of Robin Hood forward and stepped back as an entire section of the bookshelves lifted.

Blake ducked through the opening and waited for it to close before making his way to the lift. He still could remember when he first found the cave, when Bruce had left the tracker for him. And then, then Lucius Fox had surprised him further by staying on to assist with a new suit, tailored for him. He figured that the opinionated doctor wasn't going to want a visit from Detective John Blake that night. Then again she probably didn't want one from Batman either, but the latter was safer in his opinion. Blake entered the moist batcave and took a deep breath. It still made him nervous to down the suit and cowl, made him nervous to roam around at night, but Bruce in his infinite wisdom had said the day you aren't afraid to die, is the day you pass the job to someone else. Blake stripped down, admiring his newly formed body. He was far more tone and muscled then he had been as just an officer, and scarred. His eyes lingered on the first scar he acquired while wearing the suit. It had been a knife slash, right on his ribs. He grinned, it had hurt like a son-of-a-bitch, but he'd brought the guy in. And that feeling alone had been worth it.

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Batman landed silently onto the fire escape of a worn down brick building. He paused for a moment, tested the stability of the rusted metal, and sent up a silent prayer. Intrigued he looked into the cloudy window. There was barely any light in the room; wallpaper was peeling off the walls, there was trash piled up and the distinctive smell of marijuana. "Evelyn!" He heard the harsh roar from inside. "Where's my dinner!"

"Give it a fucking second!" Came a raspy smoker's voice. "Hungry Man takes awhile!" The owner of the voice, a robust, bleach blonde woman came into view. Blake made a sound of disgust. She wore tight spandex pants, and a bright red halter top, with his was very sure no bra, and the bottom of her stomach hung out through the bottom.

"That is definitely not the right one." He muttered and swooped down off of the escape. He dug out the slip of paper and headed for Oak St in the tumbler. If there was anything he loved the most in the world at the moment it was indeed the tumbler. It was fast, stealthy and badass. Of course it was a ten minute drive to where the actual Evy Carter lived. "Leave it to me to be off by ten miles." Blake muttered before parking the tumbler.

He worked his way up to the third floor and leapt from fire escape to fire escape. He paused counted the ones that he had done and decided that this window, with the lit pumpkin complete with arching black cat was hers. He moved to another window, of course this was her space. It occurred to him that she had one of the best apartments he'd seen. He frowned, how the hell did a social worker afford that? Then again he was living in Wayne Manor, which he could never afford on a cops salary. The woman who occupied his thoughts walked into view. She turned on a dim light illuminating the bedroom. Batman merely sat and waited, Blake's mouth however went dry. They were one in the same.

Inside the apartment Evy let out a heavy sigh as she began to undress from the day's work. Off came the suit coat to reveal the blue silk blouse beneath. Nimble fingers adorned only by one silver ring with a ruby stripped the blouse off. Batman's eyes narrowed. He doubted he would be able to look at her again without knowing that underneath the polished Social Worker outfit she wore lacey bras. His brown eyes followed her movements as her hands moved to unzipper the skirt. She wasn't skin and bones, he deduced easily. Nor was she the Evelyn from the earlier apartment. He gauged her at 5'10 maybe 6'0 with heels. Ample breasts, at least for him. Curved hips, now revealed after the skirt dropped. Oh God, Batman closed his eyes. I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America and to the republic—Batman peeked out from his lashes and wished he had just gone as Blake the detective, to the front door so he wouldn't be such a pervert. He had to hold back a groan as she undid the garters that held her stockings up, down they went over long legs, legs that he could imagine wrapped around him.

Finally she left the bedroom in a matching bra and panties. That alone said something about her. Batman leaned forward and tried to lift the window. It was locked. Bloody hell. He thought before reaching to his utility belt. In less than thirty seconds he was in her bedroom, with the window shut behind him. He knew that the bedroom was where people showed their true colors, and he was definitely intrigued. There was a neatly made king bed, with plush pillows covered with red silk…he rubbed a gloved thumb over it, yes silk, and a down comforter the color of bronze. A large arm chair sat nestled into a corner beside a wall of bookcases. He took a seat in the arm chair and waited patiently. His eyes shifted around the room; there was a long cherry dresser with a mirror that covered a 180 degree view. Women. He shook his head. There were two nightstands, both with antique lamps, and framed pictures, a record player was caddy corner near the closet. A walk in closet from the look of it, and much to his delight a Snoopy stuffed animal nestled into the pillows.

He heard the shower turn off, and leaned back into the shadows of the chair. Evy entered the room humming a Frank Sinatra tune. She had donned an emerald silk robe that ended at her knees, and was very loosely belted. She pulled the towel that she had wrapped around her head off and let the damp hair fall past her shoulders. She had her back to him, and he straightened as she began to shrug out of the robe. "Do you always undress in front of company?" he asked, making sure his voice was gruff and gravelly. To her credit she didn't scream, but she did jolt and reach for what he was almost sure was a gun.

Evy turned slowly, one hand holding her robe together, the other holding a knife. Batman sat in her chair, in her apartment, in her bedroom. "Do you always roam around at night dressed like a flying rodent?" She shot back.

A very small flicker of amusement lit his eyes as he rose from the chair. "Do you always threaten visitors?" He moved closer to her, towering above her at 6'3. She lifted her chin, eyeing him with solemn gray eyes.

"How do I know you're Batman?" She threw back at him even as she backed away from his advance. Her bottom hit the edge of the dresser and she knew that she would be screwed if it was one of Finocetti's men.

"Is the outfit not enough?" Batman asked darkly.

"You were gone for a year…" Evy replied. She had figured if it had been one of the men out after her that there would have been no time of small talk. "Gotham fell back into its usual routine. Black Gate Prison…criminals keep getting out. "Her eyes sought his, realizing that they were hairsbreadth away from each other. "We lost hope."

"The boy didn't."

"The boy's dead now," Evy turned her head away from him.

"What was he to you?"

"I was supposed to protect him," she whispered, the failure a bitter taste in her mouth. "He's the son of a mob boss. I was supposed to keep him safe….hell I was gonna adopt the kid if the state let me."

Batman remained silent, trying hard to keep his emotions in check. He placed a gloved hand to the side of her face, and turned it so she would look at him. "I can get him."

"Not if I get him first," she met his eyes. They were cold and dead like sharks eyes. "And when I do I won't leave him for Gotham PD…"

"A social worker vigilante?" the Batman attempted a joke.

Her brows arched slightly. "A pissed off woman." She paused. "Is that the only reason you came?"

"It is."

"Then for all I know I could be dreaming this," Evy muttered. "Brought on by grief and exhaustion…"

Batman nodded. "It could." He ran his hand over her damp hair, playing with the ends of it. "You should talk to a detective before you try anything stupid."

"Do you think a girl like me can't handle herself?" The question was ended with a slight pout of a full bottom lip. Sultry, Batman decided, she had a sultry side. She leaned forward and whispered in his ear. "Well, guess what, I know how to fight, and I will kill anyone who fucks with my charges."

Batman smiled a wide smile that she couldn't see. When she pulled back he merely nodded gravely. He knew he shouldn't, but he gave in. His large hands cupped her face and pressed his lips firmly against hers. Evy stood for a moment, eyes wide as saucers, before she relaxed only slightly. His lips were warm, and dry, comforting. He stepped back. "Be careful." And with that he was gone. Evy stood where he left her, her fingers brushed her bottom lip. "It's a dream," she told herself out loud. "A fucking good dream, which means I can make it end how I want it…" She tried to keep her system in check, hormones were not her friend at the moment, and the fact that a single kiss could make her want to throw a vigilante down on her bed was unusual. She shook her head. She needed sleep, that was it. She shed her robe and eyed the tattoo in the middle of her back. Rise, rise again until lambs become lions. Her grandfather had told her that it had been his chant during WWII and she held to it. "I'll avenge him." She whispered. "I will."