I've been away for a long time, but as it turns out, I am still alive. This chapter was an experiment that I had posted earlier, but as it was pointed out to me, had gone missing. I have no idea what happened, but here it is again with some modifications. This'll never be a stealth or action-packed collection of moments... I've sussed out that much. Just thought I'd give it a go to see what happens. It's only one chapter. Lots of Arkham games references. I couldn't resist.

Thank you to everyone who has expressed an interest and read this story despite my long absence.

Caught

Chloe had been taken because she had ties to Batman. There was no other reason and Bruce was doing his best to fight the guilt. She would have slapped him for having such thoughts. Instead, he tried to focus his energy on gathering up the information available and getting her back.

That morning, Chloe had failed to arrive for work. At six p.m. a video stream had been sent to the Gazette, a hostage clip with Chloe far back in the background while someone wearing a balaclava stated their terms in the foreground. Another goon with a mask held a knife to Chloe's throat. She looked disheveled, but aside from a torn lip she appeared to be in a relatively good condition. Gordon thought she looked surprisingly collected, her usual stubborn glint ever-present in her eye, even though she must have been scared.

They wanted Batman and the chance to expose Batman's identity. Give them Batman and she would go free with relatively minor injuries sustained during the course of the arrangement.

"You have an hour." That was the time limit given during the stream. Everyone knew what the unspoken 'or' entailed.

A quarter of an hour later Commissioner Gordon was standing next to Batman watching the video. The shutters over the windows of the editor's office were closed for privacy, and it was only the two of them in the room. The city was being engulfed by darkness as night approached, and the office was unlit except for the light emanating from the tv screen. Gordon hit the lights and felt relieved—the rigid posture and calculating stare worn by Batman was making even Gordon feel uncomfortable.

"We don't know who they're working for. Usually they straight up advertise who the guy calling the shots is," said Gordon. Batman stayed quiet and kept his eyes on the screen. "There are no discernible markings on their clothes or on the walls. We just don't know."

There was a grunt, a sound expressing something between annoyance and understanding.

"The tech guys are doing their best with the video, but it's going to take longer than we have," said Gordon.

Batman nodded. "It'll take me close to 15 minutes just to get to the supposed exchange spot."

"Presuming she is being kept near where you're supposed to give yourself over to them."

"They wouldn't risk traveling around with her, not when her face has been broadcast all over the news in the last ten minutes."

Gordon considered Batman's words. They could only hope that was the case. Gordon knew Chloe was a friend, as much as one could be friends with, well, Batman. Maybe a close ally was a more fitting description.

"I hope you're right," Gordon said as Batman turned to leave. "I'll send out all the available units for back-up."

Batman nodded his thanks with a sideways glance and disappeared through the open window. Gordon opened the door to reveal the dozens of people clambering outside the office. He really hoped Batman was right about this.

Bruce could not get the image of Chloe bound to a chair with a knife held against her out of his mind as he sped away from the city center in his Batmobile. There had been dried blood in the corner of her mouth, her lip and cheek reddened on one side. Was it from when she had been taken or because she had spoken her mind? She had not looked disoriented or nauseous, and he hoped what could be seen was the extent of her injuries. He forcefully shifted his thoughts as he parked in an alley at a safe distance from the location where he was supposed to appear in less than half an hour.

He grappled to the top of one of the buildings that formed the alley and moved to the edge to scan the area for any resistance he might encounter. It was a six-stories high and made of red brick, and in relative condition compared to the state of other nearby buildings. He was in a dodgy part of town, not the Narrows bad, but not good either. Many of the buildings were more or less derelict, but housed squatters, mostly homeless people seeking shelter.

There were armed henchmen around the three-storey building he was supposed to get to, and more of them circled the surrounding area. It was a comparatively small housing building, even when accounting for the relative size of the buildings tapering off the farther from the city centre one got. The walls had once been cream in color, but were now worn and mostly a dirty grey.

The kidnappers had prepared for his coming and the possibility that he would try to surprise them. Those guarding the entrance had night vision goggles. Batman was currently a safe distance away east of the building, shielded by the parapet. He would have to find another way in. The derelict but guarded apartment building was to the west, less than a block down the road, old and in parts frail. The manpower was not enough to guard every last inch of it, and definitely not all the time. Farther to the west lay an old wilted garden. The city grew taller the more one went to the east.

"I'm going in, Alfred," he said into the comm and began moving closer to the three-storey.

"Very well, sir. It's not looking promising at all, but I'll keep you updated if something surfaces." There was a click and the line went dead. "Or until something goes unexpectedly wrong," Alfred muttered to himself.

He circled the building and glided to the roof at the back, avoiding the front. He left some small charges along the way for detonation later, should the need arise. The roof was flat with a cornice running along the upper edge of the wall. There had been no natural light whatsoever in the fairly spacious room with Chloe, and if she was still being kept there, it would either have to be a room with heavy curtains drawn or a basement. A bathroom or a closet would have been too small.

Hanging off the roof's edge, he dropped onto the farthest and highest tiny balcony, overlooking the garden. A man patrolling the backside of the lot perked up.

"Did ya hear that?" he asked, speaking low. Another man rounded the corner and they surveyed the immediate area, the other one aiming his gun higher, tracing the upper parts of the wall while shining a light in the same direction. The light passed the balcony, never catching a glimpse of Batman crouched behind the balcony wall. The other man looked beyond the branches of something that might have once been a small topiary, but now had grown out of control into a generic bush.

Batman remained crouched but moved to the door. He would not get way with breaking down the door, so he was tinkering with the lock. The door was flimsy and so was the lock.

"You sure it wasn't just a squirrel getting dinner or something?" asked the other gunman.

"Funny," he said, turning away. "We'll see just how much you'll be laughing when he's punching you in the eye."

The rest of the conversation faded as Batman slipped inside, happy to leave the small space behind. He listened for any sounds, but there was no one too close. He figured he had a long way to go before reaching Chloe.

He made his way out of the apartment he had entered and into the main hallway and down the stairs. There he grouched low and took out a guard as silently as possible by quickly circling an arm behind his neck from behind him and cutting off his air flow. He didn't move the unconscious body. Whatever was down there would have more guards, and they would know he was inside when he reached it regardless of where he left the man. Batman took the guy's radio and continued on.

He was feeling more and more certain that something was in the basement as he listened to the chatter on the radio. Whether it was Chloe or something else, he did not yet know. There would be more henchmen the lower he got. He spied an old elevator with a sign saying it was out of order. The dust that filled every surface told him it had been broken for a very long time.

Batman pried the doors open and looked down. As expected, the carriage was on the basement floor. He let out a silent sigh and turned around. He'd have to find another way down. He needed all the time he could get. By now the men standing guard would definitely be more wary and expecting him, either knocking on the front door or causing trouble elsewhere, which he of course was.

He spied a door that would likely lead down into the basement and on getting closer could hear faint voices from downstairs. The door wasn't locked, which surprised him. He started down the stairs and turned off the radio to avoid being heard. The voices that had been echoing close by became clearer. The stairs made a left turn halfway down, and he peered around the corner. There were two men not far from the door at the end of the stairs, their backs towards Batman for now, having a light conversation presumably to pass the time. From what he had heard through the radio before and the occasional shout to someone else, there were at least two more men further down the corridor that began at the end of the stairs.

He began to approach doorway carefully, but swiftly. If either of them decided to turn or look up, he would have a big problem on his hands. Now even closer, he could hear footsteps going back and forth around the corner. He could go back up and hide, then set off the mild explosive he had dropped near the garden to try to lure most of the henchmen away. It could also make things a lot more complicated if they would not move and merely become more alert with guns cocked.

However, the operation that had been setup seemed more low-key from the inside than it had when he had first arrived. Why were there so few guards around? Maybe it was best to just take out the few men without attracting attention.

He was about to go take out the pair, but stopped and retreated back to his hiding spot around the corner when one of the men pulled out a cell phone and read something. He nudged the man next to him and gestured for them to leave.

One of them raised their voice to notify the others deeper in the basement that they had been called up. Just as they were turning the corner of the stairs, Batman struck. He banged the first guy's head on the wall and ran his elbow to the back of his neck, and the man crumpled on the floor. The second one managed to lift his gun to point it at him, but no shots were fired because the gun was roughly pushed to the side and his arms twisted, forcing him to relinquish his hold of it. In seconds, Batman had him in a chokehold and subsequently unconscious on the floor next to his buddy.

Batman hurried down the stairs, carefully listening for any sounds of approaching guards. Banging the man's head against the wall had made some racket, but apparently not enough to attract anyone from farther away. He snuck along the corridor and made a turn before spying a larger space with lots doors presumably leading to storage rooms, and maybe a janitor's office. There was also a larger pair of double doors that could be seen on the far side of the room. It was guarded by another pair of men.

The distance to them was less than 25 feet. He could probably get to them and neutralize them, but they would have time to fire shots at him. He fished out a smoke pellet from his belt and threw it at their feet. The effect was fast. With the cover of smoke, it was much easier to circle along the side of the room behind them and get the upper hand while the pair tried to get their bearings, helplessly pointing their weapons at nothing.

Batman clunked their heads together and delivered further blows to their persons. Before the smoke had a chance to begin clearing, he entered the storage area through the thick metal doors to find nothing. Chloe was not there. But she had been, the walls were the same and the chair she had been tied to was there as well.

He hit the comm button. "She's not here."

"Then where is she?"

"I don-"

The radio Batman had just turned on buzzed to life with a crackle.

"-wants us there now. It's that reporter lady."

"We'll be there."

"Danny? Cody?"

They must have been waiting for an answer from the men he had taken out.

"Look, stop mucking about. The show's over and the Bat's up to something. Just get your asses over here. We're leaving."

"Did you get that?" Batman asked.

It wasn't long before Alfred's voice sounded in his ear. "Yes. Go."

Batman raced upstairs and caught the sight of a bunch of henchmen boarding a large truck. Another car was next to it, but no one came. Why had they wanted him to come here? What was there to gain from a ruse like this?

After they had left, the sirens began wailing in the distance. The police would gather up the unconscious ones inside.

Batman followed the truck through the streets, gliding from one rooftop to another until they arrived at an old water mill down by the river. He watched them get out of the car from up above, scouring the area from his perch on top of the adjacent building's fire escape, only a few floors above them.

"What's going on here?" one of the men asked.

"She's gone and Rick's got a bloody nose. For such a small woman she sure throw things hard and fast. We should've had more guys watching her."

"How'd she get out?"

"The boss left after Penguin's men came in here harassing us. They're still mad about that deal and trailed us."

'What deal?' thought Batman.

"So, it was just Rick and her?"

"Yeah, but she's gone. Fought Rick and broke the window. We were up front trying to keep Penguin's men out."

Batman frowned. So she wasn't here anymore. Where could she have gone? There were too many buildings to search one by one, and it was a long way to anywhere where she could get a cab. She couldn't be far, running on adrenaline if it hadn't yet worn off. Under different circumstances he would have stayed and collected as much information on the operation they were engaged in, but he had more precious concerns at the moment.

He looked around and located the windows Chloe had broken and wondered where she could have fled to the easiest. There was blood on the glass, not much, but enough to make the knot in his gut twist a little tighter. Lacking better ideas, he began moving along the nearby river that led into the city.

As the minutes grew into half an hour, Bruce's heart was pounding in his chest. He had to find her soon. He knew she could take care of herself, but there were times when one needed help. She had been the one to make him believe that was the case. Everyone needed help.

Alfred was using CCTV to try to track her, but had had limited success so far. He had, however, been able to tell Bruce that he was probably heading in the right direction.

It took over an hour for him to find Chloe. The line between him and Alfred was open and Alfred spoke a few relieved words when Bruce told him she was resting on a low step in a narrow alley landed not four feet from Chloe, startling her. She rested her head on the door behind her when she realised who he was.

"Jesus!" she said in a hard whisper. "I'm glad you're here, though... I have no idea where I am."

He kneeled in front of her. "Are you alright?" he asked, his hands tracing her outline, careful not to hurt her.

"My arm hurts like hell if I try to run, and I think I may have sprained my ankle a while ago, which isn't helping any," she admitted. Her breath came out in sporadic puffs of air, she was still trying to catch her breath from running for safety earlier.

Bruce grimaced at her obvious pain. The left side of her lip was swollen, her left arm cradled against her torso, and there was one larger gash on her arm in addition to all the little scrapes here and there. She looked tired and pale. Sitting on the step she looked very small.

"I think I know what happened."

"You can tell all about it later."

Chloe wanted to protest but her limbs felt like they weighed a ton and the pain was getting to her. She fought off a yawn, knowing it would hurt like hell. Even speaking was painful but with minimal lip movement bearable. Unfortunately, the adrenaline was wearing off after sitting for some time and now knowing she would be alright. Everything was beginning to hurt more and she found herself having trouble keeping her eyes open as tiredness swept through her body.

"I should take you to the hospital," said Bruce.

"'s okay," Chloe said as Bruce scooped her up, but she didn't protest, just grumbled a little because of the pain. "Just need some sleep and pain meds. I'll be fine."

"Like hell I'm leaving you alone."

—

Chloe awoke to the uncomfortable feeling of resting her weight partially on her injured arm. After the earlier events came back to her, she perked up and began mentally inspecting her injuries. The room was dark save for a bedside lamp and a cracked door that let the soft light from the hallway in. She immediately knew she was in Wayne Manor.

Her head felt okay physically, considering. Her lip was sore. She wiggled about a little and discovered so were other parts of her. Her ankle had been bandaged and her arm was in a sling, also bandaged. All the cuts and bruises she could see without a mirror were clean.

Inside her head there was chaos. She had once again been almost killed. That had been the plan. Her death would hit Batman "where it hurts the most", they had said.

She felt panic, too many facts and possibilities were swirling every which way inside her head. Her breathing grew more frantic and she felt tears welling in her eyes. She knew her crime-fighting life would most probably be the death of her one day, but it didn't stop the shock from coming every now and then.

She clutched the bed spread in her hands and pulled it up closer to her chin trying to calm herself, but let go swiftly when the pain from her left arm registered. 'There's no need for this. I'm fine, I got out, Bruce is fine... He is fine, right?'. The sleeves of the huge sweater she was wearing were now hanging over her hands, which she found strangely comforting.

She thought back to when he found her. What happened afterwards? Obviously he brought her here. Did Alfred bandage her up? 'What...?' She didn't know. She let out an anguished grunt, momentarily annoyed.

Chloe noticed a glass of water on the end table and reached for it slowly and carefully. She relished the cool feeling of the glass. The panic was lessening, although her heart was still beating like a child banging on pots and pans.

There was a creak at the door, and she saw Bruce pop his head inside.

"You're awake." He stepped inside and came over to the bed. She wondered how he always appeared at the opportune time. He saw the faint tear marks, but said nothing. It was hard being in a situation that gave no option to hide.

Chloe knew Bruce stated the obvious when he was hesitant. She was about to speak, but nothing more than a croak came out. She took a sip of the water. "Thanks for bringing me here," she said, her voice still raspy.

"Well, I wasn't about to leave you alone, and you didn't want to go to the hospital. Your head seemed okay except for the..." He nodded towards her lip. "So I figured this was the next best thing."

Chloe reached for his hand and pulled at it gently to get him to sit down by her side. His hand was warm to her touch and she welcomed the feeling. He though her hand was still far too cold, but savored holding it nonetheless, knowing she would be alright. Before she could speak, Bruce asked her how she felt. She told him she would be fine in no time and this time he believed her.

"I don't want you to feel guilty, you know that right?" she said, their eyes meeting. "I won't allow it." Her voice was getting stronger.

"But it's not that simple," he said, the corners of his eyes crinkling with the tension on his face.

Chloe fixed him with a look that told him more than words ever could. She would not let him wallow in it.

"You cannot expect me not to feel guilty and angry when one of my dearest and very few friends gets held hostage because of what I do, what I am."

The grip she had on his hand tightened.

"No, but I expect you to get over it," Chloe told him. "Preferably soon. I chose to be here, fighting with you." With that, she let go.

She always had had a mind for moving on and shared responsibility. It felt odd not dwelling on things alone all the time.

He was grateful and scared that she was there. She was too, but also happy that she had found another home in Gotham. No matter how much she pretended she didn't care that much and bickered with Bruce, he'd become a big part of her world. She knew he felt the same.

Chloe scooted over to the right side of the bed. It was process that entailed multiple grunts in rapid succession, but she was adamant. Before Bruce could intervene, she patted the space next to her. He moved to sit aligned with her, leaning against the pillows, tugging more of the bedspread onto Chloe from under him. She muttered her thanks before speaking.

"The Joker knows you expect mindless violence from him, so he thought by masquerading as someone else he could do more damage. A mask over another mask. You wouldn't expect it, not like you would from him. Nor would you give yourself up without a fight." She sighed. The Joker's plan had been for her to die, simple as that. Preferably in front of him, after he had had to work to get to her. "The only reason I got away was because his goons were idiots."

She turned to look at Bruce, his eyes staring aimlessly somewhere in front of him.

"I never saw him, though. Only heard the men talking."

"I'm sorry. I have to say it at least once," Bruce said, now turning his head to face her.

"And now that you have, you can forget." She tilted her head as if to say 'right?'.

Silence filled the room once again.

"I took care of everything, talked to Gordon, your workmates know your fine after Gordon talked to your editor." Chloe nodded. "Lois has been calling nonstop."

Chloe's eyes blew up in size to resemble saucers. She had to call her!

"I had Gordon call her too. I didn't think I'd be the best source."

On hearing his words, Chloe relaxed. "Thank you. I'll call her in the morning," she said. Then she lifted her head up pensively. "What time is it anyway?"

Bruce looked at his watch and tapped its side. The numbers became illuminated. "5:03," he said, just as Chloe grabbed his arm to see for herself.

"Huh. What are you doing up?" Chloe asked, squinting as much as her facial injuries allowed her.

Bruce looked at her knowingly. "Why do you think?"

Chloe nodded and hugged his arm closer to her. It felt nice to have someone worrying about her. Not that she wanted people to feel like they had to worry about her. It had just been so long since someone other than Lois had done so, and now they lived a long way apart. God, she missed Lois.

They sat in silence for a while, comforted by the other's presence and touch. This kind of closeness, though not completely unheard of, was predominantly a recent development. At this point in time, however, neither was ready or willing to ponder too closely what it meant.

"I'd ask you if you're going to be okay, but I know what the answer would be."

Chloe smiled a little, gently bumping the unharmed right side of her head against his shoulder. "Back atcha."

With a squeeze of her hand, Bruce got up. "I'll see you in a few hours."

"Get some rest," she said.

Bruce nodded and slipped out of the room, drawing the door almost closed. He really would get some sleep now that things weren't looking quite as bleak and Chloe had woken up and the knot in his gut was loosening. The deal Joker's men had mentioned was still bothering him, but it would have to wait.

Chloe took the pain pills that had been placed by the glass on the table. She pulled the covers back up to her jaw with her good hand and closed her eyes. She felt a lot better. And she couldn't wait for breakfast. That was a good sign.