Disclaimer: I don't own "Batman Begins"

"Sarah!" shouted Josh. "I am not running one more block until you tell me what's going on!"

It was the next morning around 7. The sun was just rising, and Josh and I were running down the almost deserted sidewalks. Let me break it down to you about what happened so far. With only 3 hours of sleep, I had gotten to the computer in Edgar's office and onto my bank account at Gotham National Bank online. From there, I took out at least 2000 dollars, and put it aside so I could pick it up soon. Then, I got my backpack, and packed in everything I could fit in there: Toothbrush, toothpaste, change of clothes, the book Bruce gave me, and my roller blades. After I put on a pair of jeans, put cover up on my face to hide the bruises, and a black turtleneck sweater with 3/4 sleeves, I rushed to Josh's room, and made him get up. He was asking me repeatedly what was going on, but I would't answer him. All I did was make him pack as much as he could in his backpack. As soon as he zipped up, I took him by the arm roughly, and we both rushed out of Mason Manor...hopefully for good. Yeah. We were running away. I know its dangerous, but its the only solution I could come up with. After making a quick trip to the Bank, Josh and I went down to Gotham Tracks, where we would board a train to a small town called Smallville that was due to leave in 15 minutes.

"Sarah!" Josh shouted again as he shook my hand off his arm. "Where are we going?"

"Smallville," I answered him as I grabbed his arm again. "Now come on!"

"Smallville? Wha--Why are we gong to some hick town when we should be going to school?"

By now, I was really getting annoyed. I took Josh by the collar, and dragged him to a nearby alley. Slamming him against the spray-panted brick wall, he looked at me with shock.

"Beacuse," I said. "Edgar has no right to abuse you and me, and he had no righ to murder my parents!"

My voice echoed off the walls, although no one heard me. Josh kind of looked away from me. He knew. He knew all aong who killed my parents, and didn't have the thought to warn me. But then I remembered the clue he gave me. The anagram. Backing up, I turned away from my cousin, ashamed of myself. I sighed, and put a hand on my head.

"I'm sorry," I apologized.

"It's okay," Josh shrugged.

"...Look, the point is we can't stay in Gotham. If Edgar's going to beat us like the way he did last night, it'll get worse. We could wind up in the hospital...Maybe even dead,"

My cousin understood. We both came out of the alley, and while we kept a low profile as if someone was watcing our every move. When we got to the train station, there wasn't that many people. Just a couple sitting on a bench, drinking a cappucino, and a few ticket booths were open. Shifting my backpack on my shoulder, Josh and I made our way to an open booth.

"Hi," I said, greeting the teller. "I have two tickets to Smallville reserved under Jennifer Mason,"

I had used my mothers name as a "secret identity". No one knew it that well, and wouldn't mistake me as "that kid who's godfather is Bruce Wayne" right away. Josh and I were given our tickets, and I looked at them. Smallville was very far, at least a half a day train ride. And people come in and out of that town everyday, so seats are piled up. I was able to get at least one seat for the train that took off in 8 minutes. The other one didn't come until 10 at night...I gave the morning ticket to Josh.

"Come on," I said to him.

Josh and I ran out to the train yards, dodging business people, and conductors. When we finally got to out destined train, I gave Josh a slip of paper, and an envelope of 500 dollars when we arrived at the gate.

"OK," I said looking around a bit. "Go to this address. My mom's old friend lives on a farm there. Just tell her that you're Jennifer Mason's nephew, and show her this picture,"

I took out a picture of my mom in her teenage years, and gave it to my cousin. He took it, and looked at me weird

"What about you?" he asked.

"I'll be there early tomorrow morning," I explained. "And I'll call at least an hour before I come,"

"...Sarah, I want to say thanks. For everything...You know, I've always wanted to leave Gotham. I just never had the guts to do it,"

I smiled a bit.

"I'm glad I helped," I said softly.

"And I'm sorry for calling you names and stuff like that,"

My smile grew wider as I thought of the one thing I wanted to apologize for.

"I'm sorry," I started. "For dressing up as Batman and scaring you at the auditorium at school,"

Josh's eyes were wide as I smield sheepishly.

"You?" he asked. "That was you?"

I nodded...And to my surprise, Josh smiled.

"Awesome," he said in a "cool" voice. "My cousin wants to be a masked vigilante,"

"...Bye Josh,"

For the first time every, Josh and I gently hugged each other, so careful not to touch our bruises. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I was actually gonna miss him.

"Listen," Josh said. "If Edgar finds you, don't be afraid...I'm sorry I didn't tell you he killed your parents. I got scared,"

I nodded, getting the information, and broke apart the hug as the train blew the whistle. Josh got on, and hesitantly waved goodbye to me. I just stood there on the platform, waving my hand at the departing train. Sighing, I straightened my backpack, and left the train station in a silent manner. It's really scary to run away, but it was the only option. Besides, it's frightening to know that your uncle killed your parents. I would turn him in, but he would find a way to kill me. Running away is the only escape. I walked down the sidewalk in the cold morning air. I didn't know how long I walked until I came by the park. Just standing and staring, I looked at all the kids and their parents. My parents took me to this park all te time when I was small. It brought back a lot of memories. There was an empty swing in a corner. In the bright sunshine, I sat on int, my backpack sitting against the pole. There never was a beautiful day. I couldn't remember a day where the clouds were a celestial white, and the sky was a perfect sky blue. Fall had not yet set its terrible curse on the fresh green grass, and the summer leaves of the trees. The temperature was right. The light was right. And given the circumstances, this day was right. This day was perfect. Perfect for reading. Reaching into my backpack, I took out the book that Bruce gave me. Until now, I had never even looked at the title of the black leather book. In gold letters it was entitled "The Little Princess: By Frances Hodges Burnette". Opening the book, I began to delve into the misty roads of 19th Century London.

(A/N: I do not own this passage from "The Little Princess" By Frances Hodgens Burnette)

Once on a dark winter's day, when the yellow fog hung so thick and heavy in the streets of London that the lamps were lighted and the shop windows blazed with gas as they do at night, an odd-looking little girl sat in a cab with her father and was driven rather slowly through the big thoroughfares. She sat with her feet tucked under her, and leaned against her father, who held her in his arm, as she stared out of the window at the passing people with a queer old-fashioned thoughtfulness in her big eyes.She was such a little girl that one did not expect to see such a look on her small face. It would have been an old look for a child of twelve, and Sara Crewe was only seven. The fact was, however, that she was always dreaming and thinking odd things and could not herself remember any time when she had not been thinking things about grown-up people and the world they belonged to. She felt as if she had lived a long, long time.

As I read page after page, I noticed the similarities between Sara Crewe and me. She lost her parents, a popular girl hated her, a strange man visited her, and someone know knew her parents wanted to take care of her. We even had the same initials, and almost the same name. For the whole day, when I should have been in school instead of running away, I read the book. From chapter to chapter, and cover to cover. When I had finally finished, my neck kind of hurt and it was 3:05 on my watch. In my pocket was the adress of Bruce and Alfred's penthouse they were staying at. Making up my mind, I decided to visit them

I knocked on the door and waited for a bit. When it opened, I expected to see Bruce. But instead, Alfred was there, drying off a plate with a dish towel.

"Alfred!" I exclaimed.

"Miss Sarah," Alfred smiled. "How are you?"

"Good," I lied. "I missed you,"

"Me too. Would you like to come in?"

"Sure," I replied coming in.

The penthouse was as gorgeious as Wayne Manor, and about the size of a regular house. Like the first time I came to live with Bruce and Alfred, I looked around with wide eyes. Alfred closed the door behind me, and put a hand on my shoulder.

"Would you like something to eat?" he asked me.

I was starving. I didn't have that much to eat yesterday, and I skipped lunch while I was reading. I'm surprised my body has been able to function well. But, I shook my head.

"That's okay Alfred," I assured. "You don't have to make me anythng. Besides, you're just doing the dishes,"

"Nonsense," Alfred insisted as we walked into the kitchen. "It would be my pleasure. I'll make you some grilled cheese,"

Grilled cheese sounded mouth watering, so I let Alfred make me a late lunch. I sat at the counter, and waited patiently. I occasionally pulled my sleeves up to cover the bruises I got from Edgar's abusive episode last night. But I was calm, knowing I was in good company.

"So," I started. "Where's Bruce?"

I had not seen Bruce for a while, and I was wondering how he was doing. There were a lot of things I wanted to say to him before I left.

"He had a previous engagement with Miss Dawes," Alfred explained as he passed me the steaming sandwich before returned to a couple of unwashed dishes. "But if you would like to stay for a while, I'm sure he'd appreciate it,"

"That's okay Alfred," I replied. "I won't be staying long. I just thought it'd be nice to visit you guys,"

Alfred hgave me a kind smile as I took a bite of my sandwich. Gosh, it tasted so good. The cheese evaporated in my mouth, and I savored the toasted bread. As I ate, I got to thinking about what happened since my parents died. Then I remembered the day when alfred and I picked up Bruce from the Far East.

"Alfred," I started. "Where did Bruce go?...I mean, why did he leave for 7 years? What happened?"

A silence filled the air as Alfred looked at me with a blank face. I had to swallow a previous bite of grilled cheese down my throat. With a sigh, Alfred dried off his hands, and sat with me by te kitchen counter. Like a grandfather, he held my hand in his and patted it lovingly.

"Miss Sarah," he said softly. "You have to understand that you were very small when Master Wayne left. You also might not remember: You were there when Miss Daws last saw him,"

I furrowed my eyebrows.

"I--I was?" I asked.

"You were about 5 years old the day Master Wayne disappeared...and the last time he saw your mother and father,"

7 years ago...

"Hey Mr. Princeton," 25 year old Jennifer Chante greeted happily.

Bruce and Rachel looked up to find their old friend, Jennifer Chante. Jennifer was a bouncy and fun woman to be around with. Although, she was very serious when she did her detective work with her husband, Luke. Bruce shook his head in a dismissive, but loving way. He had known Jennifer since they were kids and were very close. However, since Bruce got the news that Joe Chill, the man who killed his parents when he was 8, was getting an early parole and had been distant sicne he had arrived back from Princeton University. Bruce walked up to his old friend as she entered the kitchen, putting her bag and trench coat on the counter, and hugged her

"How long are you going to call me that?" he asked.

"Mmm," Jennifer thought mockingly. "For the rest of your natural born life. My gosh, I've missed you. Look at you. You're not the annoying 8 year old I thought you were gonna grow up to be,"

"Trust me," Rachel joined in. "I bet he still is,"

Again, Bruce shook his head and looked at Jennifer

"How's Luke and Sarah?" he asked

"They're fine," Jennifer replied. "Sarah's getting out of pre-school soon, and Luke's the same...Me, well, I've missed this place,"

"So do I," Rachel added

Sadly, Bruce nodded

"Yeah," he replied. "But it's nothing without the people who made it what it was. Now there's only Alfred,"

"And you," Rachel gave a comforting smile.

"I'm not staying Rachel,"

"You're just back for the hearing," Jennifer confirmed.

Bruce nodded as Rachel looked down a bit.

"Bruce," she started. "I don't suppose there's any way to convince you not to come,"

"Someone at this--'proceeding'," Bruce rolled his eyes. "Should stand for my parents,"

"We all loved your parents, Bruce. What Chill did is unforgivable,"

"Then why is your boss letting him go?"

Jennifer started wringing her hands around the folds of her coat a bit. She knew Bruce would never let this go. But Joe Chill's trial was an important one to her and Luke. For the past few months, she and her husband were trying to find a way to bring a huge Crime Boss down to his knees, and into an orange jumpsuit at the Gotham Correctional Facility. She looked at Rachel with a "Talk to him" look, and continued fiddling with her coat.

"In prison," Rachel started slowly. "He shared a cell with Carmine Falcone. He learned things, and he will testify in exchange for early parole,"

"Rachel," Bruce protested softly. "This man killed my parents...I can not let that pass. And I need you and Jennifer to understand that. Please,"

"...OK,"

"Wow," I said softly. "Bruce really wanted revenge on him...Where was I in this?"

"You'll have to ask Miss Dawes when you get the chance," Alfred said as he cleared my dishes.

I looked down a bit. I knew the last time my parents saw Brue was at Joe Chill's trial, but I didn't know that I was there. All these thoughts mingled in my head for a while.

"But you know," Alfred said softly to me as he washed more dishes. "Your mother loved Master Wayne very much. And, even though she didn't say, I could see in her eyes that she regretted not saying some things to him when he left. And when she got the news he was dead, she was devestated...A friendship is a very valuable thing, Miss Sarah. And if you lose it, you lose yourself,"

I tought about this with a rock in my throat. A friendship is a wonderful thing to treasure. Alfred was right. It's very awful to lose a friend, no matter who you are. With a nod, I jumped off the kitchen stool, grabbed my backpack, and started heading out. There was something important I had to do.

"Thanks Alfred," I said softly "...Goodbye,"

Bruce looked out the window in the bid meeting room at Wayne Enterprises. He stood there, thinking. Just thinking. It was nothing special to anyone, but him...He was thinking about the day he disappeared.

Bruce nervously put the safety off his small colt, and hid it in the sleeves of his coat. He had just walked out of the trial of his parents murderer, Joe Chill. He was nervous, but it was a small price to pay in order to get justice for the deaths of his parents. Taking a deep breath, he heard the paparazzi announce that Joe Chill was coming out of the side of the courtroom. With small quiet steps, he walked toward the advancing crowd with a blank face. One wouldn't understand why he wanted to kill someone, but to Bruce Wayne, it all made perfect sense...BANG!...A blonde woman came out of nowehere and shot the Wayne's murderer right in the chest. Everyone panicked. Screams echoed in the hall, and policemen were handcuffing the woman. One of them was a man in a nice blue shirt, with a Gotham City Police Badge tucked on his black belt. He had thick wavy brown hair, which was his best feature apart from his blue eyes. This man was Luke Chante, the husband of Jennifer. Bruce watched him as Rachel came by his side.

"Come on Bruce," she said in a low voice. "We don't need to see this,"

"...I do," Bruce answered, never taking his eyes away from the body.

"Luke!" creamed Jennifer.

Luke looked up from talking to one of the police officers, and ran to his wife, who was running toward them with a red panicked face. Rachel joined them, leaving Bruce alone.

"Jenny," Luke started softly as he took his wife in his arms. "What's wrong?"

"I can't find Sarah," Jennifer wept.

"What?"

"I put her in the D.A's office after I picked her up from pre-school. 5 minutes later, she's gone. I can't find her,"

Jennifer and Lukfe left together outside to look for their daughter, while Rachel took off into the courtoom to see if she had wandered in there. Just right after, Bruce heard a little sniffle amidst the chaos. Breaking out of his trance, he turnde to his right. In a small corner of the hall was a wooden bench, and underneath was a little girl, huddled in a ball. Bruce walked toward it with curiousity. This must be his goddaughter, 5-year-old Sarah Chante. Although the last time he really saw her was when she was just a baby, he still had an obligation to comfort her. He bent down to look at the shaking girl.

"Is it over," the tear filled eyes started at him with a small voice.

"...Yeah," Bruce said softly. "It's over...Come out of there. There's nothing to be afraid of. It's OK,"

Slowly, the little girl crawled out, and Bruce set her on her feet. He gently held his goddaughter by the shoulders, and looked at her sternly.

"What were you doing under there?" he asked.

"I was looking for my mommy. But then I heard a lot of screaming, and I thought there was a monster," Sarah replied in an innocent voice.

Bruce almost cracked a smile at the thought of a shooting being a monster. But that would have been inapporpriate.

"It wasn't a monster," he reassured her. "Someone got hurt. That's all,"

"Did they get hurt real bad?" Sarah asked.

"...Yes,"

"Are they gonna go to heaven if they die?"

Bruce wanted to say "No", but then it would confuse her as to why he would say that someone who died wouldn't go to heaven. He just merely shrugged.

"Sarah!" shouted a worried voice.

Bruce and the 5 year old turned to finda frantic Jennfier followed by Luke and Rachel. Sarah broke free from Bruce's grasp and jumped into her mother's arms. Bruce had never seen Jennifer cry so much. It wasn't a comfortable sight. Before long, Luke broke away from his wife and daighter, and put a hand on Bruce's shoulder.

"Can I talk to you for a sec?" he asked

The young billionaire agreed as he and his friend walked to a nearby corner. Luke looked to his family and turned to Bruce with a reverent look on his face.

"Bruce," he started. "I want to say thank you for not doing anything that you would regret in the near furture. I mean, if Sarah saw anything...If she saw that man die...I don't know how she'd take it,"

Bruce nodded, thinking a bit.

"I think she'd take it all right," he commented.

Pretty soon, Bruce was in the car with Rachel on their way to Luke and Jennifer's apartment. They had to stay behind for paper work, so thy asked Rachel to take home their sleepy child. Sarah napped in the backseat with her denim "Hello Kitty" backpack, leaning against her shoulder. Bruce stared out the window, with that same blank face as before.

"The D.A couldn't understand why Judge Faden insisted on making the hearing public," Rachel explained. "Falcone paid him off to get Chill out in the open,"

"Well," Bruce said dryly. "Maybe I should be thanking him,"

Rachel narrowed her eyes.

"You don't mean that," she stated.

"But what if I do Rachel?" Bruce inquired. "My parents deserve justice,"

"You're not talking about justice. You're talking about revenge,"

"Sometimes they're the same,"

"No, they're never the same, Bruce. Justice is about harmony. Revenge is about you making yourself feel better. Which is why we have an impartial system,"

"Your system is broken,"

That really ticked off Rachel. Immedietly, she took a sharp left turn down to the Underworld of Gotham. As she drove through the dark street, she spoke to Bruce. He just kept staring out the window, looking out at the people in poverty.

"You care about justice?" Rachel asked him. "Look beyond your own pain Bruce. This city is rotting. They talk about the depression as if it's history, and it's not. Things are worse than ever down here. Falcone floods our streets with crime and drugs, preying on the desperate, creating new Joe Chill's everyday...And Falcone may not have killed your parents Bruce. But he's destroying everything they stood for...He's destroying Luke and Jennifer too. All their hard work to bring him down keeps on getting destroyed, and if it continues, they have to live in the Narrows. I know Jennifer won't ask her aprents for help, but her family is practically shunning her, and won't give her support. They don't even care if they're living on the streets...Sarah can't live in the Narrows, Bruce. It'll destroy her childhood, and every bit of it,"

With that, Rachel pulled up in front of a fancy restauant out in the slums.

"You want to thank him for that," she started. "Here you go. We all know where to find him. But as long as he keeps the bad people rich and the good people scared, no one will touch him. Good people like your parents who will stand against injustice: They're gone. What chance does Gotham have when the good people do nothing?"

"...I'm not one of your good people, Rachel," Bruce replied softly.

"What do you mean?"

"All these years I wanted to kill him...Now I can't,"

Slowly, Bruce pulled out his small colt he had hidden in the sleeves of his coat, showing Rachel. She sat there, with pure shock on her face. Not one person spoke or stirred in the car...Then Rache slapped him. Bruce didn't even flinch. He knew what he had coming. Rachel slapped him again, as if the first one wasn' enough. She shook her head...How could he do this?

"Your father would be ashamed of you," she said in a low voice.

Bruce looked at Rachel, this time, with a hurt look. But it was Rachel, and his parents name hehurt first. Without a word, Bruce stepped out of the car, and walked to the pier near the restauraunt on the cold fall night. The dark blue sky sent a glow around him as he pondered into the depths of the days events. Looking out at the sea, he tried to see how far it would take for him in order to get away from Gotham City. Then he looked at the gun in his hand...It was a weapon. A weapon of poison, hatred, and murder. It had used Bruce. It had used him and poisoned his mind, so that it would be bent on revenge. With hatred, he threw the gun to the sea, lost and forever forgotten, never to be seen by human eyes again. Standing tall, he walked back to the restaurant. This Falcone guy had gone far ebough, scaring everyone in Gotham with this tyranny of crime. He was able to get past the guys out front, so, basically, so far so good. The first step he took, the first person he saw in the room, was Falcone, sitting on a booth, reading the evening paper of the Gotham Tribune. Immedietly, Bruce loathed the man on sight. There he was, sitting like he owned everything from the gold cuffs on his sleeves to the gum stuck under yourshoe. But when Bruce walked toard him, he was stopped by a man, who began searching him for a weapon of any kind.

"You're taller than you look in the tabloids, Mr. Wayne," Falcone remarked as Bruce was done being searched. "No gun? I'm insulted,"

Roughly, Bruce was pushed down on the seat across from Falcone

"You could've just sent a Thank You note," Falcone put the paper away.

"I didn't come here to thank you," Bruce spat. "I came here to show you that not everyone is Gotham's afraid of you,"

"Only those who know me, kid. Look around you. You'll see two councilmen, a union official, couple of off-duty cops, and a judge,"

Suddenly, Falcone pulled his gun from inside his coat pocket, and pointed it straight at Bruce. Bruce did nothing but stare at the Crime Boss. To him, the barrel of the gun would only scream one word if you stared into the blackness: Murder.

"Now I wouldn't have a seconds hesitaion to blowing your head off righ here, right now, in front of them. Now that's power you can't buy...That's the power of fear,"

"I'm not afraid of you," Bruce whispered.

"Because you think you've got nothing to lose. But you haven't thought it through...You haven't thought about your lady friend down in the D.A.'s office. You haven't thought about your old butler. You haven't thought about those two detectives and their little girl. BANG!"

Falcone had imitated a gunshot that made Bruce slightly jump. It was true. He hadn't even thought about the ones who loved him. Falcone put away the gun as he continued to talk.

"People from your world have so much to lose. Now you think because your mommy and your daddy got shot, that you know about the ugly side of life, but you don't. You've never tasted desperate. You're uh, you're Bruce Wayne. The Prince of Gotham. You'd have to go a thousand miles to meet someone who didn't know your name. So don't--Don't come down here with your anger, trying to prove something to yourself. This is a world you'll never understand. ANd you always fear what you don't understand...All right,"

Bruce felt someone push his head, to catch him off guard. Before he had a chance to react, one of Falcone's men grabbed him in a headlock, with him struggling. As another one held him between them, a third one punched Bruce twice: One in the gut, and once across the face. Blood trickled from his mouth, as Bruce looked up, pure hate in his green eyes. Falcone nodded in approval.

"Yeah," he said. "You got spirit, kid. I'll give you that. More than your old man, anyway. In the joint, Chill told me, uh, told me about the night he killed your parents. He said your father begged fr mercy...Begged...Like a dog,"

The next thing he knew, Bruce was being thrown out of the restaurant. Rolling on the cold wet road, all he wanted to do was just lie there. He couldn't believe what Falcone said about his father. The only proof he had about what happened that night was the truth, and the haunting memory that plagued him.

"Should've tipped better," said a low voice.

Bruce looked up from wiping the blood off his lip with his scar, to see a homeless man next to a bonfire, trying to get warm for the night. Bruce looked at the sight thoughtfully. A lot of people were in poverty since the depression. His father tried to help it, but it costed him and his wife their lives. And if his father and mother couldn't help Gotham City...then neither can he. Slowly, he paced toward the bonfire, and started to throw stuff in there. First his scarf, then his wallet. He offered the money to the homeless man.

"For what?" he asked.

"Your jacket," Bruce answered.

The homeless man was dumbfounded. The jacket he had was old and ratty, and it was the only thing that kept him warm. But with the money this Prince of Gotham was giving him, he figured he could help out. So the homeless man gave Bruce that jacket. However, when Bruce was about to throw his coat and sweater in the fire, he homeless man stopped him.

"Hey," he took Bruce's coat. "Let me have it. It's a nice coat,"

"Be careful who sees you with that," Bruce warned as he put on the ratty jacket. "They're gonna come looking for me,"

"Who?"

"Everyone,"

"Bruce!"

Bruce slightly jumped, breaking out of his thoughts. He turned to find Rachel, who looked like she had seen a ghost, as she tightly gripped a pile of papers she had with her. He grew concerned.

"Rachel," he said softly. "What's wrong?"

"It's Jennifer," Rachel said in a semi-loud voice. "She was adopted,"

(A/N: Hope you liked it. Review please)