A/N: Alrighty… in this chapter, we make a discovery. Remember those syringes in the first chapter? (Bet you don't). They come back! Now, tell me if this makes her Mary Sue-ish. Really. Tell me.

Disclaimer: He visited me in a dream last night. Does that count?

Chapter 5: Cold Blows the Wind

December 2

5:45 pm. The sun was sinking low over Gotham, and Bruce stood in front of his alter-ego. The suit was looking a little roughed-up. It had been stabbed, shot at, and even, on one memorable occasion, hit by a car. He still had bruises from that one. He knew that he needed to spray on another coat of latex, but that could wait for another night. The utility belt and all of its utilities were laid flat on a table next to him, and the tumbler sat silent and waiting behind him. He opened the glass cabinet and began to change, beginning with the Nomex suit and ending with the grappling gun in the belt. In ten minutes, Bruce had disappeared. His alter-ego had nothing to look at to remind him of who he was. But that was the last thing the Batman needed; a reminder.

The tumbler, no longer silent, roared out of the cave. Its driver was thinking over the latest information that had arisen about the Joker. The madman had struck again, several times since November. The new district attorney, a man named Harvey Dent, had started a campaign against him, but there was very little evidence at the crime scenes. The Batman had been preoccupied with a string of brutal attacks that had happened over a week. He'd caught the guy doing it, and put his head through a wall. The police had found him there, struggling to free himself while the woman he'd been attacking laughed and laughed…

But there were bigger fish to fry. To find the killer who'd begun to leave smiles on his victim's faces would help put a lot of minds at rest. Including his.

6:07 pm. Leah twirled her pocketknife absently as she walked down the road. A few people gave her odd looks, but it was far from unusual to be openly armed in Gotham. She didn't notice anyways. She grinned as she saw the hospital; all decked out in Christmas and Hanukah decorations. The latter holiday would be drawing to a close in a few days, but it was all in the spirit of the season. A chill wind cut through her clothes, and she hugged her jacket tighter. It was large and olive-drab, and had belonged to an uncle who'd been in the army. It was one of her favorite things, and she loved when it got cold enough to put it on.

She dropped the knife into her pocket before walking into the hospital, knowing what kind of looks she'd get for carrying it there. Once inside, she nodded her head to the woman behind the front desk and went to her brother's floor. She'd forgiven him his comment from earlier, when she told him about the man she'd knocked out in the alleyway. She knew that there was no chance she'd meet Bruce Wayne again, and she realized that she didn't really care.

When she reached Alex's room, she saw him speaking animatedly to a blonde orderly, who had probably spent less time in the hospital than he had. Leah watched until the young woman walked out. She looked slightly sheepish, and was blushing a deep red. Leah was laughing as she entered her brother's room. Alex looked slightly annoyed.

"What's with you?" he demanded.

"I'm free!" she exulted, then got a mischievous grin on her face, "You hang mistletoe over your bed again?"

He smiled back at her, "Works every time."

"I'll bet. She looked pretty happy when she left."

"What can I say," he spread his arms, "Women can't resist me."

"Thank god I'm your sister, then. I'm immune and can knock some sense into you from time to time."

"Now why would I want to be sensible? It's not anywhere near as fun as being ridiculous," he gestured her over, asking, "When's the graduation ceremony?"

"A week from today," she smiled, then stumbled and put a hand to her head. She sat down on his bed, glancing glanced at her watch, "Oh no."

"What's wrong?" he sat up. She looked scared.

"I missed my interval," her eyes were wide as she met his, "I… I forgot, with all the preparation for the graduation, and I don't…" tears came to her eyes.

Alex gripped her arm, "It's at home, isn't it?" she nodded silently, "Don't worry. I'll beep mom, let her know…"

She cut him off, "I'm nearly an hour and a half late," her breath had quickened, she was starting to hyperventilate.

He grabbed her shaking hands, speaking softly, "Breathe, don't panic, you know that it only makes it worse," she nodded, mouth twisting in a grimace of pain, "Don't panic, just breathe. He pressed the call button urgently. The young orderly from before appeared in a second, "Get my parents," he demanded harshly, "Go!" she bobbed her head and ran off. Leah was rocking back and forth, trembling all over. He watched her face carefully, praying that they would get there before she started seizing.

Their father appeared at the door, followed seconds later by their mother and the orderly. Dr. Bowden opened up his coat, pulled out a syringe and a small bottle of pale gold liquid. He quickly prepared the needle, "Hold her arm still, Alex," when his son complied, he found the vein and plunged the syringe in, emptying it. Her arm started twitching as the serum entered her system, and a shiver passed through her whole body. Her breathing slowed and she stopped spasming.

Her father caught her as she started to fall sideways. He lifted her head up and looked into her eyes. Her pupils were dilated, but slowly contracting. She didn't seem to register his presence, but he spoke anyway, in a soft, urgent voice, "Leah," he turned her head towards him, "Leah, if you can hear me, blink." Slowly, painfully, her eyes closed and opened once, and there was collective sigh of relief in the room. Even the orderly, who had absolutely no idea what was going on, seemed happy. She silently excused herself. No one noticed.

Leah bent her head and rested it against her father's shoulder, "I'm sorry, Dad," she whispered tiredly, "I didn't mean to."

"It's all right. You're all right."

Alex put a hand on her back. He could feel her heartbeat slowing down through her thin shirt. Their mother walked over and lifted her up with her husband's help. "I'll take her home," she said softly, and walked out of the room with her daughter leaning heavily on her shoulder. Both men simply nodded and watched them go.

Dr. Bowden turned to Alex, "Thank god you were with her," he ran a hand through his hair, and Alex suddenly noticed how old his father looked. Old and tired.

"I think I should keep some of that stuff in my room from now on," he said. His father nodded, then got up and left silently. Alex stared at his retreating back, still worried for his sister. He hoped she'd be all right on her own, and wondered if she would rather have his visible scars than her own hidden ones.

7:35 pm. Lucius Fox still liked the Applied Sciences Department, even though he was now Director of the Board at Wayne Enterprise. Bruce didn't mind letting him tinker with his gadgets down in the basement; in fact, he encouraged it enthusiastically. And, every once in a while, he'd come down for a little 'visit.' Or his 'friend,' Batman, would. Fox was not a stupid man, so he knew that as long as he was supplying the Caped Crusader with nifty toys, he would stay right where he was.

Right now, however, he was looking at something for an old friend. Dr. Andrew Bowden had been an intern of Dr. Wayne when he was younger, and knew Fox well. But Bowden had a small problem. That problem was five-foot-eight, seventeen years old, and had a residual neurological condition from the fear gas attacks last year.

It wasn't unusual to find people in Gotham who were still affected by the gas, but the majority of them were in mental institutions. All the rest had to be under constant surveillance and care. But Leah was an exception; the only exception. No one who'd studied her case could figure out why the gas had affected her so differently. All Fox knew was that she needed to have daily injections of the antidote, or she'd start seizing and then slip into a comatose state. He was studying her blood work when the phone rang. He picked it up with one hand as he continued to star into the microscope.

"This is Fox speaking." A pause, then, "Is she awake?" another silence, "Good. Keep her that way. I'll be right over."

7:57 pm. Leah felt ill. She'd emptied her stomach on the way home, and was dry heaving in the bathroom when the doorbell rang. Through a dizzy haze, she recognized the voice of Lucius Fox. She leaned back against the bathtub, her mind fuzzy with half-remembered images. She could see a man on a horse, screaming in pain and fury, and something huge and black above her head. She tried to tell herself that it wasn't real, but it was frightening anyways. She couldn't remember why she'd been in the Narrows that night, only that it had nearly killed her. There was a hammer in her head, pounding rhythmically against her skull. The rim of the tub felt immensely comfortable, and she wanted nothing more than to slip into sweet unconsciousness. But her mother and Mr. Fox had other ideas, apparently.

At their calls, she stood shakily from her spot on the floor, and walked into the other room. Fox greeted her with a soft smile and an even softer hello, and motioned for her to sit next to her mother. She sat, staring at him as he looked her over. Then he stood, pulling a needle from his coat. The liquid was darker colored, and looked a little thicker than usual. She held her arm out obligingly, not waiting for him to ask her to. He knelt next to her.

"This is going to put you to sleep for a good while," he said.

She tilted her head and gave him a half-smile, "I want to sleep."

"Good," he slid the syringe into her bicep and pushed the plunger, "You have time to…" he trailed off as her eyes drooped shut and she fell back, "Or not."

Her mother smiled, "I guess she was tired already."

He stood, "Call me when she wakes up. If that takes more than forty-eight hours, I'll come back," he stopped and pulled another needle from his pocket, "And give her this tomorrow before noon. Just in case."

Mrs. Bowden nodded and thanked him as she saw him out the door. She turned back to her sleeping daughter, laid her out completely on the couch, and pulled a heavy blanket over her. She didn't even stir once. The stillness was unnatural, but it meant that would get better. At least, her mother hoped it did.

So! Hand shaky death! If any of you know what that's from, say tomatoes. You want to press the button. You want to press the button. You want to…