That night, Laura started to drive towards Bruce's place, but she decided that she couldn't face him with the memory of the afternoon fresh in her mind. She drove around randomly instead. Eventually, she found herself at Rachel's old apartment. It hadn't been sold yet, so she had free access to it, and she took advantage of it. Unlocking the door, Laura braced herself for the onslaught of emotions she was about to have. She walked in and stopped dead. The smell was so familiar. The same ugly, old brown couch sat in the living room. Everything was just the way Rachel had left it a month before. Finally, Laura got the nerve to walk farther in, but she only made it to the ugly couch before breaking down into tears again. "I'm so sorry," she cried into the arm of the couch. "I'm sorry I didn't save you. I'm sorry I'm betraying you now! Forgive me." Gratefully, she fell into a fitful sleep.

But, 30 minutes later: RING! "Shit," she moaned. She grabbed her cell and mumbled, "Hello?"

"Laura, where are you?" Bruce's concerned voice yelled through the earpiece.

"Stop yelling. I'm at Rachel's."

"Why?" He sounded completely flabbergasted.

"Because I want to be, goober. What's up?"

"Well, you didn't call after work, so I called in to see if you were staying late. Gordon picked up and said that you had left. I got worried."

"So I can see. I'm fine. Do you want me to come over?"

"Yes…if you feel up to it."

"Kay. I'm on my way." She hung up before listening to his response. She slowly walked out to her car. She was about to unlock it when a voice came from behind.

"Hello."

She tensed and then turned around. "Harvey? What are you doing here?"

"Same as you," he muttered, watching her. "Mourning."

She looked long and hard at him. He was not the same person he used to be. Not even the unburned side. His eyes were full of hate at everything. "You will always blame me for this won't you?"

"Of course, but you were Rachel's sister. I cannot harm you. Are you gonna call your cops?"

She wearily shook her head. "It's not worth it. They have no reason to believe me."

"What did you do?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"I'm not telling you. What do you want if not to mug me?"

"I just wanted to talk to you. It's been a while."

She stared at him. "Well, if you don't mind, I'm going somewhere and Bruce will be freaking out if I don't show up within the accepted time limit."

He gestured towards the car. "Oh, please, don't let me interrupt you. Be gone, if you must. It was good seeing you." He started to walk away.

"Harvey!" she called after him. When he turned she finished, "It was good to see you too." He melded into the darkness and Laura felt no guilt at letting him go.

When she walked into Bruce's pent house she found herself caught up in his arms. "Bruce," she said, muffled by his arm, "can't breathe here!" He let go. "Do I have to bloody tell you where I am every second of every day? Seriously!"

He looked sheepish. "I just get worried. You know, with Harvey still out and about…you never know."

"Yeah, whatever." She walked off to put her purse and jacket down.

"Hey!" he called from his previous position.

"What?!"

"What the hell is going on with you? You've been snappy and down ever since that 'old friend' called. Tell me what happened."

"Nothing happened, Bruce. I'm just really tired and emotionally stressed right now." It wasn't a lie. At least the tired and stressed part wasn't. Regretfully on the verge of tears again, she turned away from him.

"Laura, I know you. I do. Something isn't right."

"Nothing is right!" She whipped back around. "My world has been torn apart! You are officially an outlaw now…well, your alternate personality is. I'm supposed to arrest the Batman on-sight, no questions asked. Even copycats are afraid to come out. The one person I could tell absolutely everything to is dead. Blown up by a manic clown who may or may not have broken out of Arkham. Two-Face is scaring everyone to death. What is right in this picture, Bruce? Tell me one thing that is right and I'll drop it."

His face cleared, and then changed to a face of pity and love. "Come here," he said quietly, holding out his arms.

She walked to him and collapsed into his arms, crying (Sigh, again). "I don't want to lose you."

"You won't. Batman is nearly undetectable."

"I'm not talking about Batman! I'm talking about you."

"But, I am Batman."

"No. No you're not. You are Bruce Wayne. Batman is Batman. They're two different people now. One can take care of himself, but I feel rather protective of the other." He just pursed his lips and held her closer. They worked their way towards the bedroom and finally made it. Laura made a teary call to Gordon to tell him that she couldn't come in the next day. He said it was fine immediately. She changed into pajamas and waited while Bruce did the same. He joined her in the bed and they lay there, staring at each other.

"You're very beautiful when you cry," he said.

She scoffed. "Don't try to make me feel better."

"I wasn't. I was stating a fact. As a cop I figured you would appreciate that."

She cringed inside. "Yeah. Well, thanks for the thought." She snuggled into his chest and breathed in the smell of him. It was unique, and she didn't know how to describe it, but it always made her feel better. Like a drug. Her fingers traced each of his individual ab muscles while he gently rubbed her back. Quietly, he started to sing Santa Fe again. She smiled and let herself fall asleep.

The next day, the two did nothing but lie in the bed. Alfred came in a few times to ask if they were hungry. Bruce ate once, Laura not at all. They talked about things from the long gone past. Things like what they used to play at the Manor, the tricks they played on Alfred, the way they annoyed Rachel when she was reading, and, of course, how Alfred always kept the condensed milk on the top shelf. Seemed to be a recurring event of remembrance. It was getting close to 7 pm when Gordon called.

"Laura, I know you're sick, but if you can come in tomorrow, I'd greatly appreciate it."

"I was planning on it. What's going on?"

"We've got another murder."

"We gotta name on the victim?"

"Yeah. Jack Napier Sr."

"Ah, same last name as our last guy."

"That's what I thought. This is getting fishy, Laura."

"Gordon, it's a murder. It's not supposed to be clear and simple."

He laughed. "I suppose you're right. I'll talk to you in the morning. Good night."

"Night, boss. Say hi to the family for me."

"Sure. Bye."

Laura flipped her phone shut and sighed. Damn that clown.