JADE'S POV

I looked at him. He had me by both wrists. He was holding me too far away for me to kick his shins, which were armored anyway. I was a robber, he was Batman. Police were just outside the cinema.

I was screwed.

There were also paramedics. I realized I probably wasn't wearing my ridiculous balaclava anymore if I had paramedics on me – they'd have taken it off to see if I was turning blue and to check pupil reaction. I must have spaced out for them to do that. But the needle woke me up. They always did.

It wasn't the actual pain of the needle that bothered me. I coped with far worse. It was the fact that it was in me and it stirred up bad memories. Here I was spacing out again.

"Why aren't you dead?" growled Batman

"D-don't know," I stuttered, coming back to life

"Then you're coming with me." He said

I looked at him. That wasn't good. That was bad; very, very bad.

He turned to the man named Gordon, who had caught up. He was the only one who had. He'd probably told the others to stay behind.

"I can hold off the red tape for forty eight hours." Said Gordon.

Batman nodded

Batman tossed me over his shoulder in a fireman's lift. It knocked the wind out of me. I was still gasping when we got outside into a back alley. He set me on my feet. My legs were weak and shaking. My left one, that had gone pop earlier, didn't want to work. It wouldn't straighten out. My chest was hurting again. I could feel the pain welling up into my stomach. I felt like I was going to puke. Without warning my other leg gave out. I landed on my arse on the dirty concrete. A hand reached from the darkness behind me. It grabbed me roughly by the arm and flung me against a wall. I whimpered. Ouch.

"Who are you?" came the growl. It sounded different in the dark.

It was a sound you could believe would cause you physical pain.

The voice made me wince and I was reminded of every single shout I'd ever heard.

I was reminded of the time I was staying in a crummy caravan park and I couldn't sleep so I sat out front and listened. I heard all the dark noises of the night but the one thing that stood out was the sound of the man next door beating his wife. That's what the growl sounded like; the man beating his wife.

I was spacing out again. Seeing times past. Remembering. Remembering was bad.

I didn't answer his question, I was to busy thinking. His grip on my arm became painfully tight. I let out another whimper

"Who are you?" he growled

"J-Jade." I whispered

"Jade who?"

"Smith" I said. It wasn't my surname. He knew it. His hand tightened further.

"Camdom" I gasped. Way to let my biggest secret go.

His grip on my arm loosened a little.

"Why didn't the gas affect you?" he growled. It was the same growl as before.

"What gas?" I asked. I hadn't seen any gas. Or smelt it.

He swung me around by my arm and pushed me to the wall again. My back smacked against it with a dull thud. He still wasn't close enough to kick.

"Don't play games." He said, deeper and darker than ever. In my head the man stopped beating his wife and grabbed a knife. He rammed it into her chest and she fell dead.

I couldn't see batman's eyes through the cowl, but when imagined what they must've looked like, I felt like curling up into a ball again and never coming back.

"I'm not! Not playing!" I cried. My chest was getting worse. It was getting hard to talk. I couldn't breathe either.

"It killed all the Joker's goons. Why not you?" He said again. The pressure in my chest was building.

I remembered the coughing and crying and pleading of those men. I remember the thumps as their bodies hit the ground. He was right. Why not me? Why had I been spared?

"I don't know." I sobbed.

Chest – can't breathe - hurt so much – want to die – make it stop! I thought. So I did stop. I stopped breathing.

My chest stopped hurting but my head started throbbing from lack of oxygen. I closed my eyes because they felt like they would burst from the pressure. I heard someone swear. Something plastic was shoved in my mouth and clipped on my nose – blocking it. It breathed into me. It caned.

No! No! Make it stop! No! Too much! Too much pain!

I felt like my ribs were splintering and my organs spilling out. I couldn't hold on. I tried to scream as loud and hard as I could but the only sound that escaped was a strangled wheeze.

I was picked up. I lifted my arms and tried to pull the thing from my mouth but my arms wouldn't move. They were being held.

I heard noise above the buzz of pain. I wanted to scream, but there was no breathe to do it with and I couldn't open my mouth. It was covered with the plastic gadget. I writhed with the pain, trying to lean forwards to get rid of it somehow, to scrape it off of me, but I couldn't. I was tied in a sitting position by something. I couldn't open my eyes to check. They were clenched shut.

I heard the noise outside increase to a roar. Pressure built on my chest. More. All the time. Couldn't breathe. Hurt so much. I felt something trickle down my face. My eyeballs must have burst. My eyes didn't hurt – my chest hurt, it hurt so much.

I tried to remember the song: maybe it would help me forget, but it wouldn't come.

I blacked out.


Batman looked at her. He let the full intensity of his glare unleash on the girl.

"I don't know." She sobbed. She gasped and stopped. He looked at her more. She closed her eyes and all of the sudden she went limp. She slipped, but he pulled her up. She wasn't breathing.

Was she playing dead?

He waited a minute. No. He couldn't afford to risk it.

He swore out loud and pulled the rebreather from his belt. It was built to cope with unthinkable pressure. It would breathe for her if something were wrong with her. He changed the setting so it would fit her lungs this time and put the clasp on. She screwed up her face in agony. He heard her try and whimper in pain. He felt her try to pull away but he didn't let her. He picked her up and walked the short distance to the batmobile. He hoped he was doing the right thing. If this was a trap set by the Joker, they were all dead – him, Alfred, Dick. If this girl was working with the Joker or a tool to get inside the cave…

He prayed his instincts were right. He prayed he was doing the right thing.

Why was he taking this risk? If he were wrong they'd all die. If he was right no one else might die from joker gas.

He started up the batmobile. He may as well get it over with. He turned and looked at the girl when the traffic lightened and he wasn't dodging other cars. She was crying through her closed eyes. Suddenly she went limp. Unconscious. She wasn't pretending. He was safe.

He sped around the twisting road towards the entrance to the bat cave. He parked it and radioed Alfred. He told him to put on a mask and come downstairs. He had a patient for him.


JADE'S POV

I woke up. It was strange. I hadn't expected to wake up. I'd thought I'd just sleep forever – that I'd be dead.

I heard mumbling. I tried to make out the words

"Illness, - - field medic - - can't treat - - doctor - -"

There was a quieter mumbling that I couldn't make out. The other voice mumbled in agreement. The voices seemed so far away. I couldn't reach them.

I shivered. I was cold, so cold. I tried to move my arms to wrap them around myself but they were strapped in.

What was going on?

I closed my eyes and tried to sleep for a while – I couldn't. My thoughts were moving a hundred miles an hour, I remembered – the interrogation, the pain, and the straps of the car pushing against my chest. But I wasn't in the car now. I wasn't sitting up. I was lying on my side, held down by straps around my hips, chest, arms and legs. The thing from before was still in my mouth, pushing air into my lungs. It hurt. The pain was so sharp I felt as though hot tar were being poured into me. I wanted to scream or moan or kick something – but I couldn't. I couldn't yell anymore. I was too weak.

Something wet and soft slapped me across the forehead. I jumped. I'd spaced out again.

What was it? What was the thing? It felt like a furry slug.

"She's awake, sir." Came a voice from nearby.

It was right next to me. It was the person who had mumbled about a doctor. He had an English accent. There were footsteps. Someone lifted my eyelid and shone a light in it. They did the same to the other. The light burned and I tried to move way, but I couldn't. My chest throbbed again and I screwed up my face to stop the tears.

"Do we have any morphine?" asked the British voice

"You know the electricity of her nerves reacting is the only thing that has an effect on the virus. We've already given her something for the chemicals." Said the second voice, It was deep and gravelly. Like a dog growling.

"Besides, she'll be here very soon."

I shivered again. It was so cold, and yet I could feel the sweat running off of me. I tried my best to curl up into a ball but couldn't so I just tensed up and listened to the blood rushing in my ears. It hurt again.


Batman looked at the girl. She said her name was Jade. That bit was true. She'd looked him in the eye when she'd said it. Her face hadn't been hollow. Her surname was Camdom.

He'd need her medical file. He typed it into the batcomputer to search. Alfred was cleaning her up. Presently he stopped.

"Sir, she's burning up." he said "An unusual reaction to the gas, perhaps?"

"No. I think she was ill before the gas. She's very thin and…" the other thing was fairly obvious. The clothes she was wearing were worn and ruined. She smelled like she only bathed once a week. Her hair and teeth were unbrushed and she probably had fleas. He'd noticed it before. This girl wasn't looked after, probably homeless – she would be susceptible to illness. It wasn't fair for someone so young to be like that. He realized he probably wouldn't find any health records on her, but it was worth a shot.

The computer came up clear. Nothing. Damn. He'd hoped he'd been hoping to be lucky.

He stood and walked over to the small cot on which the girl was tied.

"Anything I can do?" he asked

"Call Leslie." Answered Alfred brusquely

"I can't. She wouldn't approve. She'd realize my reason behind taking her," he pointed out

"I personally don't approve either, but she's better off here than if she'd escaped, though I doubt she'd agree. I don't know that my skills will be enough" Said Alfred

He began removing the girl's clothing, cutting it off if he couldn't get it around the straps. He bagged the clothing in an airtight evidence bag, leaving her in only her underwear.

"There you are, sir," he said handing them to Batman who was looking at the girl a bit confused.

"Couldn't you have waited until we had something else for her to wear?" he asked, taking them.

"No. Minimal clothing to combat the fever," replied Alfred

Batman nodded.

"Of course."

He felt stupid and sluggish. The sleepless nights were catching up on him.

"Call Leslie." Said Alfred "I know she won't approve, but I'm just a field medic, I can only treat injury, not illness. I can't treat this, sir. She needs a doctor."

Batman nodded. Alfred sounded quite desperate.

"She'll die if you don't, Bruce." He said quietly.

"I'll call her," he said. He pulled a phone of the wall. He had her number on speed dial. She answered.

"Hello? Leslie? It's Bruce."

"Bruce, what's wrong?" came the reply

"There's a sick girl here. She was exposed to Joker gas, but I don't think that's what's doing it. She needs help."

"Bring her here." Said Leslie

"I can't." May as well take the plunge.

"Why not?"

"She didn't succumb to the Joker's gas. I need to know why. I can only find out with the chemistry lab here."

There was a disapproving huff on the other end, then a sigh.

"Using someone as a guinea pig! Do you know how despicable –"

"Leslie, Please? There's no other way. Helping her will come before the investigation. I promise. I won't touch her until we know she's alright." He sounded like a small child.

"Fine. I'll be over – but don't think I support it." She hung up.

Bruce put down the phone and went over to try and help Alfred. He knew he hadn't heard the last of Leslie's anger.

Alfred had a stethoscope out and was listening to the girl's breathing with a scowl on his face.

"What's wrong?" He asked

"Her breathing. It's not right. It's crackling," said Alfred. "She has fluid in her lungs."

Alfred took out an ear thermometer and gently took her temperature.

103.5 Fahrenheit. It had gone up by half a degree and it had only been five minutes.

Alfred dipped a cloth in icy water, squeezed it a little and placed it on her forward. She jerked a little. A flinch.

"She's awake, sir." He said.

Batman gently lifted her eyelid and checked her pupil reaction. She tried to pull away but stopped. He could see her grimace even through the rebreather. Pain.

"Do we have any morphine?" Alfred asked

Bruce explained that they couldn't give it to her – it might have an adverse effect.


JADE'S POV

I felt something cold on my back –where it hurt most in my chest.

I gasped for breath when it pressed against me – It was freezing and it hurt.

"Easy, take it easy." Said a soothing female voice

I couldn't. It hurt too much. I gasped and coughed. It hurt even more. The thing fell off of my face and I cried from the pain.

"Stop it." I gasped, "Stop it hurting!"

"We can't yet." Said the voice.

The straps around my body were undone – which helped my chest when the chest strap was removed. I was rolled over onto my back. I kept my eyes closed. The straps were done up again. I struggled when they tried to put the chest strap on. It was left undone. I coughed again. The pain was getting worse.

"Take a deep breath." Said the voice.

"No" I whispered, "can't"

"Try"

I tried. It hurt. I couldn't breath any deeper.

Someone took my arm and started searching for a vein. I tried to struggle, but I didn't have the strength. My chest hurt too much.

I felt the needle pierce me. I saw the images flash past. I felt my eyes get wet

"No. Don't do it, please" I cried

My chest hurt too much when I'd cried. I couldn't breathe. I could feel them attaching an IV to my arm.

"I'm going to give you a sedative. It'll make you sleep." Said the voice. I felt pressure on the IV, and then things changed.

It was like it wasn't my body. It hurt, but I couldn't think or feel – the only feeling I felt was pain, and it was different than before. It felt like any other feeling – like happiness or joy, but I knew this was pain. Pain was all there was.


Batman watched Leslie examine the girl. They sedated her and Leslie had thought it necessary to intubate her. There was an icepack wrapped around her head to try and protect her brain from her rising temperature. Leslie drew blood from the IV. Six vials. Three for finding out the girl's illness and three for finding out why she hadn't died when the Joker gassed her, Leslie could take more blood if she needed, Bruce wouldn't.

Batman was even considering a link between the illness and the gas.

He remembered reading somewhere about the world's first vaccination. It had been against Smallpox. Some doctor in the 1700's had realized that all the milkmaids didn't get smallpox, but only the ones that had had cowpox. Cowpox had been the vaccine for Smallpox. People who caught cowpox couldn't catch smallpox and so vaccination was born.

Perhaps this wasn't so different. Perhaps whatever was wrong with the girl had saved her.

He put her blood sample into one of his machines. It deconstructed it. Her platelets were slightly down. Her white cell count was extremely high – but that was to be expected – she was fighting whatever she had, but not enough to defeat the Joker's virus. He used his computer to search for all known antibodies running though her blood to fight infection. On a normal computer it might have taken a week, but his computer was better than the ones NASA used to orchestrate the paths of spaceships. Several flags came up.

Measles mumps, Purtussis – All the live vaccines came up. She'd been immunized. That surprised him. A free clinic perhaps? Or had she not always been homeless?

A few others came up – a type of strep and chickenpox. They were too common to be a cure.

There were millions of others but none of them identifiable – in other words, she was a perfectly normal, filthy human being.

He broadened the search by a tiny bit – allowing close matches to slip through.

He got three thousand answers. He organized them by the frequency in which they were found. The most concentrated one stood flashing at the top of the screen. It was unidentifiable.

He told his computer to search for near matches.

Pneumonia of some type, obviously. The computer came up with a 70 match.

Microplasma Pneumonia. He called Leslie over. She took a close look at it.

"I get this occasionally with some of the homeless people at the clinic. We treat it with Emoxil – penicillin and a drain in the lungs." She said "But with only a seventy percent certainty, I'd get a sample of the stuff in her lungs first. I can't get past her breathing tube to get it and I'm not willing to take it out unless she's awake."

Bruce looked at her. She looked uncomfortable.

"So, we wake her up?" He asked.

Leslie nodded.

"It won't be nice."

She injected the sedative reversal. It was a slight stimulant, but they hoped that wouldn't do too much damage.

"She'll be awake any minute now." Said Leslie. Alfred changed the cloth on her forehead. Her eyelids fluttered a little. She let out a heavy cough and winced, tears flicked through her eyes. Leslie gently removed the tube. She coughed several times and convulsed in pain. Her chest was hurting too much. She stayed quiet though.

Leslie explained what she was going to do;

"I'm just going to put this down your throat to see if we can get at whatever's making you cough. It might make you vomit, so we'll sit you upside down – make it easier."

They moved the bed so that she was tilted and her head was lower than her chest.

She looked terrified.

Leslie was very gentle. The tube must have tickled the kid's throat as it went down because she coughed harder than ever and tried to pull away, but couldn't. Bruce held her in place.

They were all relieved when they finally got the sample.

"We'll send you back to sleep now." Said Leslie.

"Wait." Whispered the girl "No penicillin. It'll kill me." She gasped

She coughed again, but this time it didn't stop for a few minutes, when the girl finally blacked out.

Alfred intubated her again while Leslie looked into Batman's medicine cabinet.

There was an alternative to Penicillin. It was a thick, pink liquid to be taken orally. It was too late for that. She had something at the clinic that could go intravenously. She tapped Batman on the shoulder. He was searching the Internet for information on the pneumonia. He was very deeply engrossed.

"I need you to get something from the clinic for me." Said Leslie "It's the penicillin alternative, kept in the back supply room in a taped up box next to the penicillin. I'd go myself, but she needs a lung drain desperately – her oxygen levels dropping."

He nodded.

He took off in the batmobile. He didn't like playing errand boy, but someone's life was at stake. He'd bury his pride.

He rushed as quickly as he could. The medicine was exactly where Leslie said it would be. He hurried back.

Alfred was swabbing an area on the side of the girl's chest, but of more note was the large tube sticking out from the middle of the area he was swabbing. A thick yellow liquid was draining out of it. It looked like pus.

Despite his strong stomach, he thought he was going to be sick.

Leslie snatched the IV bags of him and hooked them up, before taking the girl's temperature again. No change – for better or worse.

Batman sat at his computer.

An idea had occurred to him in his rush–

What if the microplasma virus was an antidote to the Joker's virus?

He needed a sample of the virus. He went to his machine and made it extract the joker virus from the blood. It took half an hour.

Usually he would meditate or do something to distract himself but coughs kept echoing up from his patient in the medbay. They broke his concentration. He'd go visit Dick, but he didn't want Dick to come in even distant contact of either of the viruses even if they didn't seem transmittable. He also didn't want to have to explain about the dying little girl in the cave. It wouldn't be good for Dick. He'd seen enough people die. Dick was only ten; his immune system hadn't fully developed yet. Even mild exposure to the joker's gas would kill him.

He'd used twelve of his forty-eight hours up. Gordon could only make the girl disappear so long before people started asking questions.

His machine beeped. The sample was ready.

He carefully put it into a sealed area and mixed it with the Joker virus. No effect.

Perhaps the anti bodies her body created then? He extracted them from the last vile he had. He mixed them with the Joker virus.

The virus died on contact. It died so quickly the concentrated virus seemed to fizz.

For the first time since this fiasco had begun, Bruce relaxed.