This one's longer. I think. :) Enjoy!

Chapter 7

I decided to take a night out and enjoy watching the bay. It smelled grimy, but it looked pretty. Brody and I listened to the laps of the water and watched the city lights as I slowly delved into thoughts that concerned the conversation with my father I had prior to this outing.

"Kid, you need adventure by yourself," he started.

My brows furrowed. "Dad, what d'you mean?"

"Out on your own," he grunted.

I sat on the edge of his beaten up armchair, bewildered. "But, who'll take care of you?"

He chuckled. "You no worry 'bout that."

"Yes dad, I do have to worry about that," I groaned.

He chuckled again. "We talk later."

Sighing, I scratched behind Brody's ears. He panted happily while I was thinking.

"Is this seat taken?"

Before the voice registered in my mind, I was whisked off my feet and into a pair of strong arms, my mouth covered by a gloved hand. Struggling, I heard Brody growl and get a good bite out of the perpetrator's leg.

I was dropped to the floor.

Crawling on the gravel, I grabbed Brody's collar and stayed behind him while surveying the scene. The Joker stood before us, breathing heavily, his makeup already smudged.

I acted before he could say anything else to me about the deal. Brody may be able to help defend me, but he's still in training. And frankly, I'd rather have him not get knifed in the muzzle tonight. I took a running leap off the railing and jumped with a last haphazard order to Brody to run home, which he grudgingly obliged to.

The Joker grasped blindly for me at the railing, but I was already over and plummeting towards the icy water in a pencil jump. I could hear his loud yells all the way till I hit the surface.

Reaching shore twenty minutes later, I grabbed a cab. The cabbie frowned at my damp clothing and sopping wet dollar bills, but drove on.

Once home, I was rushed through packing a small leather bag with little amount of clothes and Brody's dog treats. Finally pushed out the door by Isabella, I met my father, who stood in the driveway.

"Love you kid," he grumbled, mussing my hair.

"Love you too dad," I chokingly replied. "You know this doesn't mean you win the argument. I'm only gone temporarily."

He laughed, a hearty laugh I haven't heard in ages. "Go, kid," he nudged me into the waiting car, which was surprisingly being driven by Uncle Sal himself.

"Shit Sal," I exclaimed. "You're actually driving?"

He smirked at that, but peeled out of the alley next to our little shack, heading for his place.

I ran inside with the dog, grabbed at the phone, and connected with Commissioner Gordon via operator.

A gruff voice answered, "Hello?"

"Get me the Bat. It's Laurel."

"Meet us at the top of the station in one hour. Take the back stairs."

I disconnected, grabbing an extra bag of stuff I kept at Sal's. Adding some weapons and slipping on my dad's leather jacket, I said goodbye to Sal and Izzy.

On my way to the station, Brody panting beside me, I thought of what I'd say. Sal thought I wasn't fully protected in his home. He was probably right. And I didn't want them killed all because of me. So I had to find a secure hiding spot. The Bat would be the best to ask out of anybody.

They were waiting at the top of the station, as promised.

"Wow, you guys are pretty punctual."

"Your call seemed urgent," Gordon stated, his mustache bristling in the cold.

"Yeah, well Uncle Sal kind of dramatizes little situations. This was his idea, even though I still think I'd be safe back there with the dogs."

So I told them about the Joker's words, my recent little incident, and made it clear I would not meet him, whether there was a deal or not.

"He'll find you anywhere except one place," the Bat rasped. "Consider this my debt being paid."

"Where? I can just jump a random car and go."

Gordon seemed displeased with that last comment, but I think the Bat expected it. He just looked at me and walked towards the edge of the building, pressing a small button on his belt.

"You may want to follow him. Before he disappears," Gordon warned with a mustached frown.

I did exactly that, and the next thing I knew, I was blindfolded and in some sort of vehicle. The only thing that kept me from freaking the fuck out was the familiar panting in the backseat.

Nice. He even remembered my dog.

Finally, after flights of stairs and endless walking, I was allowed to take off the blindfold. I was in some sort of underground room, with practically no furniture and a very large computer. A gray haired man sat at the oversized keyboard.

"You have a guest Master Wa—" He seemed not to even want to finish the sentence. The Bat nodded, whispered a few things to the old man, and disappeared through the one doorway after entering a series of codes.

"Well," the old man began. "You may stay here as long as you like. I'm afraid you won't see too much of him," he motioned toward the now closed doorway.

"Who are you?" I asked. Okay, I'm not so polite, but I'd like to at least now the logistics.

"Alfred," the man replied with a small smile.

"Laurel," I introduced myself, then motioned towards the dog. "And Brody."

Alfred smiled, asking me if I wanted anything to eat, and went on his way.

"Oh, where can I sleep? I mean, I can take the floor, I'm just asking."

"The floor?" Alfred seemed appalled. "No, no. I'll show you to a room miss. If you'll follow me?"

I was shown to a guest room in the spacious house. Batman had a mansion… who could've guessed?

Brody lounged on the queen size bed while I changed. After hours of brain-rotting television, I left to go find the kitchen. I didn't know if I was allowed to roam, but I was starving.

After practically inhaling a pasta dish that was left out (Alfred was smart), I made my way back to the guest room. Not paying attention, I rammed into someone on the way there.

"Oh, I'm sorry Alfr—" Looking up at the person I'd walked into, I realized it was none other than the famous Bruce Wayne.

Holy. Shit.

"No you're not," I breathed. "Oh my god."

He looked absolutely terrified.

"Laurel," he began.

"Woah," I grinned, regaining my composure. "I won't shit talk, don't worry Bats." I flounced down the hallway, turning around to add, "I mean it. People in the mob may hate you, but my family doesn't after what you did."

Back at the room, I mulled this whole thing over. The man behind the mask was none other than Bruce Wayne. Interesting.

Of course it made sense. Of course Batman had to have an impossibly large sum of money to afford all his gadgets.

I was sitting in the guest bedroom, munching on potato chips as I watched yet more television. There was nothing else to do here. Sure, there were books, but hell, I don't read. Brody was out like a light in the corner. Alfred had made him a makeshift dog bed. He was a nice dude. Kind of like a grandfather.

A knock at the door startled me.

It was Batman. Without the mask. I'd have to get used to this.

"Laurel."

"Mr. Wayne."

We both started babbling at the same time. I began first, rambling, "I promise I won't tell Mr. Wayne, please just let me stay here for now, your house is really nice and so is Alfred and so are you and Brody loves it here and—"

He cut me off with his own gibberish, "I know you're apart of the mob, but you mustn't tell anyone, including your father Laurel!"

Everything was silent for a moment or so.

"I promise," I nodded.

To break the building tension, I added, "So, should I call you Bruce or…?"

He groaned and put a palm to his forehead, turning on his shined loafers to exit the room.