This took forever, I know… Sorry about that. However, after a looooong time, I'm working in this story again, and I think I'll even have the next chapter soon (by soon I mean in less then months, maybe in a few weeks).

There isn't much to explain here. Batman out of Gotham… Jason Bard dealing with cops… I wanted this chapter to have less angst, and I wanted Barbara Gordon to be in it. Oh! And I wanted GPD detectives to look better than in the last chapters.

There's Talia too, and I would like to know how you feel about her. Must say I was never a big fan, but tried my best to make her… well, herself. Mind you, this is Talia from Morrison's run in Batman, the current crazy terrorist, not Bruce's girl Talia.

And, before you ask, no, no Damian.

Anyway, hope you have fun, and hope you guys understand this chapter is simple, because I'm getting use to write again. Be nice.

Have fun!

AliaAtreidesBr

He entered the plane without even asking for her permission.

Luckily, she had placed cameras on the outside, and had her eyes on the door when he finally got in.

"You didn't have to break into my plane, you know?" Barbara Gordon stared at the invader with a look of obvious censure.

He closed the door behind him, and she saw as he assumed a more relaxed position: "Hello, Barbara."

She nodded her head, clearly reproving him, but a half-smiled showed in her lips.

"Hi, Bruce…" She moved her wheelchair closer to him, trying to have a better look of the man she knew as Batman. "How are you doing?"

The question came in a tone that was more worried than she meant it to sound. She noticed how he resented that, his body moving a few inches away from her, the cape closing around him, his lips suddenly pressed together. Signs she had taken years to understand, but now unspoken signs she could read so well. "Bruce, Bruce…", she thought to herself, "you'll never change, will you?"

"I'm here because I need something."

There he was, speaking to her in his husky Batman voice.

"Really, Bruce, you don't have to use this tone with me." She took a deep breath, making it audible enough to him. "Actually, you don't even have to wear this cowl…"

"This is not a social visit, Barbara."

"It should be." She smiled. "If you want something from me, the social visit works better."

He stared at her in silence for a few seconds, and Barbara could sense his hesitation. However, when he spoke again, he sounded gentler:

"I know I haven't been around."

"Well, this is Metropolis. I don't expect to see you around."

"Still… We haven't spoken in a while."

"True." Barbara looked down for a moment. "But I guess we are both to blame for that."

"Yes, you're right." He raised both hands to his cowl, removing his mask in a swift move. "But I'm sorry for it anyway."

Now she looked at him directly into his eyes, eyes she was somewhat surprise to find so tired and weary. In fact, now that she had a good view of Bruce's face, Barbara could easily recognize signs of exhaustion in her friend and former mentor, undeniable traces of the continuous hunt he had put himself into.

"Bruce…" Again she sounded more worried than she intended to. "God, how long since you've slept?"

He gave her the look; the look that said "don't go there, Barbara."

"You'll kill yourself; you know that, don't you?"

"I'm fine, Barbara. Please, you're sounding like…"

"Dick? Alfred? Tim? Like all of them, I guess."

"Like you don't know me, that's what I was going to say." He turned to look at the many computer monitors Barbara had in her plane, each one showing a different sort of information, numbers, names, or images. Bruce seemed to take interest in a list of suspicious money transfers that had taken place in Asian banks during night.

"It's because I know you that I'm worried." She studied his chiseled profile, the concentrated gaze he focused on that computer screen. "I've heard about Selina, and…"

"Then you know I'm only doing what I have to."

"And what is it that you have to do?"

His glance to her was a cold one. "If you didn't know, you wouldn't be in this plane."

Barbara sighed: "I know my reasons, Bruce… If I knew yours, maybe I wouldn't have left Gotham."

A minor movement in his eyebrows was all the reaction he let himself show. However, he again covered his face with his dark mask, and, abandoning whatever he was doing in the computer, turned his back on Barbara and prepared to leave.

"Shit…" She bit her lower lip, a habit that denounced her regret for the words that just seemed to have jumped out of her mouth. "Now I was the one that ruined it."

"No, Bruce, wait…!" Moving the chair, she had reached his cape with a hand, grabbing it in a firm grasp.

"Let go, Barbara."

His tone, surprisingly, was neither harsh nor angry. Still, her own voice failed her:

"I… I didn't mean…"

"I know."

Though serious, there was no resentment in his voice. He didn't turn to face her; however, he didn't try to escape the tight grip she had of his cape, and he too seemed to have more to say.

"I do want to help, okay?" She emphasized her words with a gentle pull on the fabric she had between her fingers.

"You don't have to, Barbara. You wanted to be on your own, and I shouldn't…"

"Hey!" She interrupted him, and her hand left the cape just to quickly get hold of his arm. "Weren't you listening?"

As he glanced from over his shoulder, she had a jocular smile for him:

"I want to help." She gently pressed her fingers around his wrist. "I may have left Gotham, but I would never leave you in a time like this."

He said nothing, and she knew he wouldn't. He hated to discuss the personal things, and, in the end, that's what this was. The silence, however, was all the answer she needed. Loosing the grasp she had of his arm, Barbara slowly drove her wheelchair away from him and closer to the computer keyboard. In the end, there was always a way of showing him how much she cared:

"What can I do for you, Batman?"

Jason Bard loved Gotham.

The statement was simple enough, but that was just a superficial look at it. In fact, anyone that had time and disposition to look deeper, more carefully, would know that Bard's love for Gotham was a strange, unnatural feeling.

If anything, Gotham City had so many times made Bard's life hard, painful, even sad, that one would wonder why this former police officer, with no relatives, and basically no friends, remained in the so often dangerous, violent city he was born in.

Jason had considered all those things himself, and he had thought long and hard about it. Looking at his life in retrospective, he could point out many moments in which he could have left town, and could have been gone to pursue something far more peaceful and uneventful. Indeed, tragedy wasn't unknown to him, quite the opposite. After all, he was the kid whose father had murdered the mother in a brutal, shocking crime (it didn't have much repercussion back then, since papers were already having too much fun with the Wayne's murderer, and Jason's family was just that kind of ordinary joes that kill each other and don't look good in pictures). Still, Jason grew up turning his resentment only to his father, and not towards the world. In fact, he even chose to be a police officer, finding in the job some sort of redemption, a way of expunging the bad feelings that he still carried since the tough childhood.

Early in his life as cop Jason discovered his true calling. He loved almost everything about being a police officer, but there was this thing he loved the most: investigate. Soon enough Bard recognized himself as a detective before anything, and he boldly followed that road. He was also fortunate to be noticed by Jim Gordon, and that was when things started to, for once, go well in his life. He was promoted, he found a friend in the old Commissioner (kind of the father figure he never had, actually), and, of course, he found Barbara. At that point, Bard would think of himself as a lucky man, believe it or not. He had all: the job, the family, the girl. Nothing could go wrong, right?

Wrong.

Wrong, because that was Gotham. Gotham doesn't let things go well for too long, and it always has a way of turning your life upside down.

Killer Moss was the first "mask" that ruined his life. A shot, a damn shot in Bard's knee, and an entire career in the Force ended. And a life of pain begun – Jason found out the worst way that knee injures never go away. That wasn't all, of course. Soon enough he lost Barbara, and, he wouldn't know the truth for years, thanks to the vilest mask of all. The Joker, in a crazy rampant, attacked Barbara and crippled her. That's when she decided she needed to be alone, and cut Jason out of her life.

Life proceeded as a dark nightmare for Bard. Between the pain and the lost of all the things he cherished, he tried to earn a living as a private detective, and it didn't turn out so bad. After all, if there's one thing you could always count in Gotham was on dark things to be investigated.

In the end, Jason Bard loved Gotham. Yes, it had been the place of his misery in many occasions, but where else in the world a man with Bard's talents could do so well? From crippled police officer to private detective hired by the city's big hero…

Only in Gotham.

And only in Gotham you would have a coffee shop called "The Cat's Corner", it's logo a sexy lady in a ridiculous cat outfit (pointy ears and a tail), the place proudly having a plaque hanged in the entrance that said: "This place was used by the Catwoman as headquarters during the Earthquake, and it sheltered many of the East End homeless citizens during those dark days. Today, thanks to Wayne Enterprises' donations, 'The Cat's Corner' is a successful business, and part of it's profit goes to the 'Earthquake's Orphans Foundation'."

Bard took a deep breath, and entered "The Cat's Corner".

"Can I help you, sir?" He was addressed by a young waitress holding an empty tray, and dressed in a purple uniform that somehow tried to simulate a cat's outfit.

Jason would like nothing else but to tell the girl to get off those stupid clothes, but he simply answered:

"I'm fine, thanks. Just meeting someone." He vaguely looked around the place. "Oh, there they are." He smiled at the waitress. "I'll sit with my friends, but, if you like, we can talk later…"

The girl's face was taken by a sudden flush, and she smirked nervously. "I… I… don't know…"

"Tell you what: I'll just wait outside until your shift is over. This will give you… what, a couple hours to decide if want me to buy you dinner?"

"Actually, my shift has just started…"

"Great. You'll have enough time to make a decision that will not regret." He smiled. "I should seat with my friends, now. They are looking very upset, 'cause I'm already late… They hate to wait." Sighing, he glanced at the table where he should be. "Cops."

"Cops?!? Really?" The girl followed Bard's look.

"Yes, really. It's part of the job…"

Jason walked to the table on a corner, where two people sat and looked at him in obvious dissatisfaction. Marcus Driver and Romy Chandler, detectives of Gotham PD, and, currently, people he should exchange information with – or so said the boss.

"So nice of you to join us, Bard." Driver's sarcastic tone was painfully obvious. "I mean, we wouldn't want to ruin you date with the cat-waitress…"

Jason pulled a chair next to Chandler, knowing that this would infuriate Marcus Driver, and, still, he would have nothing to say. After all, despite the fact that everyone knew Marcus and Romy were dating, the detectives were always trying to be as professional as possibly, and this included never mentioning anything about their relationship while they were working.

"You guys choose the place, if I'm not mistaken." Bard fished a muffin from Romy's plate, despite the outraged "hey!" the female detective let escape. "And, of course, I'm just trying to keep up with the tradition…"

"Tradition?"

"When in the East Side, always keep a Cat-lady by your side."

"Ha-ha." Chandler forced a laugh. "Very funny, Bard. Now, if you could be serious for a moment…"

"I can be serious for you, Romy."

"That would be Detective Chandler, Bard." Driver's remark was dry and had a threatening intonation. "Can we keep a professional level, please?"

Jason smiled, an honest and respectful smile. "Okay, okay… That was uncalled for. Sorry."

"It's fine…" Chandler sighed. "We're kind of on the edge here… Things have been… tense, so to speak."

Bard frowned. "What do you mean?"

The detectives exchanged glances for a second, and Romy slightly moved her head, as encouraging Driver.

"Well", Marcus spoke, "we were hoping you could give us some insight, actually."

"About…?"

As Driver looked down, lips pursued, Chandler continued:

"About your boss, Jason." She lowered her tone. "About Batman."

He smirked. "Oh, that's rich…! Aren't you the people that are always saying you don't need the guy? Isn't Marcus the one that is always saying Batman attracts more freaks to this town than actually puts them behind bars?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah…! Go ahead!" Driver seemed to be prepared for Bard's mockery. "Make fun of me, call me…"

"An ungrateful bastard?"

The detective said nothing, and merely waved his head in disapproval.

"We're loosing focus here." It was Romy, trying to bring the conversation back into topic. "This is not about wounded egos, but about a homicide investigation…"

"Soon to be double homicide…" Marcus bitterly added.

"Double homicide? What do you mean? Did Irena Dubrovna…"

"Not yet", Detective Chandler raised her hand to the pendant on her neck, nervously – and unconsciously - grasping it, "but she had heart failure this morning, according to the officer we have guarding her. Internal bleeding, apparently; doctors are working on her in surgery, but…"

"Oh, no…" Bard sighed.

"I trust you can handle these few simple tasks…"

Batman was standing in Jason Bard's dark living room, conducting a business conversation at three a.m. – it seemed to be one of his most productive hours, and his favorite time for visiting.

"No problem, Bats…" Jason yawned. "It's taken care of."

"Bard", he groaned, "this is a major case, understand? A top priority!"

The detective realized his boss was in one of his moods. "Yes, yes, I understand…! I'm taking it seriously, honestly." He rubbed his face with both hands, forcing himself to look more alert. "I didn't mean any disrespect."

Batman silently watched as Jason rubbed off the sleepiness in his eyes, staring the man in a way that Bard couldn't even begin to guess what it was about. "Something wrong?", he risked the question.

The only answer he got was Batman taking something from his belt, and tossing it to Jason. Surprised, but still able to react, the man grabbed what was thrown, noticing the object was heavier than he expected for such a small thing.

"What's this?", he asked. In his open palm, Bard could see a rectangular device, maybe an inch long, and it had a small button to press. Other than that, it looked like a diminutive box, with Batman's symbol on one side.

"Long distance communicator." His tone was now back into the emotionless pattern. "It has a satellite signal, and it can reach virtually anywhere in the globe."

"I see." He brought the thing near his eyes, trying to have a better look at it. "I guess you're going on a trip that can lead you virtually anywhere in the globe, hm?"

"Something like that."

"You want updates? Is that what this thing is for?"

"Yes." Batman's voice was now husky, deep. "Specific updates."

"That's what I'm here for." He crossed his arms, eyes on the dark shape ahead. "What should I be looking at?"

"Irena Dubrovna."

"Oh." He hadn't been able to avoid this brief verbal expression of disappointment. "The lady that was attacked? Really?"

"At all times, Bard. You should be aware of everything that happens to her."

"Hm… Should I be looking for something in particular?"

Batman turned to leave – using the window, as usual. "I just told you what you should be looking for, Bard." Now he sounded impatient. "If anything changes, I want to be informed immediately."

"No matter when?"

"That's right, Bard. No matter when, no matter what."

"'Oh, no'?" Romy was staring at Jason, seeming very amused. "You actually look pale, Bard… Do you honestly care about Miss Dubrovna?"

"Trust me, I care." He did; he cared for her, and, mostly, he cared enough about himself to avoid guessing what Batman would do if he failed the one simple task it was given to him. "Brilliant. The one day I'm not there, and this happens…" He felt nauseated. "Can we go straight to the point, please? You wanted to meet, well, here I am. Anything you need, anything you want from me…?"

Again Marcus and Romy exchanged glances.

"Well…" Driver spoke first, clearly confused and hesitant after Jason's reaction to the news about Irena Dubrovna. "We… we were kind of hoping you… you could, maybe, be able to fill some gaps for us…"

The private detective rolled his eyes. "Okay… What do you have?"

Driver opened his mouth, but no sound came.

"What's the matter, Driver?" He stared at the detectives, his eyes going from Marcus to Romy, both avoiding his glance. "What's going on? Why don't you…"

"We were hoping", Chandler abruptly interrupted him, "we were wondering, actually, if, maybe, you could make arrangements…"

"Arrangements?"

"Yeah… You know, arrange for us to meet."

"We are meeting right now…! What the hell are you talking about?"

Marcus leaned over the table - almost pouring Bard's coffee - and whispered:

"We need to see him."

"See him…?" It took a few seconds for Jason to get the meaning of Driver's words. "Oh! Oh, I see! You want to meet with the Bat, isn't that right?"

The detectives silently accepted Bard's statement, clearly uncomfortable by the way the private investigator would speak of it.

"No need for all the noise, okay?" Romy looked around the old dinner, clearly searching for someone that could be hearing their conversation.

"Relax, guys… This is Gotham. People are used to hear things like that."

Marcus seemed impatient:

"Can you arrange the meeting or not?"

"I'm no match-maker, you know?" Bard smiled.

"You son of a…"

"Easy, Driver!" Jason's tone was a warning, and the smile disappeared to give place to an earnest expression. "I'm not trying to be funny – okay, that's a lie, maybe I am… Anyway, I'm not messing with you, I'm not playing difficult." He sighed. "I would like to help you guys, but I can't."

"Why?!?" Romy's disappointment was clear in his voice and expression.

Reaching for the recent filled cup of coffee ahead of him, Bard drank, placed the cup back on the table, and spoke as he stared the darkness in it. "He's not in town."

Marcus smirked, a sound that matched his nervousness and his disbelief.

"Are you serious?"

"I'm afraid so." Jason raised his eyes to look at the detectives; Chandler's failed expectations, Driver's growing anger. "Sorry."

"Unbelievable…" Marcus waved his head from side to side, a troubled and bitter smile on his lips. "We should have known better, Romy… We can't count on these guys."

"Marcus…"

"Let's go, okay?" He reached for his wallet, taking a few bills and tossing it over the table.

"Hey, camon…"

Driver was already on his feet, anxiously staring at Romy Chandler, who remained on her seat. "Are you coming?"

She looked up to him, but said nothing.

"Romy…" The detective opened his mouth as he was going to say something, but he closed it without a sound. He glanced at Romy for a second, his eyes on hers, and then moved his head side to side. And though he looked furious a few seconds before, he now had replaced all the anger for a deep disappointment, something closer to sadness and regret. He turned to leave: "Do as you want."

"Marcus…"

He didn't look at her as he walked out.

Jason, quietly seating in his chair, and clever enough to realize it was a good moment to say nothing, silently observed the female detective near him. He saw as she sighed, and placed both hands over her own face. She only revealed her face again after a minute or so, when she finally reassumed her casual detective-look. It was the way those guys – Bard knew it better than anyone – had of putting everything behind but their job, the way most cops – or the good ones, anyway – had of making the job more than a job, turning business into personal business.

"Kind of like the Bat does", he concluded.

"You're not lying, are you, Bard?"

"I'm not." He looked into her eyes. "I don't know much, Romy, but I know this: he wouldn't leave unless it was important. And, for what I could see, it was."

"Something to do with the sniper case?"

"You bet." Jason considered if, maybe, he was talking too much; but, on the other hand, he couldn't avoid the sympathy he now felt for those cops, those dedicated cops… like he once was. "He's following a really good lead…"

"The wrong one."

"What?" It's was Bard's turn to smirk in disbelief.

"I mean it." Romy had placed a hand over the table, nervously tapping her fingers on it. "Marcus and I bumped into a piece of information that could explain a lot… or everything, maybe."

Jason stared the detective, studying her carefully. Could this be a trap? Could this be a trick? "No", he thought to himself, "no, Chandler is a good cop." There were just a few things Bard could do well in his life; one was getting into trouble. Another was investigating bizarre murders in Gotham City. The third… well, the third had always been recognizing a good cop. And Jason Bard would bet anything, anything that Romy Chandler and her grumpy boyfriend Marcus Driver were, if nothing else, good cops.

So he did the only thing he could:

"Tell me everything", he said.

Noises outside the door were getting closer by the second.

And louder.

"Please, my lady! We should leave this place!"

Talia's only reaction was to help herself with more wine.

"He comes, my lady!"

Talia glanced at the door, a steel door reinforced with titanium, sighing as she noticed how all sounds had now faded. Without any enthusiasm, or any signs of worry, she reached a hand to take one of the large strawberries from the bowl full of fruits she had on the table in front of her.

"Ubu", she said, "open the door for our guest, will you?"

"My lady?!?" Ubu was a tall and incredibly built up man, with large arms and the undeniable appearance of a warrior. He had dark skin, and dark eyes that usually carried an attentive look and a threatening expression; however, at that moment, his face showed only paleness and obvious fear.

"I'll not say it again, Ubu." Talia turned a cold glance to her faithful servant. "Open the door!"

Ubu reacted the only way he could. Taking a deep breath, he bowed to his master, and went to the door.

It was too late, however. Even before Ubu approached the control panel on the wall to type the code that would open the door, the soft sound of the lock being unlocked could be heard. Then, the heavy metal door was suddenly wide open, and a dark silhouette could be seen. Ubu wasted no time, and reached for his sword.

"Ubu, no…!" Talia tried to warn her bodyguard, but it was too late; as he drew his sword, a bat-rang immediately hit Ubu's hand, causing the man to drop the weapon. Than, a well executed kick on his stomach, and a punch that ended the fight, sending a knocked out Ubu to the floor.

And Batman now stared at Talia.

"Bravo, beloved!" She made no move, except for clapping her hands and smiling with satisfaction. "You actually surprised me with your swift approach!"

Batman glanced around, eyes carefully studying the room they were in: a small place, with nothing much than stone walls and a table – Talia now seating on the only chair in the room, her feet over that table, still smiling, still showing no signs of disturbance.

"Worry not, beloved." Her tone was soft, pleasant. "I have no tricks, no traps."

He didn't move: "I know better than just trust you, Talia."

She rose from her seat, a glass of wine in one hand. "That's harsh, my love."

"I haven't even started."

The answer brought a smile to her lips again, a smile that now could be describe as seductive, even malicious. She walked towards him, moving her body with elegance, every step a careful exhibition of her undeniable beauty, her perfectly shaped body, her dangerous, mysterious eyes.

"Wine?" She offered him the glass in her hands.

He moved with incredible speed, giving Talia no chance to react; his hand reached for hers, his fingers closing around her wrist, the pressure around it forcing Talia to drop the glass, the delicate vessel spattering on the stone floor in multiple shards. Pulling her close, he forced her arm against her back, causing Talia to clench her teeth in obvious pain.

"You come with me, murderer!" His voice was husky and seriously threatening.

Despite the pain, Talia managed a crude smile:

"Love is truly blind, isn't it?"

Batman took a pair of handcuffs from his belt, and used it to cuff the woman.

"Whatever you think there is between us, Talia, I assure you: it's not love."

She laughed; her brief and elegant laugh, a sound that was so strange when coming from a person that was about to be arrested.

"You're as insane as your father was." For the first time in many years, Batman saw a disturbing resemblance between Talia and her father, the late and infamous Ra's Al Ghul.

"Perhaps", she had deep brown eyes, undeniably clever, undeniably dangerous. "Still, today he would be very disappointed."

"I never sought his approval." He grabbed her by the arm, and pushed her towards the door. "Or yours."

The glance she had for him was resentful and lacked the passion it showed just moments before.

"Who are you lying to, beloved?" The venom in her words was obvious. "There's no one here but us, and we both know how in the past we shared…"

"Whatever we may have shared…" He interrupted her in a harsh tone. "It was just lies. Nothing more than your tricks to lure me, plans within plans, the mischievous you and your father were always plotting."

"He used to call you detective…"

"And I used to call him enemy." He forced her to walk a few more steps towards the door. "I guess we were both right."

She smiled: "A good detective wouldn't make presumptions without having evidence to back it up…"

"Talia!" In a sudden burst of anger, a reaction that surprised even Batman himself, he pulled the woman by her arm, turning her around, and bringing her to stay face to face with him. "That's enough! I had enough, enough of your games, enough of your lies, enough of you! I don't want to hear anything else from you, understand?"

This seemed to have an effect on Talia, as her smiled faded completely, and she remained in silence for a few moments, watching Batman's enraged expression. Seeing how the severity in his features persisted, she glanced down, and risked a sentence:

"We have history, Bruce… I…"

"You!" His voice was a harsh sound, his teeth clenched. "Now, Talia, now you're nothing to me but a simple murderer…"

"You don't mean that!"

He pushed her a few steps back, now looking less furious, although showing a great deal of despise. "Be quiet."

"Beloved! You are making a mistake…!"

Even as Talia spoke, Batman took from his belt a small syringe; noticing that, the woman nodded his head in shocked disbelief:

"What are you doing?" Her tone betrayed signs of fear.

"A sedative." He grabbed her arm. "It will be easier to carry you…"

"Wait!"

The needle touching her skin, but without injecting the liquid, Batman raised his eyes to look at her. "Is there something you wish to tell me?"

He looked at her, the beautiful woman that now seemed to be so disturbed; once upon a time, a long time ago, she had been someone he deeply cared about. She had been an ally, a friend, even a lover. And yes, she was right about one thing: they did have history. From when he first took interest in her, a time when all seemed simpler… A time when Talia was, despite her father's crazy and criminal behavior, a person he could trust. Yes, she loved her father, and many times helped him in his insane plans; still, many times she had helped stop him, one way or the other. Somehow, Batman had always tried to believe she was – even if only deep inside – a good person.

And then… then, she changed.

"Tell me, Talia!" He used the most threatening tone he could, and pressured the needle against her skin: a small drop of blood surfaced. "I don't have time to waste! What do you have to say?"

A flash of anger crossed her eyes, but it was a brief one. She soon assumed a cold expression, and finally spoke:

"What do I have to say, beloved? It's simple enough." She sighed, and turned his look away from Batman. "The truth. I can tell you the truth."