"You sure you don't want a taste of this, Gordon?"

Toby Fleiss waved a wad of money under Sgt. James Gordon's nose, who involuntarily pressed his head into his car seat, raising a hand to decline the greasy notes.

"Ducard?" Fleiss directed his question to the woman in the backseat of the car, who shifted from the middle seat to the seat behind Toby, glancing at Gordon from the corner of her eye.

"Bite me, Fleiss," Rosa Ducard responded succinctly.

The fat man let out a low chuckle. "With pleasure, Ducard." He took a large chomp out of his hot dog to demonstrate, and Rosa rolled her eyes.

"You know, you two, the rest of us get a little nervous when you don't want to grab a part of the take," Fleiss continued. "When you won't play with the rest of us," he grinned, turning around slightly to look at Rosa.

"I didn't join the police force to 'play,' Fleiss. Unlike most of you, I actually want…"

"We're no rats, Fleiss," Gordon cut in, placing a hand on Rosa's shoulder. "In a town this messed up, who's there to rat to, anyway?"

The tension was gone with that statement, and Fleiss laughed, spraying hot dog crumbs over the steering wheel. "That's true," he said, "that's very true." He pressed the gas pedal suddenly, and the car screeched from the front of the convenience store and began to make its way toward The Narrows's police station. He braked just as abruptly in front of the station, waiting as Jim Gordon opened the car door to get out. As his foot went toward the gas pedal again, Fleiss heard the unmistakable click of an automatic weapon near his ear.

"Very funny, Fleiss, but I'm getting out too," Rosa put the safety back on her gun as she slid over to the far side of the car seat, then got out and stood beside Sgt. Gordon, one hip cocked, staring fiercely at the fat man who was now stuffing the pilfered bills into his pockets.

Rosa turned away, disgusted, and stalked up the steps, opening the door and waiting to hear it shut behind her with a satisfying slam. It didn't, of course, as Gordon caught the door on his way in and shut it softly. "Rosa…"

"I know, I know. Don't irritate the cops who're just rotting from the inside. Don't rattle the cages." Rosa sighed heavily as she turned around to face the man who had been like a father to her for the past seven years.

"It's more than that, Rosa, and you know it. If you decide to get too testy, someone's going to notice. They think you're dead," he added in an undertone. "Any overly-different behavior, and they'll take you back. We've been over this a hundred times, Rosa." Jim ran his hand through his thinning hair, then took Rosa's arm.

"I think you should go home," he said as the made their way up to Gordon's office. "Another night of staying 'till morning and you won't have enough energy to talk back to Fleiss, and really, that's the main highlight of my day."

"All right, fine, Jim, you win… but just – try to work on the Falcone case, will you? I know I can do something, if I keep working at it, maybe another brain on the case will help?"

Gordon sighed. "You've got to let it go, you know. He's not going to be brought down on our steam, at least not until we get someone influential on the right side…"

"Someone like Superman? Yeah, that would work…. If you see anybody flying around, Jim, let me know, okay?"

"Rosa, you've got to relax. Go home, take a hot bath, read a good book…" seeing her expression, Gordon added, "… and I'll stay here for a bit, okay? I'll just… look over our files on your father—" Gordon slapped himself mentally as a Rosa's rage rushed over him.

"That man is not my father, Jim. Not past impregnating my mother, he's got no claim over me. You should know that better than anyone!" Rosa's voice was raised into a shout, and Gordon placed his hands on her shoulders.

"Hey. Hey, it's okay. I slipped up. Hard to believe, but it happens sometimes, right? Hey, come here."

Rosa reluctantly let herself be brought into an awkward hug, and she relaxed slightly, patting Jim's back with one hand. "What your - - Carmine Falcone does is not your fault, Rosie. All right?" Gordon pulled back to look into Rosa's face, and placed his hand under her chin. "Okay?"

"Okay," Rosa gave Jim a half-smile, then sniffed loudly and rubbed her hand under her nose.

"Such a lady," Jim chuckled, then took a seat behind his desk. grabbing the topmost manila folder from a pile on top of a filing cabinet.

Rosa watched him carefully, sitting on the corner of his desk, then leant down to kiss him softly on the top of his head. "Thanks, Jim," she smiled genuinely for the first time that night. "And hey, I might even take your advice. Grab a romance novel, hop in the tub…."

"A romance novel?" Jim suppressed a grimace. "More like 'The Life and Times of Marie Curie,' or something else that's intelligent."

"There's always your Superman comics," Rosa said.

"Those are vintage. You touch those, and I'll have to kill you, and then there's only one honest cop left in Gotham. Do you really want to be responsible for that, Rosa? Now get out of here before I decide to put you in solitary to keep you from working."

"All right, all right, I'm going," Rosa quipped, snapping Jim with her coat on her way out.

A few minutes later, Gordon smiled as he looked out the window, watching Rosa cross the street, walking toward the condominiums across the alley from the station. "And they think I'm a nut for being committed to the job," he muttered to himself, making sure Rosa made it safely through the front door.

As he reassured himself of her safety, Sergeant James Gordon heard a click behind him, and something hard was suddenly pressed to the back of his neck.

ooooo

Rosa waved good-bye to her next-door neighbor, an elderly lady who often made a hot dinner for her, after helping the older woman collect her bulky groceries and lifting the heavier ones onto her kitchen counter. She then entered her small apartment with a sigh, shutting the door behind her and engaging all six of the locks. When she turned twenty-three, and became a part of the Gotham police force, Jim had offered her a continuing place in the home where he lived – with his sister and her young children. It wasn't a burden at all for Rosa to be there, he insisted, in fact, his sister Ashley frequently made use of Rosa as a babysitter to her three children – two rambunctious, ever-energetic boys and one quiet girl. But he understood when Rosa said she wanted her own place; even Jim would have liked to have that luxury once in a while. But the house that he and Ashley jointly owned was in a better part of the Narrows : near the bridge that connected it with the island that was the wealthy part of Gotham. Rosa's apartment building, although it was convenient for her work, was placed in a much seedier area. The fact didn't bother Rosa, though. After all, she had grown up in the worst part of the Narrows, and her apartment seemed to her to be one of the friendliest places she had ever been, barring her short visits to Wayne Manor as a child.

She didn't mind the relative danger she lived in – Jim had enrolled her in safety defense classes, paid for by the Gotham police for its women officers, of which there were very few. There, Rosa learned the basics of fending off an attacker. But all it took was for someone to recognize her, Rosa would tell herself, imagining two men, much like the ones who stood at the front of Carmine's, dragging her off down an alley or shoving her into a car. Every time she envisioned this, Rosa applied herself with new vigor to learning all sorts of self-defense and get-away techniques. Jim taught her to be silent and stealthy, not only for coming up behind criminals, but for her everyday life. After four years of practice, Rosa considered herself somewhat of an expert when it came to defending herself, or others.

Shaking herself from the unpleasant thoughts, Rosa looked around her home with fondness – the entrance gave way immediately onto a small kitchen on the left; further on, a sofa and two matching chairs were gathered in a circle, a desk covered with paperwork standing near the window that looked out onto the police station. A short hallway led to a small bedroom on the right; the end of the hallway held a sink and cupboards for toiletries, and there was a bathroom on the left. Therein lay the only luxury Rosa allowed herself – an old, claw-footed tub which Jim had installed for her, large enough for her tall frame to spread out in without being cramped. A column of a shower and a cranky toilet finished her bathroom. Her apartment as a whole was Spartan – Rosa didn't go in for comfort articles, just things that were practical. She supposed this had come from her distaste of the decadent lifestyle that her father had led.

Turning the hot water tap so that there was a comforting rush of water into the tub, Rosa went across the hall into her bedroom and lovingly hung up her police uniform next to her two spares. She picked off a speck of flint from the jacket, letting it fall to the floor. She placed her black shoes on their shoe trees, and slid her feet into some slippers, wrapping herself in a terry-cloth robe that was a hand-me-down from Ashley.

The tub was full now, and Rosa slipped out of her slippers and robe and slid into the tub with a contented sigh. She breathed in deeply, the steam from the hot water feeling her lungs and nose. Leaning her head back on the bathtub's rim, Rosa closed her eyes and allowed her mind to drift away from itself…

But she was pulled out of her reverie by a loud crash that seemed to shake her whole apartment. Immediately wary, Rosa sat up in the tub and glanced toward the bathroom door, cursing herself because she had forgotten to lock it. After all, she thought briefly, you'd think that six locks would keep intruders out. Well, she amended, sane intruders, who would know that crashing through windows isn't the best way to break and enter. She smiled wryly. It was just bad luck that this particular dumbo had decided to break into her home – she, who was excellent in defense, a fully trained policewoman, and not to bad at aiming a gun, either.

Rosa drew her robe around her and tied it tightly, her wet hair falling around her shoulders, and slowly made her way to the bathroom door, careful to not make any noise. She could hear the intruder bumbling around on the floor, and heard a deep voice saying a few choice swear words. Male, she mentally noted, probably injured. She cracked the door open and stared out down the hallway – she was right. The man was holding his left arm and kneeling on the floor, his mouth showing through his ski mask in a tight line.

She crept across the hallway into her bedroom and quietly slipped a gun out of her holster, then, on a second thought, grabbed a pair of handcuffs as well. The next part, she smiled to herself, was easy.

"Freeze!" Rosa shouted, jumping out into the hallway and aiming her gun straight at one of the man's legs. Shoot to injure, not to kill, she reminded herself. "Freeze, or I shoot!"

The man on the floor groaned, and mumbled, "Of all the luck…"

"Right. Of all the luck, you decided to crash into my apartment. Good job, you found me. I assume you know that smashing a window to let yourself into a private dwelling is officially classified as breaking and entering?" Rosa began edging toward the man, whose hands were now behind his head.

"That's right, bud, and keep 'em there." As she neared, Rosa noticed the man's torso was garbed in something that looked like a bullet-proof vest, but for the fact that if covered his arms. His thighs and shins seemed to be covered in the same material too, and Rosa inwardly groaned. A smart-dumb criminal. She looked out the window, from her fifth floor apartment, and gazed dazedly at the roof of the police station, where she thought she recognized Jim looking back her way.

"It's okay, I've got him!" she shouted, keeping her gun trained on the man in black.

"Look, I'm not going to hurt you," he began.

"Damn straight you're not," Rosa snapped. "Finally, the Gotham police can catch someone. And you're not going to be let free, there's nobody to bribe, goad, or 'persuade' here."

"You're honest? But the Sergeant said…"

Rosa's eyes widened. "Sergeant? As in Sergeant Jim Gordon? Hey, who the hell are you anyway?!"

"Yes, Sergeant Jim Gordon. I had a few questions to ask him."

"Such as…?"

"How this city can finally take down Carmine Falcone."

"What?!" Rosa meant it to come out as a shout, but her exclamation came out hoarse.

The man turned to face her, and Rosa could see dark eyes shining through the holes in his mask. "I said, I asked him what we need to do to finally take down Carmine Falcone." He spoke slowly, his voice gruff, and slowly lowered his hands from his head.

"We?"

"I take it you're Gotham police force?"

"Clever boy," Rosa said sarcastically.

"Thanks," he answered in the same tone. "Do you think you could possibly put your gun down now?"

"Right, because I'm really that stupid," Rosa hissed.

"Rosa! Rosa!" There was pounding at the door, and Rosa recognized the voice of Jim Gordon. "All six locks again?"

"One can never be too careful!" Rosa yelled back, looking pointedly at the man in black. She thought she detected the corners of his lips turn up, but he put his head down too quickly for her to be sure.

"Let him go, Rosa, he's…" Jim Gordon searched for a word. "We're…" again, his trail of thought failed him. "I'm going to trust him."

"Gordon, are you crazy? The man just jumped through my window!"

"I can pay for that to get fixed, sorry…" the man mumbled.

"You can shove your money up your…"

"ROSA! I'm serious, now. Let him go. He was… he…." There was pounding on the door again. "Rosa, goddamnit, I just saw a man fly through the air, and you're holding him hostage!"

"Fly through the…?" Rosa dropped her gun in surprise, turning to face her door, and in a flash, the man was up from the floor and had jumped out the window – down five flights. Rosa rushed up to the broken glass, and gasped as he landed on the ground, paused for a moment, and then began to run.

"Rosa! Open this door before I shoot it down!" Gordon shouted urgently. In a minute, he was face to face with a soaking wet Rosa, whose mouth was hanging open in wonder.

"Jim… I think we found our Superman."