A Few hours later…

Barbara Gordon groaned as she started to wake up, her head pounding as she brought her hand up to the back of her head, brushing her hair aside before rubbing the injured area. Feeling her mask was still on, she took it as a good sign that nobody had discovered her identity, especially after getting knocked in the head in that alleyway…

Then her eyes snapped open as she realized she wasn't lying in the middle of an alley, but on some sheets.

Her upper body snapped up, only to find herself staring at a small mirror on the far end of the room. Before she could register that she was in a room, she brought her hands to her head when the pounding sensation returned through her brain, groaning as she realized she would have a headache for quite a while.

"I suggest you grab the ice pack on the nightstand, petite batte." A voice told her, and she immediately scanned the room, her gaze coming to rest on a seated figure in the corner.

Seeing the yellow eyes, the greenish-tinted skin and the tail resting on the ground, she cleverly concealed the shock she had at her captor's transformation. The last time she saw him, he was far more…human.

"Killer Croc…" she growled, balling her hands into fists before another headache went through her head. Shaking it away, she asked "So why did you kidnap me?"

Giving a chuckle, Croc retorted "Ah, far from it, Bat. If it weren't for me you'd be in quite a bit of trouble in that alleyway, with a group of cochons trying to kill you amongst other possible despicable things they could've done to your unconscious body."

Giving another nod at the nightstand, he added, "I seriously suggest you grab that icepack."

Reluctantly she complied, feeling some relief come to her head as she applied the cold item to herself. Starting to open her mouth to voice her first question, he beat her to the punch.

"If you wondering whether or not I know your identity, I can tell you I did not take off the mask. All of us have some secrets we would rather not leave uncovered."

Taking a few moments to enjoy the relief from both the icepack and from not having been identified as the daughter of the Police Commissioner, she questioned him. "Why did you do it then? I'm certainly not the first person you would want to be associated with."

Getting out of his seat, the criminal took a few steps forward, into the moonlight streaming through the large window that had been left open.

"You are very observant, donzelle, then again, if you were not, then you wouldn't be a part of the Batman's team, would you?" he countered, letting a toothy smile grace his face. Turning to gaze at the window, he finally said "Even us criminals have a sense of honor. A sick and twisted one to you, but there is one nonetheless. And I at least have the courtesy of killing someone so they're awake to see me do it. Putting a bullet through your head while you were down certainly did not seem fair to me, especially considering your presumably long list of accomplishments with the Batman."

Starting to get confused, she responded. "That can't be all there is to you doing that, though. Why did you save me instead of finishing me off on the street? If what you say is true, you could have just as easily beat me awake before killing me."

Turning to rest a hand against the dresser under the mirror, he avoided her gaze as he finally answered her. "I may be a freak, a monster to this city, but I am far from stupid. I recognize that this city needs not just villains, but heroes as well. Without the other they bring a place to ruin and disrupt the balance of life. Too many criminals and nobody would live here. Too many heroes and it would become a dull utopia. For Gotham City to maintain the persona it has held for centuries, it must walk that fine line that allows the criminal and the good to bring this place into balance. When one gets to powerful, the other brings them back into line. Even I recognize the importance of that. If Batman and his team were not around, how long do you think this place would last if the Joker had his way?"

The statement itself caused Batgirl to feel a shiver go down her spine while Croc went silent.

Looking at him, she said sharply "That was a surprising amount of wisdom considering you're a career criminal."

Turning to look at her, he shot back "And that was a surprising amount of stupidity to take on over a dozen armed men at once and expect to come out on top."

That made her fall silent, and he threw in darkly "One thing you should do well to remember is to never underestimate your opponent. One slip up and you could be dead. If I hadn't happened to be walking down that alley you could have very well died out there."

Turning back to set his clawed hands on the dresser, he stared at his visage in the mirror, before growling out "I do believe you have outstayed your welcome, Batgirl. The window is right there."

Hearing her get off the bed, he certainly wasn't expecting her to put a hand on his shoulder.

"Then I should at least say thank you, Waylon."

Refusing to even turn to look at her, he continued to stare at himself in the mirror, his clawed hands digging into the dresser.

"Maybe the criminal world isn't as heartless as Batman makes it out to be."

Before he could respond to her that he certainly did not have a heart, she was gone, the only sign of her departure the curtains shifting about from being touched on the way out the window.

Shaking his head, he muttered to himself "You're going insane, Croc, an insane fool at the rate you're going."

Shutting the window, he retired for the night, deciding it would be best to completely forget the events of tonight. He couldn't afford to look soft to his peers if they found out he helped one of the Bat's.

The last thing that went through his mind was his respect for her tenacity. 'At least she had the balls to take on thirteen of those cochons and go down fighting…'.