Sorry for such a long wait. I had a lot of trouble deciding what would happen in this chapter.

I've also used all the names from the Batman Begins soundtrack for my chapter titles, so I'm going to move on to titles from The Dark Knight soundtrack :D

Disclaimer: I don't own Batman, or any other Batman-related trandmarks/whatever I used in this. I claim Evelyn, Michelle and Robert, and my other characters that have been mentioned in previous chapters.

"Something's…not right," I said after a moment of complete silence. I looked over to Bruce. "Don't you think? I mean, it's entirely way too quiet, am I right?"

"Unless he-"

"-wants us to think that he's not here," I finished for him. He cast a sideways glance at me. "What? Isn't that what the bad guys do? Pretend they're not home until the hero leaves, thinking they're really not there?" He continued to stare at me. "What? I watched a lot of action movies when I was younger. These sort of things always happen in action movies."

"Joker's not exactly one to be predictable," Bruce said. "Let's check it out." He opened the top of the Batmobile. In one swift movement he'd leapt out, landing fluidly on the asphalt. I watched him from my seat until he was practically across the street, then I too leapt out, almost tripping, and hurried after him. He was at the side door of the warehouse that opened into the alleyway. I moved to stand behind him.

"Shouldn't we try the roof?" I asked, pointing up. He ignored me as he took out his lock-picking kit. I sighed, resigning myself to surveillance, and making sure that we weren't being watched by anyone. I scanned the alley, the building's face that was opposite us, and the outside wall of the warehouse. My gaze stopped on a small, flashing red light. I blinked, cocking my head at it.

A camera?

No, wait. Not a camera.

"A bomb!" I exclaimed just as Bruce pushed the door open.

My best guess was that Joker hadn't felt it sufficient enough to have bombs planted inside the warehouse, but outside as well. I assumed that he had rigged up some sort of spring-loaded mechanism that would cause the bombs to go off when the door was opened. He must have done it on every door because he couldn't have known what one Batman would choose. That meant there were a helluva lot of bombs in that warehouse. And when the door had been pushed open, setting off one, the others quickly followed.

I think that getting blown backward once through cement and sheetrock really deters one from ever wanting to experience such a thing a second time. I sure don't want to do it again.

The only thing I really saw before flames dominated my vision was Bruce turning to, well, I don't frankly know what he intended to do. He certainly couldn't have stopped the explosion, or stopped me from going through the warehouse opposite us in the alleyway.

I blacked out for at least a minute after the explosion. It must have been after my back had broken through the cement and sheetrock, which isn't a pleasant thing to feel. I opened my eyes to darkness, and for a moment I thought that the explosion had rendered me temporarily blind. I found, however, that I was actually just facedown on the floor of the building I'd been so violently thrown in to.

My ears had popped several times over, and were now ringing, making everything sound as though I had a pair of earmuffs on. My nose was bleeding; I could taste the coppery blood as it ran down my throat from my nasal cavity. It was pooling beneath my face as well, causing part of my cheek to itch terribly.

The next thing I did-- try to move-- was a mistake. That's putting it lightly. As soon as I shifted my position beneath whatever had pinned me to the floor was like setting off an H-bomb in my chest and spinal chord. I couldn't quite cry out as my back and chest both erupted in pain, but I managed a choked little whimper. My chest burned at the mere thought of breathing deeply; I figured I had four or five broken ribs.

Just peachy I thought angrily, tears brimming in my eyes. Partially from pain, but mostly from anger. As my hearing started to clear, I was able to make out the distinct sound of sirens in the distance. That explosion must have gotten their attention I thought sourly. That means they'll be here soon, which means I shouldn't be. I took a deep breath, trying desperately to ignore the pain that reignited in my chest, and pushed myself up onto one elbow, pushing whatever debris had buried me off. I used my other arm to fling the rest of the pieces of the warehouse off of my legs.

Before I could comprehend what had happened, I was enveloped in what appeared to be a shadow of pitch blackness as Bruce came quickly to my side. He seemed completely unscathed. Then again, he did have Kevlar. What did I have? Oh, right. Absolutely nothing I thought. I figured the explosion didn't affect him much.

"So much for catching Joker," I said, then coughed, spitting blood and mucus onto the ground.

"Can you walk?" asked Bruce from above me. I shook my head. I knew that walking--or any other heavy exertion on my part-- was a bad idea when you had broken ribs, among the other various injuries I had sustained. I winced as he swept me up into his arms, but didn't give any audible intonation that my ribs felt like a wishbone that two eight years olds were jerking apart.

"I'd say that went well," I said sarcastically as he made his way through the debris, heading quickly toward the Batmobile.

"You shouldn't talk," he told me as the top to the monstrous vehicle slid back. He set me gently into the passenger's seat, as if I were a vase that would break if set down too hard on a countertop.

"Take it easy on the corners," I replied as he took his place in the driver's seat. The roof slid closed, and he brought the Batmobile to life, roaring down the street and back toward Wayne Manor.

"Six."

I almost couldn't believe what Alfred had told me; I had to repeat it. "I have six broken ribs?" He nodded, pulling off his now bloodied latex gloves. I was unconscious for most of the time that my injuries had been being treated by the gracious old butler, and what I awake to is the fact that I have six broken ribs, a fractured ulna, several puncture wounds on various parts of me, and an infinite amount of bruises.

"It's a wonder you're conscious this early, Miss Larrabee," said Alfred sincerely, drawing me from my scrambled thoughts.

"I'm a fast healer," I said, which was a lie. It takes at least a month for a bruise to completely disappear on me. And that's a small bruise. Alfred apparently didn't believe me, because he gave me a look that said 'you're-not-going-anywhere-for-a-while.' I decided it would be wise to change the subject. "Where's Bruce?" I asked.

"At Wayne Tower, miss," Alfred said. "He's talking with Lucius to see what can be done about your…tattered outfit." I frowned.

"Tattered is an understatement, isn't it?" I asked, mostly as a rhetorical question. "Wait. Lucius? As in Fox? As in the same Lucius Fox from the Tower?" Alfred nodded.

"The one and the same, Miss Larrabee," he said. I stared at him, my jaw slack. "Lucius is the one that has assisted Master Wayne in the development of his equipment."

"Surprisingly enough, that doesn't surprise me," I said after a moment. I licked my lips to moisten them and smacked them together, then pressed them into a thin line. "So Bruce went down to the Tower."

"That he did, miss," Alfred said.

"How long do you think it'd take to make me a new outfit?"

"I'm not sure."

"Do you think that it'd be done by the time I can go out again?" I smiled hopefully.

"I honestly am not sure, Miss Larrabee," Alfred replied. "You'll be bedridden for at least six weeks while your ribs heal." My hopeful smile quickly turned into a frown.

"Six. Weeks," I said slowly. I cupped both hands around my forehead, then shook my head in disbelief. "Michelle will be back before then! What am I going to tell her about my six broken ribs?" I looked up at Alfred, dropping my hands into my lap. "I can see it now. She'll get back, I'll still be bedridden. She'll come in, freak out completely and ask what happened. What do I tell her? 'Oh, Michelle, it's nothing big. I just almost died because a bomb, well, several dozen bombs went off right in front of me. But I'm fine, honest! Only six broken ribs and a fractured ulna!' She would faint! Or worse, she'd have a heart-attack! There is no way I can be bedridden when she-" My phone began to ring, and the annoying tune it played (Rick Astley's Never Gonna Give You Up) could only signify one person calling.

Michelle.

I took a deep breath and flipped my phone open.

"Eve, hi!" came Michelle's voice once I'd said hello. "You'll never guess what happened after you left the airport!"

"I can't imagine, Michelle," I said, but she barely heard me because she hadn't even paused in her talking.

"-and I ran into Robert! He was going to Ireland for a business meeting with a couple of his colleagues! I'm staying with him in his hotel room now."

"You talked to my parents, right?" I asked. I could picture Michelle nodding furiously.

"Yes ma'am. I told them that you were sick, and couldn't fly out, but you send your love," she said. I sighed in relief.

"Thanks, Michelle," I told her.

"So what've you been up to, Eve? Anything between you and Bruce?" She practically sang his name. I thought back to the explosion, and back farther to our little display of affection.

"Nothing much," I lied. I couldn't let her know that I knew who Batman was, and that I was sitting in his manor at the moment. "I've been kicking ass and taking names and trying to avoid the Dark Knight that I seem to run into a lot."

"I think, Eve," Michelle began, but never finished. "Oh! Robert's back! Gotta go!" The line went dead, and I sighed, flipping my phone closed.

"How are things with Miss Blaine?" Alfred asked. He'd stood in the same spot for the duration of my call. "And your parents?"

"They're great," I said flatly. "I just really hope I can move around before Michelle gets back."

"We could make it like your suit," Lucius offered, pulling out blueprints of Bruce's Batsuit. "With the titanium tri-weave fibers and Kevlar. Easy to move in." He pointed with his pen to the separate plates of the suit. "Unfortunately, also like your suit, the plate separation will make her more susceptible to gunfire and knives."

"Right," Bruce said. "These sorts of things can never be easy, can they?" Lucius gave a small chuckle.

"No, I suppose not, Mister Wayne," he said. "I'll start drawing up the blueprints." Bruce nodded, then turned and headed back toward the elevator.

"I get a new outfit?" I asked. Bruce nodded as he sat at the foot of my bed. "A real crime-fighting outfit?" I got another nod, and a small smile. I felt so giddy, like the kid who finds that first Easter egg during the hunt. My face went red with excitement, and I grinned.

"Lucius is working on the blueprints," Bruce informed me. "He should have them done within the week." He paused. "Alfred told me you won't be moving any time soon." I huffed out an angry breath.

"Unfortunately," I hissed, folding my arms across my chest carefully. "Well, technically I'm just not supposed to go out and fight. I can probably make my way around the manor." I gave Bruce the most sugar-coated smile I could. The type of smile that said 'You-bet-your-ass-I-won't-be-lying-in-bed-for-six-weeks.'

"If you decide to do something drastic and end up hurting yourself more," Bruce began. "you'll be stuck in bed for longer." My smile vanished.

"I know," I said, letting my hands fall into my lap. "This bites." Bruce stood, putting his hand carefully on top of mine.

"You're going to have to take it easy, Evelyn," he said. "You're lucky to even be alive." I half-expected him to kiss me, and my face flushed red again. Instead he just gave my hand a squeeze, then left, pulling the door closed behind him. I let out the breath that I'd been holding, and looked at the door. I gave a sigh, then laid back on my pillows and proceeded to stare at the ceiling.

Thanks for reading~