It's in my nature to write lots. So; I realise that there are lots of words to this. In fact, currently with all I've written, this fic consists of about 70,000 words and I haven't even finished yet. Bear with me :)

/-^l^-\ Same Week. Friday. /-^l^-\

Jonathan eyed the letter on the counter. He really had chosen a sore time for her. But he'd purposely done that, hadn't he? He still wasn't quite sure why. Sometimes he still looked at her and wanted to drive an ice pick through her but this was the woman who had him tantalised and subdued doing what he loved to do most. More than once!

Why was he not prepared to harm her though? Because it wasn't actually him who scared her? It made him curious as to whether she really would be a good recipient for the toxin, or would she just growl at it and try and fight. He suspected so. To know that he stood the chance of not being able to be one who scared her both pleased and irritated him incredibly.

He was pretty certain she was reacting to something on a completely different level to his break-in. He just had to find out what that was. He danced his fingers over her letter - in what he had come to judge as her mother's writing.

Then a shiver went down his spine. When he'd been on his knees before her two thoughts had sprung to mind. The first was that she was going to hurt him and have fun doing so, but the second was that he watched control liven her up and take over her mind. She didn't want to be controlling, she just couldn't stop her and once she did yield some control she got carried away unless warned.

But he had a feeling if he invaded her personal life, she'd do good on her intent to harm him. Speak of the devil... he thought, watching her glide in. He held his hand out with the letter, not looking at her. She took it in her hand without a thank you, not that he anticipated one, and continued.

Jonathan was mulling over her attitude when he had a sudden thought. A rather clever one.

/-^l^-\

"Excuse me, Dr. MacLeod," said a voice from the door. It was Batman. Alison raised a brow.

"Hello?" she said.

"I've been inquiring about your progress here. Apparently some of the staff aren't too friendly with you but you've stated you're not there for their benefit. But your progress with the patients has seen two releases back to prison, and major breakthroughs with The Riddler and Poison Ivy. I have an offer for you."

"An offer?"

"Have you ever considered criminal profiling?"

"Do you need a profiler?" smirked Alison, leaning against her desk.

"Sometimes. Maybe to speed things up. I wanted to know if I can recommend you to a friend, Commissioner Gordon. His name is James or Jim Gordon."

"I've seen him occasionally," nodded Alison.

"May I?"

"Can I have a baterang to frame?"

"They're not toys, Doctor."

"But you throw them around like boomerangs. You even incorporated it into the name!"

Batman felt obliged. He reached into his utility belt and handed one over. She grinned fiendishly. Even he had to then wodder, how did she actually get a job in a psychiatric asylum?

"Are you okay?" he asked, "you're looking a little thin."

"I'm absolutely fine," said Alison, "I wish people would stop asking," she frowned.

/-^l^-\ Following Weekend. Sunday. /-^l^-\

"Are you sure you're okay?" asked Bruce. This was the third time he'd asked. So the first time had been in greeting, it had been courtesy... still...

"Yes, Bruce. I am fine. And if you, in particular, ask me one more time, I think I'm about to flip."

"Me in particular?"

Alison brushed her fingers over the table, glancing over at Alfred. He'd already picked up how she was feeling. She'd called up last night. Instead of directly calling Bruce himself, she phoned the manor. Alfred had picked up. Excused Bruce, said he was out at a meeting. 'Meeting' seemed suitably ambiguous and whilst someone may just put that over their head, she wouldn't.

"I worked it out, Bruce. I worked out the first day I met you."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Stop pretending. I do know that you're Batman. And if you're not, you are most definitely something to do with him. But I did say you were so much different without a mask on. I then started to analyse the behaviour exhibited as Batman. And I made a list of a few things I would assume."

She handed him the list. He read the list.

'Will be courteous and generous. Will avoid long-term relationships. Will not be psychotic or delusional. Will act passive-aggressive in everyday life. Will have a good memory. Will deny straight away or deflect attention away from the idea.'

"Alison... I ... I don't know what to say," said Bruce.

"Start with 'Yes I am' or 'No I am not'?"

Bruce took a deep breath in and turned to her. She'd put substantial evidence against him and he was also well aware she had figured it out right back when she talked about hiding from the world with a big face.

"Yes. I am the Batman. Alison, you cannot tell a living soul!"

"What about a dead one?"

"This isn't a laughing matter!"

"Bruce, I have collected more secrets than I'd like to have; you just do in my job. Why stop now? You have my vow I won't tell anyone. Do you believe me?"

"Yes. I do..."

"Are you sure that you do?"

"Please," he pleaded, grasping her arms and glaring at her.

"Your secret is safe with me. So you can put the sedatives away," she said, glancing at Alfred.

"Right away," nodded the loyal butler. "I guess it wouldn't work anyway."

"How did you figure it out so fast?" asked Bruce. Truth be told, he knew she clicked instantly.

"I don't know. I guess because I'd met you as Bruce before I met you as Batman. Honestly, I think you are more Batman than Bruce. And your donations. They're to keep you in contact, right?" she smirked. Bruce felt somewhat ashamed, but then he realised it was his way of protecting his city. He nodded slowly. "How many people have figured it out?"

"You and one other person," he shrugged, "the other person works with me, both as Bruce Wayne and Batman."

"Maybe I will," she smiled. Of course! thought Bruce. He'd gone into billionaire playboy mode. The offer I gave her yesterday. It's okay now. You can let your guard down. She knows. She's right.

"You're considering it?" he asked, sitting down with her.

"I need something less unsatisfying to occupy my mind. I never knew I would arrive and dislike and be disliked by everyone."

"They're a funny lot at Arkham," said Bruce, shaking his head. You're telling me... thought Alison.

"I expect to see you a lot more. You ought to drop by my office when you're about," she said curtly. Bruce split into a grin.

"Oh, are you really going to frame the baterang?" he quizzed.

"I already have. It's in my office."

"Well, now I have an excuse to come by. You promise me you won't say?"

"Bruce. I don't really have anyone to say to. But even if I did, I wouldn't. I can see that it's important to you; and for that very reason I will, conversely, do my best to make sure no one EVER finds out. Promise," she smiled, surprisingly kissing his cheek.

It meant a lot, because Alison wasn't an ultra affectionate person.