A/N: DRUM ROLL PLEASE! (DRUMS LOUDLY ON TABLE TOP FINISHING WITH A BIG BANG!) IT IS HERE! THE FIRST CHAPTER OF THE DARK KNIGHT RISES PORTION! WOHOO! (DOES DRUNK GIRAFFE AROUND HOME) First, a few things. I'd like to thank jaguarspot for editing this chapter and being such a great fan. Same goes for all of you, for sticking with my story! You have no idea how much this means to me. Also, I'd like to announce the result of the most recent poll and I'll say one thing; you guys really want Jenna to end up with John Blake. I'm serious, the poll count is like 1 no and 11 yeses. I've never gotten such a response on a poll before. There's also a new character in this chapter, portrayed by Britt Robertson, and like with Helena Bertinelli, she's not my OC, but a character from the comics, who, like Jenna and Helena, will become a vigilante in this part of the story. And yes, you read that correctly, JENNA IS BECOMING BATGIRL IN "THE DARK KNIGHT RISES"! Anyway, please enjoy, review, and I'll have the next chapter out ASAP.

The Beginning of the End

"Harvey Dent day may not be our oldest public holiday, but we're here tonight because it's one of our most important," Mayor Garcia spoke passionately to the party gathered at Wayne Manor. "Harvey Dent's uncompromising stand against organized crime and, yes, ultimately, his sacrifice, has made Gotham a safer place than it was at the time of his death eight years ago. This city has seen a historic turnaround. No city is without crime, but this city is without organized crime because the Dent Act gave law enforcement teeth in its fight against the Mob. Now people are talking about repealing the Dent Act. And to them I say… not on my watch." The crowd applauded.

"I want to thank the Wayne Foundation for hosting this event. I'm told Mr. Wayne couldn't be here tonight, but I'm sure he's with us in spirit." No one noticed the figure watching the celebration from the darkened balcony above. "Now I'm going to give way to an important voice. He can tell you about the bad old days, when the criminals and the corrupt ran this town with such a tight grasp that the people put their faith in a murderous thug in a mask and a cape. A thug who showed his true nature when he betrayed the trust of this great man," the Mayor said, turning to the portrait of Harvey Dent behind him. "And murdered him in cold blood. Well, I'll let him tell you himself. Commissioner Gordon." The people clapped yet again, and Jim Gordon made his way up to the podium, written speech in hand.

"The truth? I have written a speech telling the truth about Harvey Dent." Jim Gordon looked up from his papers and locked eyes with a twenty-four year old brunette, in a long sleeved black dress. She shook her head, her eyes saying, No. Not yet. Someday, maybe… but not today. Gordon nodded and put the speech back into his jacket pocket. "But maybe the time isn't right. Maybe now all you need to know is that there are 100 inmates in Blackgate Prison as a direct result of the Dent Act. These are violent criminals, essential cogs in the organized-crime machine. Maybe, for now, all I should say about the death of Harvey Dent is this: it has not been for nothing." The audience clapped, some a little confused, and Gordon made his way from the podium to twenty-four year old Jenna Dawes, who stood to the side, a grim smile on her face and a champagne glass in hand.

"That was some speech," Jenna said, taking another gulp of her drink. Jim noticed that it was her third glass and raised an eyebrow.

"Drinking a bit much aren't we Jenna?"

"Lying a bit much aren't we Jim?" Jenna shot back. She emptied her glass before she looked at it disgustedly and put it on a passing waiter's tray. "I'm sorry Jim. It just never gets any easier." Jim nodded in understanding before he looked at Harvey's picture on the podium and sighed.

"Do you really think the truth is ever going to come out?"

"There are three things that cannot be hidden forever, Jim: the sun, the moon, and the truth. Whether it's in ten years or ten thousand years, the truth will come out. I just hope the city will be ready for it when it does."

"When did you get so smart?"

"Around the time I graduated law school."

"Sorry. I keep forgetting you're all grown up, Miss Assistant District Attorney." Jenna smiled and chuckled.

"Sometimes it's hard to believe myself. How are Barb and the kids?"

"They're alright. They miss you and they're talking about visiting soon."

"I'm sorry I haven't been able to talk. I've been busy."

"Busy?"

"You know, doing printer runs, making phone calls, picking up coffee, the eventful life of an assistant DA," Jenna said with a straight face. They looked at each other for a bit before they both burst out laughing. "Seriously, I don't understand how Rachel was so patient, I want a case or I might just explode."

"Well, would you rather be bored and have Gotham be safer and cleaner than it's been in decades or have Gotham go back to the filthy scum sucking bottom it was at eight years ago?"

"Oh I'd rather have Gotham go back to the corrupt, chaotic circus it was when I was fifteen any day." Jim shot her a look. "Kidding." They were silent for a moment, before the silence was broken by Jim.

"How's Danny, by the way?"

"She's fine. She found a nice place in New York with her girlfriend. I think I'll be expecting a wedding invitation sometime soon." Jenna faltered. "Things haven't been the same though."

"They never are."

"How do you get though times like these?"

"The same way you do I suppose. Remember the good." Jenna nodded. The duo went their separate ways, Gordon to mingle with other officers and politicians, and Jenna to find the few friends she had at these types of parties. Soon enough, she found Helena Bertinelli and blonde-haired, blue-eyed Bette Kane, standing next to the punch bowl.

"So, how's the Commish?" Bette asked.

"He's fine. Well, as fine as he can be on the anniversaries of one of the worst nights of his life."

"I'm guessing the same goes for you?"

"Pretty much. And the fact that I have to spend it surrounded by a school of sorority sharks and political predators doesn't exactly help either."

"Speaking of which, look who's coming over." Helena nodded over to a familiar redhead who was on a collision course with them.

"Well, well, well, look what we have here. The Angel of Gotham, drowning her memories in champagne," a twenty-five year old Christy Collins taunted her former classmate. Jenna forced a smile.

"Hi Christy. Nice to know you could come. I see you're here with husband number… what was it again? Five? Six?"

"Four, actually." Jenna smiled and glanced over her enemy's shoulder to see Christy's fourth husband looking at a waitress in an area far lower than he should be.

"Ah, well, you might wanna start looking for husband number five then, considering the way he's looking at the waitresses." Christy swiveled on the spot and her face became almost as red as her hair.

"Will you excuse me for a moment?" She stomped off, her high heels clicking as she went, and Bette, Helena, and Jenna glanced at each other and laughed.

"Well, she hasn't exactly changed since high school," Helena commented.

"What would you expect out of Veronica Vreeland's daughter? Besides, it's actually sort of amusing."

"I suppose so." The three friends observed the party in silence, Jenna taking another drink, this time non-alcoholic.

"So have you heard the rumors?" Bette asked Jenna.

"There's a lot of rumors in Gotham Bette. Which ones?"

"The ones about Garcia firing Gordon soon." Jenna froze. "Jenna?"

"Someone find me Garcia and a hammer, because I think I need to knock some sense into him."

"Jenna–"

"After everything he's done and lost for this city, Garcia thinks he can just kick him to the curb? Not if I have anything to say about it."

"Jenna, you could lose your job," Helena pointed out.

"I don't care."

"You should. Gotham needs people like you who won't sit back even when it seems like the storm's over. Or would you rather leave Gotham to those who have stopped truly caring." Jenna stopped.

"I guess you're right. But I still will be having a firm chat with him."

"Agreed. Well, it's getting late and I'm pretty tired. I'll see you guys later?" Helena said.

"Sure. I think I'll head out too. Hope you don't mind," Bette inquired.

"No it's fine. I'll go find Miranda." The trio said their goodbyes and parted. Jenna made her way up to the Manor and climbed up to one of the higher levels to find Alfred.

"Hey Alfred. Have you seen Miranda Tate anywhere?"

"Actually I was searching for her myself."

"She asked about Bruce again?"

"Yes."

"And he's still a stubborn idiot?"

"Yes."

"Well, I think I see her over there. Better go tell her." The two of them made their way over to a beautiful woman in her thirties, known by Gotham's Upper Class as Miranda Tate. "Hi Miranda," Jenna greeted her friend. Miranda Tate was one of the few members of Gotham's High Society who actually seemed to care about things other than hundred dollar high heels, thousand dollar dresses, and cars that cost as much as a house. Like Jenna, Miranda was different from the wealthiest Gothamites, and as a result, the two tended to stick together during parties of this type.

"Hello Jenna, Alfred. I'm assuming the answer is the same as always?" Miranda assumed. Jenna and Alfred nodded sadly.

"I'm sorry Miss Tate, but I've tried. He won't see you," Alfred told her.

"Don't take it personally Miranda," called an arrogant voice from behind them. The trio turned to see John Daggett. "Everyone knows Wayne's holed up in there with eight inch nails, peeing into mason jars." Jenna clutched her flute, wondering if Daggett knew how quickly and easily she could break every single bone in his body and still make it look like an accident. Daggett turned to Alfred. "Good of you to let me on the grounds."

"The Dent Act is all about Gotham. Even you, Mr. Daggett. Miss Tate, always a pleasure," Alfred said and left.

"Why waste your time trying to talk to the man who threw away your investment on some save-the-world vanity project? He can't help you get your money back. But I can," Daggett informed her.

"I could try explaining that a save the world project, vain or not, is worth investing in, whatever the return. I could try, Mr. Daggett, but you understand only money and the power you think it buys, so why waste my time, indeed?" Miranda smiled. She then turned on her heel and walked away.

Miranda: 1, Daggett: 0, Jenna smiled to herself. Daggett watched Miranda walk away and once she was out of sight, her turned Jenna and looked her over.

"Now, Miss Dawes, what would you say to –"

"Try anything with me Daggett and I will personally make sure you can never try anything with anyone ever again," Jenna cut him off, before walking after Miranda. This, unfortunately, had become the norm for Jenna; ever since she'd turned eighteen, men had been practically hounding her, mostly due to the fact that Jenna was young, rich, and reasonably attractive. It took every ounce of Jenna's carefully practiced self-control to keep herself from completely crippling every man who so much as looked at her in a lecherous way.

"I seriously wonder how Alfred takes insults from men like Daggett with a smile on his face," Jenna told Miranda.

"I don't know. You seem to do a fairly good job of keeping a false smile for the cameras."

"Tell that to my glass. I'm pretty sure I almost snapped the poor thing in half." Miranda chuckled and Jenna sighed. "I'm sorry I can't do more about Bruce."

"It's not your fault. I'm sure he'll come out eventually." Jenna just grimaced and looked at the ceiling.

"We'll see." The party eventually died down and the guests left. Alfred and Jenna then wandered upstairs to find Bruce examining the safe.

"Miss Tate was asking to see you again," Alfred informed him.

"She's very persistent," Bruce commented.

"And quite lovely, in case you were wondering."

"I wasn't."

"What are you doing?"

"Examining print dust. We've been robbed."

"And this is your idea of, uh, sounding the alarm, is it?"

"She took the pearls, tracking device and all."

"She?"

"One of the maids. Perhaps you should stop letting them in this side of the house."

"Perhaps you should start learning to make your own bed." Bruce stood and walked out of the room. "Why were you dusting for prints?"

"I wasn't. She was." Jenna raised an eyebrow.

"Well, Alfred, Bruce, I think I'm going to bed. I drank a bit much and I'm probably going to pass out soon, so might as well pass out in a bed."

"You shouldn't drink so much," Bruce told her.

"You should get some fresh air," Jenna snapped right back. She turned on her heel and headed for her room. She changed into her pajamas but was unable to sleep. She could never sleep on Harvey Dent Day. Her mind was always so full: full of Rachel's dying words, the Joker's laughs, Harvey's shouts of fairness and chance, the clicks of guns and switchblades. These things occasionally infected her mind, but were even more persistent on days like Harvey Dent Day and the anniversaries of the Fright Night and the Joker's death. She spent the next few hours pacing her room, looking at the pictures and videos of her friends and family, flipping through Angel's sketchpad, listening and dancing to music Danny had composed, things that helped as much as they hurt. She was snapped out of her reverie by the sound of her phone ringing. She looked at the ID. Jim. She answered.

"Jennifer Dawes speaking."

"No need to sound so formal Jenna," Jim Gordon said.

"Sorry. Force of habit, blame it on working in the DA's office all day. So, care to explain interrupting my sleep?"

"Jenna, I know fully well you never sleep well on nights like tonight."

"Still, why the call?"

"… I think we've got someone who suspects." Jenna frowned.

"Suspects what?"

"That not everything that happened that night has been said."

"Everyone suspects that Jim. The fact you were so hesitant about your speech didn't exactly help matters."

"Sorry for trying to have a conscious."

"And you think I don't." Silence.

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine. So, who is this investigator and how much do you think they know?"

"Kid's name is Blake. He doesn't have any really proof as far as I'm aware but he has a suspicion and gut that tells him when something's off. Reminds me of you actually." Jenna chuckled slightly. "… I think he may also know who the Batman is." Jenna froze.

"Did he say who–"

"No. He just asked me if I wanted to know who he is." Jenna sighed with relief. "Do you actually know who he is?"

"Jim, you know I don't," Jenna lied, ignoring the squirming in her stomach due to the fact she was lying to one of her closest family members.

"… I know you probably do. But you don't have to tell me. I don't want to know. Not yet at least." Jenna sighed through her nose and nodded.

"Ok. So, rookie named Blake. I'll keep an eye on him."

"I'm sure you will," Gordon said, his tone implying she would be watching him for reasons other than espionage.

"Gordon, no. Just, no. I'm not looking for a relationship, I never have, and I don't see that changing in the near future."

"You never know."

"Goodnight Gordon." And with that, Jenna hung up.