A/N: Sorry it took so long to get this chapter out, I've had limited computer time as of late. Hopefully that will change in the near future. Jenna's party dress and mask are on my profile. Anyway, please review and enjoy!

A Storm Is Coming

The next morning, Alfred walked into Bruce Wayne's bedroom, his breakfast on a tray, to find the bed empty and made. Searching the manor, he called out "Master Wayne? Master Wayne?"

"Can't find him?" a voice asked behind Alfred, who jumped two feet in the air at the sound of Jenna's voice.

"You shouldn't scare people like that Jenna," Alfred advised, breathing heavily. "God knows my heart can't take much more of this, I am getting on in years."

"Don't you dare think of leaving Alfred, not until we can at least get Bruce out of this house," Jenna ordered.

"In that case, I'll live to be two-hundred."

"And that's a bad thing why exactly?" Alfred smiled. "Well, if he's not in the house, there's only one place he can be." The two of them made their way over to the study, Jenna picked up a file on the desk, Alfred played the cords on the ear-piercingly out of tune piano, and the hidden door in the bookcase opened. Alfred and Jenna walked through and stepped into the elevator and within moments they were down in the catacombs, to find Bruce Wayne working at the computer.

"You haven't been down here in a long time," Alfred commented, as he and Jenna made their way over.

"Trying to find out more about our jewel thief," Bruce explained. "I ran her prints. Unless she's lost a lot of weight," the mug shot of an older, obese male criminal came up. "She was wearing someone else's fingerprints. She's good," Bruce admitted.

"She may be, but we have a trace on the necklace."

"We do. I cross-referenced the address she went back to with police data on high-end B-and-E's and, um, Selina Kyle." The mug shot of an attractive brunette woman in her early thirties popped onscreen. "The databases are full of close calls, tips from fences. She's good, but the ground is shrinking beneath her feet."

"We should send the police before she fences the pearls," Alfred suggested.

"She won't. She likes them too much. And they weren't what she was after."

"What was she after?"

"My fingerprints. It was printer toner mixed with graphite on the safe. It gives a good pull and it's untraceable."

"Fascinating. You two should exchange notes over coffee."

"So now you're trying to set me up with a jewel thief?" Bruce inquired.

"At this point, I'd set you up with a chimpanzee if it brought you back to the world!" "There's nothing out there for me," Bruce argued.

"And that's the problem. You hung up your cape and your cowl, but you didn't move on, you never went to find a life, to find someone..."
"Alfred... I did find someone." Jenna gut wrenched from the mention of her aunt, however indirectly it was.
"I know, and you lost her. But that's all part of living, sir. But you're not living. You're just waiting, hoping for things to go bad again. Remember when you left Gotham? Before all this, before Batman? You were gone seven years. Seven years I waited, hoping that you wouldn't come back." Jenna and Bruce turned to look at Alfred, confused. "Every year, I took a holiday. I went to Florence, there's this cafe, on the banks of the Arno. Every fine evening, I'd sit there and order a Fernet Branca. I had this fantasy, that I would look across the tables and I'd see you there, with a wife and maybe a couple of kids. You wouldn't say anything to me, nor me to you. But we'd both know that you'd made it, that you were happy. I never wanted you to come back to Gotham. I always knew there was nothing here for you, except pain and tragedy. And I wanted something more for you than that." Alfred headed back toward the lift before turning back and saying, "I still do." Bruce said nothing, but turned back to the computer. Jenna made her way over to him tentatively, opening the folder Fox had given her.

"There are a lot of new scientists Wayne Enterprises is considering hiring. You wanna take a look at their work?" Bruce was silent. Jenna continued undeterred. "Let's see. There's Mr. Fries and his work with cryogenics; Jervis Tetch, the neurologist; Garfield Lynns's work with pyrotechnics; or, here's one that should get your attention, Dr. Kirkland Langstorm's studies of bats." He was still silent. "Bruce, seriously, it's been eight years. And while no one is ever going to replace Rachel, she wouldn't want you to waste you life like this."

"Jenna, even if I did get back out there, I doubt people would welcome me back with open arms."

"I don't know, they seemed to do exactly that the last time you left." Bruce rolled his eyes at her and returned to his research. Jenna huffed in frustration and slammed the folder she was holding on the keyboard next to him. "Fine, you wanna waste the rest of you life in here knock yourself out. But know that you're not the only person that this affects." She turned on her heel and made her way over to Alfred, who had been observing them from the shadows. "Alfred, have you ever heard of a billionaire being kicked out of his own manor by his butler and adopted daughter, because I'm seriously considering doing that," Jenna said.

"Unfortunately, even if we could lock Master Wayne out of the house, I'm sure he would break back into the house and then lock us out simply for trying." Jenna sighed and the duo headed toward the lift.

At this point, it'll take nothing short of a miracle to get Bruce out of this house, Jenna thought as the lift closed behind her and Alfred.

That miracle came a few days later in the form of John Blake knocking at the door of Wayne Manor. Jenna was heading for the DA's office when she heard a knock at the door. Alfred looked at Jenna questioningly before he opened the door.

"I need to see Bruce Wayne," Blake said.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Wayne doesn't take unscheduled calls. Even from a police officer," Alfred replied.

"And if I get a warrant, investigating the murder of Harvey Dent? Does that still count as unscheduled?" Alfred and Jenna both froze. Alfred turned back to Jenna, who nodded hesitantly, before she headed off to find Bruce eating breakfast and reading the paper in his room.

"There's a cop here to see you."

"You know I don't take calls from anyone," Bruce replied, not even bothering to look up.

"He knows about you and your little friend who's been missing for eight years." Bruce looked over the top of his paper, before putting it down, grabbing his cane, and going to see John Blake, Jenna right at his heels.

"What can I do for you, officer?" Bruce asked.

"Commissioner Gordon's been shot," Blake informed them. Jenna froze. Not Gordon, not Gordon, anyone but Gordon, please.

"Is he ok?" Jenna burst out before Bruce could interrupt.

"He's alive, but he's in rough shape and in the hospital," Blake explained. Jenna sighed in relief.

"What happened exactly?" she inquired. Gordon hadn't been in that kind of danger since the Joker's last terrorization of Gotham.

"He chased a gunman down into the sewers. When I pulled him out, he was babbling about an underground army. A masked man called Bane."

"Shouldn't you be telling your superior officers?" Bruce asked.

"They asked me if he saw any giant alligators." Jenna frowned. Foley was getting careless if he thought this was nothing. "He needs you. He needs the Batman."

"If Commissioner Gordon thinks–"

"Oh, he doesn't know or care who you are. But we've met before. It was a long time ago. I was a kid. Uh, St. Swithin's. It used to be funded by the Wayne Foundation. It's an orphanage. My mom died when I was small. It was a car accident, I don't really remember it. But my dad got shot a couple years later over a gambling debt and I remember that one… just fine." Jenna grimaced. Seeing someone die was never easy, especially for a kid.

"Not a lot of people know what it feels like to be angry, in your bones," Blake continued. "I mean, they understand, foster parents, everybody understands… for a while. Then they want the angry little kid to do something he knows he can't do: move on. So after awhile they stop understanding. They send the angry kid to a boy's home. I figured it out too late. You gotta learn to hide the anger, practice smiling in the mirror. It's like putting on a mask.

"So you showed up this one day, in a cool car, a pretty girl on your arm, Jenna trailing behind, smiling and playing with the other kids. We were so excited. Bruce Wayne and Jenna Dawes, billionaire orphans. I mean, we used to make up stories about you, man. Legends. And, you know, with the other kids, that's all it was, just stories, but right when I saw you, I knew who you really were. I'd seen that look on your face before. It's the same one I taught myself." Blake stood and headed for the door. "I don't know why you took the fall for Dent's murder, but I'm still a believer in the Batman, even if you're not." He turned to leave but Bruce stopped him.

"Why did you say that your boys' home used to be funded by the Wayne Foundation?

"Because the money stopped. Might be time to get some fresh air. Start paying attention to the details. Some of those details might need your help." He walked out and Jenna, wanting assurance on a few topics, followed.

"Wait, Officer Blake, may I have a word?"

"Sure Miss Daw– wait, how do you know my name?" Blake inquired.

"Gordon warned me about you after you asked if he wanted to know who the Batman was." Blake nodded.

"Well, does he know?" Blake asked.

"No. And he told me he doesn't want to."

"Why?"

"Probably because he'd be forced to arrest him if he knew." Blake frowned.

"Speaking of which, why exactly do you live with the man who killed your uncle?" Jenna took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry but I can't tell you. And truthfully, I hope you never know."

"Why?"

"The truth… is complicated and difficult, far more so than everyone pretends it is."

"So, you lie and keep secrets instead?"

"Look, I don't enjoy it, but sometimes it's necessary."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Yeah well, so are a lot of things in this town, in case you haven't noticed, and living in this town, you should know that some secrets should be kept for a reason," Jenna emphasized. Blake nodded.

"Don't worry. I won't tell anyone. But I want your trust." Jenna chuckled darkly.

"See, I used to be so trusting…" she trailed off.

"Then what?"

"My trust got my aunt killed. If you want my trust, you'll have to do a little more than know a secret."

"Yes ma'am." He left. Jenna headed back to Bruce and Alfred, to find them watching the officer go."

"You check that name? Bane?" Bruce questioned.

"He's a mercenary," Alfred informed him. "No other known names. Him and his men were behind a coup in the West Africa that secured mining operations for our friend John Daggett." Jenna growled. Of course, it all led back to Daggett.

"Now Daggett's brought them here."

"Or so it seems. I'll keep digging."

"Yeah." Alfred turned to leave but was stopped by Bruce. "Alfred, why did the Wayne Foundation stop funding boys' homes in the city?"

"The Wayne foundation is funded by the profits of Wayne Enterprises. There have to be some."

"Why didn't either of you tell me?" Bruce asked.

"We tried, it's not our fault you've been practically comatose for the past few years," Jenna argued.

"Time to talk to Mr. Fox, I think."

"I'll get him on the phone," Alfred said.

"No, no, no. Do we still have any cars around the place?"

"Yes. One or two," Alfred smiled.

"I need an appointment at the hospital for my leg," Bruce commented, heading for the other room.

"Which hospital?"

"Whichever one Jim Gordon's in," Bruce called back. Jenna and Alfred's eyes widened and they looked to each other.

"Should we be relieved he's getting out, or worried that he's getting out?" Jenna asked.

"We'll wait and see which one we should be," Alfred said. Jenna sighed.

"Could you schedule that appointment for after my work hours; I'd like to make sure Gordon's alright too." Alfred nodded and Jenna left for work.

"I've seen worse cartilage in knees," the Doctor said.

"That's good," said a clean-shaven Bruce in a nice, expensive suit, sitting on the hospital bed, Jenna standing next to him.

"No, that's because there is no cartilage in your knee, and not much of any use in your elbows or your shoulders," the Doctor said, motioning to the X-rays. "Between that and the scar tissue on your kidneys, the residual concussive damage to your brain tissue, and the general scarred-over quality of your body, I cannot recommend that you go heliskiing, Mr. Wayne."

"Right," Bruce nodded.

"Thank you Tom. Or, should I call you Dr. Elliot here?" Jenna inquired.

"You can call me what ever you like Jenna," Dr. Thomas Elliot replied, before he left. Jenna turned to find Bruce staring at her.

"What?"

"Are you two–"

"No! Oh God no, he's just a friend. Speaking of friends, I'm going to check on Gordon, while you… enjoy the view." Jenna left and headed down a few floors below, to find some men standing outside Gordon's door.

"Hey boys, mind if I pop in for a visit?"

"Sure Jenna," they replied. Jenna smiled and walked right in, closing the door gently and opening the window, before she made her way over to the man on the bed.

"Hey Gordon. How are you?" she asked, kneeling down.

"I've been better," Gordon rasped, his voice muffled slightly by the breathing mask. Jenna smiled slightly, though it slipped right off almost immediately.

"Well, I hope you're ready for a visit, because I've brought an old friend here to see you." She turned and motioned Bruce over, a ski mask now covering his face.

"It's you isn't it?" Gordon asked.

"Yes. What happened?" Bruce replied.

"We were in this together, and then you were gone."

"The Batman wasn't needed anymore. We won."

"Based on a lie. And now there's evil… rising from where we tried to bury it. The Batman has to come back."

"What if he doesn't exist anymore?"

"He must… he must." Gordon fell asleep and Jenna patted his hand. A few minutes later, she met Bruce down in the lobby.

"Any chance I could get you to come to Miranda Tate's party?" Bruce took out a digital map, which had a tracking device visible on it.

"I'm going to track down our missing cat, so –"

"No. Ah well, worth a shot."

"Good news: he's out of the house. Bad news: he's not coming," Jenna notified Miranda Tate at the party a few hours later.

"Are you sure?" Miranda asked, looking at something over Jenna's shoulder. Jenna turned to see Bruce across the way, looking over the party.

"Well, it's not the first time I've been wrong," Jenna admitted. Miranda smiled.

"I think it's about time I met the illustrious Mr. Wayne, don't you?" she asked.

"I completely agree, Miranda," Jenna smiled and the two made their way over to him.

"Bruce Wayne at a charity ball," Miranda said, her mask held over her face. Bruce turned.

"Miss Tate, isn't it?" Miranda removed the mask and smiled.

"Even before you became a recluse, you never came to these things."

"The proceeds go to the big fat spread. It's not about charity. It's about feeding the ego of whichever society hag laid this on." Jenna attempted to signal Bruce but the damage was done.

"Actually this is my party, Mr. Wayne," Miranda stated.

"Ah." Jenna resisted the urge to face palm. Of course, the one woman she tried to set Bruce up with since the death of her aunt and he insults her within three seconds of meeting her.

"And the proceeds will where they should, because I paid for the big fat spread myself."

"That's very generous of you."

"You have to invest if you want to restore balance to the world. Take our clean-energy project."

"Sometimes the investment doesn't pay off. I'm sorry." While that would've worked on most people, Miranda was special and saw right through it.

"You have a practiced apathy, Mr. Wayne. But a man who doesn't care about the world doesn't spend half his fortune on a plan to save it. And isn't so wounded when it fails that he goes into hiding. Have a good evening, Mr. Wayne." She nodded at Jenna and left the two of them to talk. Jenna turned to Bruce, an eyebrow raised.

"I thought you said you were looking for the missing cat?"

"She led me here." Bruce pointed out a young brunette in a black dress, mask, and cat ears, dancing with an older man.

"Not playing it very subtle for a cat burglar, is she?" The two made their way down stairs to the dance floor.

"I'm going in. Cover me?" Bruce asked. Jenna smiled.

"Yes sir." Bruce headed over to Selina Kyle and cut in between her and the older man. The two started to dance, Jenna observing them while the talked, the woman rolling her eyes every now and then. Eventually, Bruce took back the pearls and after an unsuccessful attempt at retrieving them, Ms. Kyle kissed Bruce full mouth, causing Jenna's sixteen-year-old self to resurface slightly and stick her tongue out in disgust. Selina took off, the older man, handing Bruce's cane back to him, before running after her, and Bruce made his way back over to Jenna.

"So, you got the pearls back and a little something extra I see." Bruce gave her a look and Jenna chuckled. "What exactly did you two talk about?"

"Apparently, the criminal underworld's been a little more active than the police believe."

"Is she part of a mob?"

"No. But she's part of something else, something bigger."

"Bane?"

"No, she's in deep with the wrong people, and I've got a feeling he's the wrong person."

"Well, if he's so terrible, what's he planning?"

"I don't know but it's obviously something big. She warned me about a storm coming."

"Well, luckily we've got plenty of umbrellas and emergency kits," Jenna joked. Bruce chuckled.

"She actually said something that reminded me of you." Jenna raised an eyebrow.

"Oh yeah? What was it?" Bruce smirked.

"'Any twelve-year-old with a cell phone can find out what you've done.'"

"Oh shut up," Jenna told him, her face slightly pink. The two made their way out and Jenna handed the valet her ticket while Bruce searched his pockets.

"I must have lost my ticket," he told the valet.

"Your wife said you were taking a cab home," the man replied.

"My wife!" Bruce exclaimed. Jenna burst out laughing.

"So, that's twice she's stolen something from right under your nose. I like her."

"Oh shut up." Jenna regained her breath and got into her car, locking the door when Bruce tried to get in. He tapped on the window and she rolled it down. "What are you doing?"

"This is my car. I paid for it with my own money, I don't want you making comments about my driving the whole way home, and it's not my fault you got your car stolen."

"I can kick you out of the house you know." Jenna scoffed.

"I'd like to see you try. I'm the one who actually carries the house keys. Now, I'm tired and I'm going home. Either get a cab or call Alfred." With that she rolled the window back up and drove away, leaving a rather embarrassed Bruce Wayne to call Alfred for a ride.