Music played lightly at the edges of Bruce's mind as it teetered on the edge of sleep. Finally he stirred with a groan which he quickly silenced when he remembered where he was. The pilot's chair of the Batwing had been adjusted down to create the small bed upon which Bruce and Diana were laying, wrapped in each other's arms, with a small blanket fetched from the apartment draped over their otherwise unclothed bodies.

It was then that Bruce noticed the flashing red light on the vehicle dashboard. Reaching over gently so as not to disturb the still slumbering Diana, Bruce tapped a button on the display and the resulting readouts that materialized on the screen were dire. He shook Diana awake. "Come on, get dressed," he said. "We have to leave now."

"Morning already?" a still sleep addled Diana mumbled. "Your jet is cloaked. It's not like anyone is going to see it. Besides, I don't need clothes to scramble eggs."

"Those weren't the kinds of clothes I was referring to," Bruce said dourly as he pointed Diana's attention to the display.

Her face grew grim as she saw the readings. Then she said in a suddenly clear voice, "I'll get my things."

Moments later the Batwing was tracing an invisible arc across the waters of the bay which were glittering reflections of the morning sun and the flames of the city. The jet roared over a series of burning buildings and sprayed water from a series of downward facing nozzles located on the lower part of the plane. To those below, it appeared as though some extraordinarily convenient rainfall simply dropped out of a clear sky to deaden the flames. Then, later on, a host of people trapped inside a subway station suddenly found a new passageway blasted open for them and they streamed out in the rubble strewn streets expecting to be greeted by emergency responders, only to be greeted instead with the distant sound of a sonic boom and the astonished looks on the faces of the firefighters and EMS teams that had been struggling for hours to rescue them.

Bruce looked at the various displays spewing information across his screen as the autopilot set emergency priorities. One of the alien ships had hovered over the skies above Gotham city and was discharging volleys of weapons and legions of the familiar winged creatures Clark had once referred to as parademons to wreak yet more havoc across the town. Among the multitude of emergency alerts scrolling across the screen was one for Gotham General Hospital and Bruce's eyes went wide. He overrode the autopilot and brought the craft into a sharp turn before blasting off in the direction of the hospital.

Seconds later and the Batwing had entered the cloud of billowing black smoke which had enveloped the hospital like a hostile atmosphere. As the craft hovered above the roof of the building, the smoke made the sky so black as to be almost mistaken for night. The light from the interior of the craft momentarily pierced the veil as the exit ramp opened and discharged the fierce Diana, replete in her battle armor which shone white against the light of the craft. The light quickly faded as the ramp shut and the craft hovered away. Meanwhile, Diana unsheathed her sword and used the pommel of it to smash through the roof and into a flaming hallway to search for anyone in the building who might still be alive.

Meanwhile, the Batwing hovered beyond the edge of the roof and lowered itself down. Bruce activated the powerful searchlight located at the front of the plane and swiveled the craft from side to side so he could scan the windows for any sign of people still left in any of the rooms. Here and there he caught a glimpse of Diana as she flew down different hallways and into different rooms to rescue people, her armor giving off a telltale glint from the reflection of the searchlight. A warning light buzzed to tell Bruce that the Batwing's engines were passing into first stage heat exhaustion. After pushing the plane so hard, the air vents were blasting massive contrails in the smoke as the plane descended.

Finally, Bruce laid eyes on his target. In a room surrounded by flames, a still slumbering Barbara Gordon lay in bed as the monitors taped to her body were going off in alarm. The room was flooded with the light of the Batwing's search light and just a few seconds later the giant form of a bat smashed through the windows and went into a roll across the floor. Bruce recovered as gracefully as ever and took quick steps to the bedside of his former collaborator. He checked her vital signs and looked her over with an undeniable sense of increasing panic. "No, no, no," he was whispering to himself. "Don't die on me, don't you die on me!"

Outside the black cloud of the burning building, Jim Gordon looked on helplessly. He could feel his throat go tense and tears start to well up at the edges of his eyes. He couldn't bear to simply look at it anymore and had to turn and walk away, tersely telling the lieutenant that the young man now had control of the situation… what was left of it, anyway.

Jim ducked down an alleyway and slumped against the brick siding of one of the buildings, the tears starting to come in fits and starts. He had never considered himself a crying man, but the thought of letting down his wife was now almost too much for him to be able to stomach.

Just as he thought he was about to lose his lunch, he heard the sound of a low rumble coming from just above him. Seemingly out of thin air, a ramp appeared and standing at the end of it was the caped figure he had once feared, but had come to respect. And in the arms of the caped figure was draped the slumbering, red headed, bundled form of his precious Barbara. As Batman descended the ramp and set foot on the rotten ground of the alley, Gordon could feel his tears of despair turning into tears of joy.

Batman handed Barbara to Jim and the commissioner was shocked to find how light she had become. Nevertheless, she was alive and that was all that mattered. He looked up into the eyes of her rescuer and shuttered, "Thank you."

Bruce gave a slight shake of his head. "No need to thank me, but when she wakes up, you can tell her for me that I said I was sorry… for everything."

Through the din of a city in chaos, a familiar if croaky voice replied, "She heard you."

Bruce felt his face light up as he saw the mop of red hair at the end of the blanketed bundle in Jim's arms start to turn, revealing a lily white, freckled face.

Barbara fixed Bruce with her characteristic warm smile and said with a wink, "and she forgives you… for everything. Now you just go and give 'em hell… for me."