Be warned there's lots of tears in here, stress, so get what you need to keep you calm during and after.

Kristine is all I own, but the tale is named after Adrian von Ziegler's YouTube piece, "In My Darkest Hour".

The moment she looked at her reflection, she broke inside.

"Bruce...you bastard...son of...son of a bitch..."

"Language, dear Kristine."

She jerked around in her seat to glare at the old butler in the doorway of her gilded dungeon. No way would this be a room, because nothing here felt like a home. "Why am I not surprised that it's all you care about and not my predicament?"

He flinched before collecting himself. "I wish I could do something, but all I can do is offer you comfort. I should have ended all of this the moment he announced he would take up the cowl, but it's too late. If I do it now, it compromises the entire community at large, and worst threats would retaliate without him and the Justice League." Alfred shook his head. "If only anything was that simple."

If only it was that simple...

She wished she'd never gotten involved, but at the same time, she chose to do this for Jason and the others out there. She saw signs and took it upon herself, despite Rebecca protesting and being right all along.

Everyone she loved, including herself, paid the price, because of HER.

Turning away from the long-suffering man behind her, she glared at herself again. At the dress she wore, which she chose as an act of rebellion for this night: a sleek, long satin dress that glittered all over for a shimmer with every move. It was rosy gold for innocence and sophistication, hugging her hips, and leaving her arms bared while the modest round neckline gave her the right outline of her chest. It was sure to make her the center of attention, but then again...

Alfred cleared his throat. "I believe there's one more thing to add, Miss Kristine. This was once one of Martha Wayne's. She and Master Thomas never would have approved of what their son has become, but I doubt they would have rejected you." He then walked into the grand bedroom, the details she could care less about, with a magnificent wooden box in hand. Opening it, there beheld against an amethyst velvet background were a ring, pendant, and earrings of classic-cut London blue surrounded by baguette diamonds in a scalloped setting, trimmed with gold on the silver; the matching drop earrings hung on a heart-shaped post. "They were personally commissioned for her shortly after their son's birth when we all once took a holiday to England, my birthplace. That was the inspiration." Kristine closed her eyes and lowered her face. Even stuff like this couldn't cheer her up. Nothing did anymore; she felt like the end of the line was gonna come any day now.

Her dad had lost his position, his livelihood, and his research funding cut off. That didn't last, for as a consequence, Wayne took her away from Jonathan as collateral in order to keep everything going. Or else.

She was forbidden from being in contact with Becky again, because her girl knew too much thanks to her. As far as Batman was concern, that was a danger, and he was keeping tabs on the Langstrom family from now on to make sure their daughter didn't try anything.

Kristine still had no idea what dirt this dirtbag had on her dad and Becky's, but she was half-tempted to investigate, though at the same time, he could catch onto her due to being much more careful after she'd slipped under his radar so much.

She was set to go to Gotham University where he could keep her close and pay for her tuition, for that meant she owed him. He let her do what she wanted with her degree in return, but even that came at a price.

Would he make her a sidekick and little bitch of his against her will? Make her like Dick and Jason had been, or worse without even taking her out into the field? What would become of her there? He hadn't said anything about being in touch with him and Barbara. Yet.

She was a prisoner.

But she planned to bide her time.

"He made me a martyr," Kristine declared to Alfred, coolly accepting the box she should have been honored to wear, but it felt like a chain and links on a smaller scale. "And someday I'll make him the villain."

"I've saved people from themselves as much as I've saved them from each other. You're not gonna take away everything I've built from the ground up. You're a threat just like your father once was."

There was the demon himself, cold eyes Arctic blue, and his voice becoming more demonic with every word. Her worst nightmare just as much as the Joker was.

"I WON'T LET YOU BECOME JASON."

~o~

Sharply gasping, heart slamming against her breastbone in unison, Kristine catapulted into alertness. Instinctly, she clutched onto the blankets and sheet as a lifeline. Just a nightmare...just a horrible dream...

But it felt so REAL.

Like it could really happen if HE found out what she was doing.

Flinging the covers off, Kristine hurried out of her bedroom and into the hallway of her home, where everything comfortable and familiar surrounded her and in the right amount rather than excessively and unnecessarily, and didn't stop until she reached Jonathan Crane's bedroom. Where he still slept on his side even after his wife died. Taking her dad's sleeping form, ignoring everything materialistic, she felt a pang of many feelings she couldn't separate, except knowing they warred and tore parts of her apart. Jonathan was in a light blue collared nightshirt, shown when the blankets fell off his upper form. She wasn't sure what time it was, but he had to have come home late from the asylum. Seeing him made her feel safe again, but the other feelings didn't go away.

"I love you, Daddy," she breathed, in case his hearing would catch on. With that, she carefully pulled the door into a small crack as he preferred.

She knew she wasn't gonna be able to go back to sleep. She needed to talk to someone, and Becky was out at this time. She was a heavy sleeper than she was, without needing melatonin, so there was one she could think of, if he was available at this time.

What if he's dealing with that Blockbuster son of a bitch again? Or someone else? Or if he's asleep, too?

Picking up her cell against the odds, she dialed Dick Grayson's number.

"Hey, Kris, you're awake late," he said jokingly after the first ring. He made that sure from then on upon seeing her name, and it always seemed to be about timing or him counting on it by answering as soon as he saw her pop up. "Lemme guess: bad dream or just can't sleep?" He got serious then. And so she wasted no time telling him the entire sequence without a breath. "Oh, God, Kris..."

"Yeah, as soon as I woke, I went right to Dad's room. There he was sleeping, but I couldn't wake him up." She leaned back against her headboard, one arm holding her stomach.

"Not even for comfort even though you know you're too big? If I was there, I'd stay up and spend time with you until you fell asleep again. That sleeping stuff can only do so much, and you don't wanna go the route of drinking and drugs."

Exactly, and no way Jason would have wanted that. "Took the words outta my mouth, Dick."

He chuckled. "Tell you what. What do you say I get you and Becky over with Babs and me, so we can pop in that Japanese movie you said made you feel better, or maybe Swan Princess? Or anything else? Marathons always helped me."

Yeah, that was a great idea. She needed that.

"Oh, and Kristine? We will NOT let Bruce get to you. I swear on my mom and dad's souls and mine - and Jay's."