Afraid of the Dark

Title: Afraid of the Dark
Author: Celia Tracy (aka Rae Street, aka Rainfall)
Summary: A girl named Kami cuts through an abandoned Warehouse district in the middle of the night, hears shots fired, goes to investigate. Starring Batman and Joker; told from Kami's POV.
Rating: PG-13 for violence
Status: WIP
Disclaimer: All Batman characters belong to DC Comics, and whoever else they belong to. Kami, Brute and Smokey are my own creations.
A/N: This is my first Batman Fanfic. Please let me know if I should change the rating from PG-13 to something else. Also, before anyone tells me that Batman would NEVER EVER get shot, I already know that. But the Plot Bunnies bounced around in my head for months on end until I finally broke down and wrote it! They made me write it! I swear!

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=Chapter One: Who's Afraid of the Dark?=

My name is Kamille Rebecca Hodges; I'm known as Kami to my friends. I'm an eighteen (almost nineteen) year old, 5'3" female with mousy brown hair and eyes. But I'm not really here to talk about myself or what I look like. No... I'm here to talk about something else entirely. It was the night, the event, which changed my life forever.

It all started when I was walking home late one evening, about three weeks ago, after hitting a few balls at the batting cages. I still had my baseball bat with me... she's a nice one, really hefty; and she comes in handy late at night discouraging would-be muggers and such. It might seem a bit silly, but I've named her Sadie.

Anyway, I took a shortcut through the warehouse district, and cut through the lot of an abandoned warehouse. It used to house furniture; and furniture crates, huge stacks of them, still littered the yard. They kind of formed a maze, which I thought was cool to maneuver through in the dark. Sort of like being in a fun house.

As I was walking through, near the back of the lot, I suddenly came face-to-headlights with the Batmobile. I couldn't believe it... what on earth was the Batmobile doing there? The building was abandoned; no one had been there in ages... as far as I knew. What would the Batman be doing there? I carefully made my way to the side of the car, and peered in through the window. There was noone inside. I figured Batman must be inside the warehouse. And probably there for a reason... which of course meant bad guys and danger.

At that moment, I was struck with two conflicting emotions... caution, and curiosity. The saner part of me felt it would be wise to leave the area in a hurry. But the outrageous, curious part of me felt that if there were bad guys inside the warehouse, this would be my chance to see the Batman in action. My sane side eventually won out, and I started to cautiously make my way out of the lot. At least until a loud sound stopped me dead in my tracks. The sound could have been mistaken for a car backfiring... but I'd heard enough gunfire in my lifetime to know better. And that's exactly what that sound was... a gunshot.

I knew that the Batman didn't use guns. So, to me, that proved there was someone else in that warehouse. A normal, sane person would probably have run for the hills at that moment... but all it did was make me even more curious. I had to know what was going on in that warehouse. I turned right around, almost in mid-step, and started making my way to the warehouse.

As I drew near, I noticed light coming from some of the windows in the back of the warehouse. The light was faint; I figured it was more towards the middle of the warehouse, so I thought noone would be in the back. Boy was I wrong. I started to clear the last pile of crates, intending on going in through the back door, when it suddenly swung open. Startled, I jumped back behind the pile of crates, flattening myself against them. I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down, then cautiously peered around the corner.

I could just make out the silhouette of a man, standing just inside the doorway. It was big, and didn't look a thing like Batman. The man seemed to be fumbling around for something in his pockets; when he found what he was looking for, he stepped out of the doorway. There was just a sliver of moon left, but it was a clear night, and I could kind of make the guy out better by the starlight. Nope, it definitely wasn't Batman.

The guy leaned against the wall of the warehouse, a little ways from the door. He lifted something to his mouth... I figured it must be a cigarette. I knew I was right when he struck a match, and the end of the cigarette began to give off a red glow. But in that one instant when he struck the match, the flash of light lit up his face well enough for me to see it. I almost choked... I'd seen that face before on America's Most Wanted. This guy was wanted for Murder, Arson, you name it. He goes by the nickname of Smokey... for the fires he starts and for his smoking.

I ducked back behind the packing crates, sat down on the ground and leaned my back against one of the crates. I had to think this one out. First of all, there were bad guys inside an old abandoned warehouse. Second of all, Batman was here. Fair enough. I'm sure this situation has happened many times before.

But there were a couple of things which bothered me about this situation. Number one being, I'd heard a gunshot a few minutes before... and number two, At least one of the bad guys was still standing, and was calmly smoking a cigarette outside. This led me to the conclusion that either The Batman was dead, or he'd been captured. Not good... not good at all. I like the Bat. He's a pretty cool guy, got some neat gadgets and some wicked moves... and he saved my friend once. I felt I owed him one. So I made the only decision I thought I could... and that was to get inside the warehouse... no matter what.

I carefully made my way around the side of the building, to see if there were any other openings, like a broken window or something. I spied an old loading zone; a square hole cut into the building, where they used to send the packing crates through on a conveyor belt. It didn't look to be more than four feet off of the ground, and didn't seem to be boarded up, so I thought I might have a chance of climbing through it. I just hoped that I could do so unnoticed.

There was about 15 yards of wide open area between me and the hole... no cover at all. I peered around the packing crate I was hiding behind, and looked first to my right, then to my left. The coast was clear. I took a deep breath, and made a mad dash for the hole, keeping as low to the ground as possible.

Upon reaching the hole, I discovered that it was covered with heavy strips of black plastic. I pulled back slightly on one, and peered inside. I didn't see anyone immediately in view, so I pulled it back further and hoisted myself and my baseball bat inside.

I could see light coming from the middle area of the warehouse, but it was dark in the corner I found myself in. Darker than outside. I blinked a couple of times, waiting for my eyes to adjust. When they did, I glanced around at my surroundings. There were packing crates inside the building, lining the walls. There was just enough space between the packing crates and the wall for me to fit through, and I thought that would come in handy. Boy, did it ever.

I didn't think anyone had noticed me, but a sudden shout made my heart leap into my throat. I dropped to the ground, ducking behind a packing crate. Had I been spotted? I froze in place, waiting to see if I'd been discovered.

"Smokey, get in here!" the man shouted again.

I breathed a silent sigh of relief. I hadn't been discovered. They were just calling Smokey back inside.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Smokey shouted.

I heard footsteps walking towards where I knelt, and I gripped my baseball bat in both hands. The footsteps reached the place where I was, and kept going. The man didn't even stop for an instant. I was really glad. I peered just above the edge of the crate, and watched the man's retreating back.

He was headed for the lit area of the warehouse. I figured that was where Batman was, so I started to follow the guy... keeping a little distance, and the crates, between him and me. The footsteps faded away, coming to a stop. I paused, wondering what to do next. I'd reached the lit portion of the warehouse, and could hear the men talking.

"It's about time you came back," one of the men snarled.

I almost dropped my bat. Something about that voice sent cold shivers running down my spine. There was a small space between the crates, and I looked through it to see if the person was in view. What I saw horrified me. There were three men there, less than ten feet away from where I hid; the one I know as Smokey... another one that had a long scar running down his face... and the third one... was the Joker. He was holding a very wicked looking gun, with a very long barrel. I really hate guns.

"What took you so long," he asked Smokey, waving the gun in Smokey's general direction.

"S-Sorry, boss," the man stuttered. "It took me a while to find my smokes."

"Excuses, excuses," Joker chided, shaking his head back and forth.

He looked over at the scarred guy.

"Brute, go get the car ready," he ordered. "We'll be leaving here as soon as I conclude business. Smokey, you're staying here. I want you to be my witness."

Brute gave a nod, then walked away, going towards the back. The Joker watched him go, then he turned his attention and his gun to something at his feet. I maneuvered myself until I could see too. There was a dark form laying there, and my eyes opened wide in terror as I realized who it was. It was Batman, and he was laying face down in a pool of blood.

My heart was in my throat, and I couldn't breath; I felt like I was going to puke. I dragged my eyes away, trying to see if Robin or Batgirl were there, but I didn't see either of them. Batman was there alone... I didn't know why, but it was a decision that may have cost him his life.

Batman suddenly groaned, and tried to lift himself up. I gasped. He was alive, at least. I was relieved at that, but I didn't know how badly he'd been wounded. The Joker pushed Batman back down with his foot, grinning from ear to ear. He began to circle his ‘prize', the way a shark circles his prey.

"Well, Batsy, I swore I'd get you sooner or later... It looks like sooner to me," he gloated.

Oh, I was just itching to wipe that smug grin off of his face. It looked like Batman had the same thought, because his hand balled up into a fist and he tried to get up again. Joker just pushed him down again with his foot. Then he slid his foot under Batman, and flipped him over onto his back.

"I want you to see the end coming," he said to Batman, pointing the gun in Batman's face.

"You're not going to get away with it, Joker," Batman said.

"Oh, but I already have, Batbrain," Joker cackled. He bent down low until he was nearly eye to eye with Batman. "I already have."

He straightened up and smiled gleefully.

"You see, Batbreath," he continued, "I may have only ‘winged' you, but that was no ordinary bullet I shot you with. No, I had these bullets made especially for you. They're specially designed to cut through your lovely suit, and come complete with a powerful slow-release toxin. A toxin which is now pumping through your blood stream, slowly ticking away your last seconds of life."

He walked a full circle around Batman, then stopped again, his back turned toward where I was hidden.

"You know, Batface," he said, pointing the gun in Batman's face again. "I thought I'd be content to let you die a slow, painful death. But I'm not. You'd probably find your way out of it again, just like you always do. That's why I'm going to finish the job now."

I could hear him start to pull back on the trigger, and I prepared to make my move.

"But boss," Smokey interrupted him, putting a hand on his right shoulder, "aren't you going to see who he is first?"

The Joker turned his head and looked pointedly at Smokey's hand. Smokey pulled it back, but that wasn't good enough for The Joker. Joker slowly turned around until he was face to face with Smokey, and pointed the gun barrel in Smokey's face. Smokey gulped, and turned five shades of white. I'd never seen that shade of white on a man before... not even on my uncle Ernie, who'd earned himself the nickname of pastyboy in highschool. No, this guy's face was pure white.

"Did I ask you?" Joker asked coldly, pressing the gun into Smokey's nose. "If I recall correctly, you're paid to do what I tell you to do. Not the other way around. Or are you challenging my authority?"

"N-n-no, boss, sorry boss," Smokey stuttered, taking a couple steps backward, trying to get away from the gun.

But the Joker only followed, pressing the gun harder into the man's nose. I could see his nose bending slightly sideways under the pressure. He stopped moving, and looked down at the gun barrel, his eyes going crosswise. Sweat started pouring down his face from his forehead, and he was breathing heavily.

The Joker let him stand there, sweating it out for a few more moments. Then his expression changed. He smiled sweetly... well, as sweetly as the Joker can smile anyway. It really gave me the creeps.

"Well, if you're really sorry, I guess we can let you off the hook... this time," Joker said in a sickeningly sweet voice.

While this was taking place I looked over at Batman, just in time to see him pull something from his utility belt. I had no idea what it was... but I had a feeling he was planning something. He carefully rolled over onto his stomach and raised his head. He looked over toward the crates I was hiding behind... Weak as he seemed, I suddenly knew he was going to try to make a break for it. But he suddenly froze... his sharp eyes seeming to have discovered the one thing that Joker and the others hadn't; me.

Our eyes locked, and I could see the wheels in his head start turning in another direction. I was a factor he hadn't figured on in his plan of escape, and now he was trying to find another way out. His first plan would've endangered my life.

By now, the Joker noticed that Batman was up to something. He walked back over to stand above him, pointing the gun to the back of Batman's head. Smokey cautiously walked over, until he stood about a foot off to Joker's side.

I was angry. If I hadn't been there at that moment, maybe the Batman would've had a chance to escape. Now I was about to see the Batman get his brains blown out by the Joker. I growled low in my throat... No, there was no way I was going to let that happen.

My friends used to call me Kami. Now, my first name is Kamille, but that wasn't why they called me Kami. The Kami was short for Kamikaze, a nickname I'd earned in seventh grade for a near-suicidal play I ran on the football field. I'd broken my right leg and left arm, and almost broke my neck. But we still got the winning touchdown in the game. I had a feeling I was about to earn that nickname again tonight.

The Joker started to pull back on the trigger. Smokey seemed to be watching every move, and I could imagine his eyes gleaming with blood-lust. They had their backs turned toward me, so I felt this was my chance. I climbed up on the four foot crate, gripped my bat in both hands, and got ready to pounce.

"Hey, Boss, the car's ready," Brute had suddenly reappeared.

His voice startled the Joker, who snapped up his gun just as it fired. The bullet smashed harmlessly against the far wall. Brute had startled me too, and I almost fell backwards from my perch.

"Will you imbeciles stop interrupting me?" Joker yelled, swinging the gun around into Brute's face.

Neither of them had noticed me yet, but I was in full view now. And Smokey had turned around, and was staring straight at me. He fumbled for his gun, quickly pulled it out and trained it on me. I froze, my stomach turning somersaults as I looked at that gun. Did I mention I hate guns?

"Boss!" Smokey exclaimed.

"What is it NOW?" Joker snarled, turning to glare at Smokey.

My ‘element of surprise' had been wasted, and I was dead where I stood. Or so I thought. As the Joker turned to look at me, two things suddenly happened. Batman, who had managed to drag himself into a kneeling position, flung a batarang at Smokey and knocked his gun out of his hand. Almost simultaneously, Batman rolled a small marble-looking thing at the Joker's feet.

It exploded, shooting jets of thick smoke and gas into the air. The area was blanketed with the smoke in the space of very few seconds, and I could hear the men coughing. My lungs and eyes were stinging from the smoke, but I wasn't about to waste another element of surprise. Even through the smoke I could see the silhouettes of the three men, and I knew this was my only chance.

I leapt down from the crates and ran full steam into the thickest part of the smoke, my baseball bat already swinging. I came upon the Joker first, my bat connecting with his jaw with a satisfying crack. He did a little half spin on his heel, and landed on the floor with a crash.

Brute came at me through the smoke, both arms swinging. I ducked under his giant fists, and jabbed the end of my bat into his stomach as hard as I could. He doubled over in pain, and I clipped him on the chin with the other end of the bat. He went down.

Smokey grabbed me from behind, wrapping his arms tightly around me, pinning my arms at my sides. He lifted me into the air and squeezed until I dropped my bat. I thought my ribs were going to break, and I couldn't breath. Desperately I threw my head back as hard as I could, the back of my head connecting with Smokey's nose with a sickening crunch. He howled in pain and let go, and as I dropped I dragged the heels of my sneakers down the entire length of his shins, smashing painfully onto his feet. He dropped to his knees, and I slammed my fist into his jaw. He finally went down.

The smoke was starting to fade, and through watery eyes I could see Batman attempting to stand. But the toxin in his bloodstream had weakened him too much. He wasn't going to get out of here alive... not without help.

I rushed to his side and dropped to my knees, and reached for his right arm.

"Not that one," he hissed, in obvious pain.

I realized then that he'd been shot in his right shoulder, so I quickly moved to his left side. He allowed me to drape his left arm around my shoulders, and I wrapped my right arm around his waist. He leaned as much weight as he could on me, without causing me to lose my own balance, and I heaved upward. In one almost-fluid movement, we were finally standing.

I knew he was in a weakened condition, because of the toxin. And I knew that walking was going to be painful for him. But I wasn't strong enough to carry or drag him, and there wasn't time for me to go for help. This was our only chance of getting out of there alive.

We started moving towards the back, going as fast as we could, which was little more than a slow jog. All we could really do was keep putting one foot in front of the other, and try not to stumble in the smokey half-dark. I looked up into Batman's eyes... they had an unreadable expression in them. I guessed he was upset at just leaving the Joker lying there, instead of hauling him back to Arkham. There was nothing that could be done though. Batman needed medical attention, and he needed it fast. If we stopped now for the Joker, Batman was sure to die.

I felt bad about the situation, and I guess it must have shown in my eyes. Batman turned his eyes on me in an unreadable glance, then turned his eyes to look straight ahead. I blushed, embarrassed, and did the same. This situation was bad enough, but I was making it worse. Batman didn't need sympathy right now... it wouldn't help him. Getting out of there would. I turned my concentration back to the task at hand... taking as much of his weight on me as I could, and keeping my feet moving. I had no idea what it must be costing him... what the pain must be like. He hid it well though.

We finally reached the door. It was metal and heavy, and I grunted as I pulled it open. We almost lost our balance then, but we managed to recover it at the last moment and stumbled through the doorway. The heavy metal door slammed shut behind us with a crash.

We'd finally made it outside, and I felt exhilarated over our small accomplishment. But we weren't out of the woods yet. We somehow had to make it to Batman's car. But how? Batman's legs were even now beginning to buckle, and the car was some yards off. Batman pressed something on his belt, and I heard a powerful motor roar to life somewhere in the back of the lot.

The sound was coming closer, heading straight for us. I flinched as the Batmobile crashed through a wall of packing crates, smashing them to pieces... then I opened my eyes wide in terror. The car was headed straight for us, and it was showing no sign of slowing down. There was no time to throw ourselves out of it's way... it was almost upon us.

"Batman!" I shrieked.

"Car, stop..." Batman said thickly.

The car came to a screeching halt, not two inches away from where we stood. I was shaking, and blinking in disbelief. Why... how, did it stop? Feeling a little bit stupid, I came to a sudden realization.

"Voice activated..." I said in a shaky voice.

"Open..." Batman said, his voice little more than a groan.

The top slid open at his command.

I could feel Batman's strength giving out, and his knees were beginning to buckle. I heard a sudden shout from inside the warehouse... The Joker had regained consciousness, and was even now shouting orders at his men. Time was of the essence.

"You'll have to drive," Batman said thickly.

That was what I was afraid of. I liked the car and all, but How was I going to drive it? It was practically as big as a bus! There was no time to argue though, and there really was no other option... so I kept my mouth shut and helped Batman around the car to the passenger side. I managed to get him with in a little difficulty, trying not to touch his injured shoulder. I then ran around to the driver's side.

I swung into the driver's seat, and the top of the car slid shut. The seat and steering wheel adjusted themselves automatically to fit me, which I thought was really cool. Maybe driving this thing won't be so bad after all. I didn't have long to marvel at the car though.

A moment later, the warehouse door slammed open. The Joker took long strides through the doorway, stopping in the bright light of the headlights. His face was a bloody mess where I'd hit him with my bat, and he looked very angry. He raised his long-barreled gun straight at my head, looking me dead in the eyes. His eyes gleamed with pure, evil murder, and my face went white under his stare.

Maybe I should've run him down right then... but I don't know. I've never killed anyone. All I could think about was getting as far away from him, and that gun, as fast as possible. I slammed the gearshift into reverse and slammed my foot down on the gas. Batman and I both jerked forward as the car peeled backwards. I turned the steering wheel hard to the right, narrowly missing more packing crates, and I slammed the gearshift into forward. And we were off!

A hail of bullets followed our retreat, bouncing off of the car with a metallic twang. I didn't know what kind of damage they did, if any, and I couldn't stop driving to find out. I turned a couple of corners, and we were out of the lot, speeding down the road. I quickly glanced at Batman... he was beginning to lose consciousness.

"Batman?" I asked, worried.

"Visor... yellow pill..." he said weakly.

Yellow pill? I didn't question him though. Leaving one hand on the steering wheel, I reached up with the other to fumble around behind the visor. My fingertips touched a flat, plastic case, and I pulled it into view. It was clear plastic, and I could see a number of little yellow pills inside. I cracked open the case and removed one of the pills, closing the case so the rest wouldn't spill out. I reached over and put the pill in Batman's mouth, then returned the case to it's place behind the visor. I was glad to have both hands on the steering wheel again.

I wasn't really sure what the pill was supposed to do... but I guessed maybe it would help counteract the toxin. If the bullet was still in Batman's shoulder though, it probably wouldn't be enough. He still needed medical attention... but I didn't know where to take him. I didn't think a normal hospital would be a good idea... for various reasons.

"Batman? Where am I supposed to be driving to?" I asked, as calmly as I could.

He pointed to a little screen on the dashboard that I hadn't noticed before. I recognized it as a digital map of the city, and there was a red dot streaking along one of the roads, and a yellow dot blinking steadily in the corner. I understood that the red dot was the Batmobile, and the yellow dot was our destination. I turned a few street corners until we were headed in the right direction, and took a few deep breaths to try and calm down. I looked over at Batman... his head was drooping off to one side; he'd lost consciousness.

I looked down at the screen... we were really close now to the yellow blip... and I looked back up just in time to see we were headed straight for an oncoming car! I gasped, and veered sharply to the right. We narrowly missed the other car by bare inches.

I didn't have time to be relieved though. I had swerved too sharply, and ended up barreling through a few trash cans that lined the street. Trash exploded everywhere, flying high into the air, and covering the windshield. I couldn't see where I was driving. I slammed on the brakes, and the batmobile screeched to a halt. This sucker could stop on a dime.

Did I mention we were wearing seatbelts? Well, we were... luckily the car was equipped with those automatic seatbelts that slide in place when you close the door... or the top, in this case. It was a good thing too. If I hadn't been wearing a seatbelt, I would've been wearing the steering wheel by now... around my neck. And Batman would've been in a lot worse shape than he already was... so it was a really good thing we were wearing seatbelts.

After the car screeched to a halt, the engine stalled and the car turned off. I sat shaking in the drivers seat, trying to catch my breath, wondering what to do next. A sudden tap on the driver's side window caused me to jump, and I swung around, my eyes wide with fear. There was an elderly woman standing there, peering in.

"Are you alright in there?" she called through the glass.

I turned to look at Batman. He was still unconscious, his head leaning off to one side. I turned back to the lady, shaking my head, a worried look in my eyes.

"I am, but Batman isn't," I called through the glass.

She walked around the car to the passenger side, wading through the spilled garbage and filth. I don't know what she did, but the top of the car slid open, and she set about checking him over. I piled out of the car, and ran around to see what she was doing.

"What happened?" she asked, checking his pulse.

"Joker shot him. I think the bullet might still be in him. It's full of toxin," I said in a rushed voice.

"I may be able to help him. Help me bring him inside," she said.

Inside where? I looked around me. We were in an alley, in between some buildings. A door in the building behind us was hanging open... bright light spilling from it into the darkness, a welcome sight after the events of the night. I figured that building was where she meant. I didn't know who she was, or how she could possibly help Batman. But something in her eyes told me that there was nothing to fear. I nodded to her, and we set down to business.

Between the two of us, we managed to pull Batman from the car, and half carry/half drag him inside the building. To my immense relief, I found that the building housed a small medical clinic, and the woman led the way into an operating room. We rolled Batman onto the operating table, being careful not to hit his shoulder.

"Leslie," Batman groaned in a low voice.

"I'm here, Batman," she said. "I'm here. You're going to be okay now."

"I'll need you to assist me," she said to me.

"Yeah, sure, okay," I said.

I tried not to look down at my clothes, which were covered in blood. This was no time to freak out... I had to concentrate on the task at hand, which was doing whatever Dr. Leslie told me to do.

"Hand me a pair of scissors," she said, motioning to a tray of sharp instruments at the head of the table.

I grabbed the scissors and handed them to her, handle first. She cut away Batman's suit surrounding the wound, assessing his condition. After a little checking, she determined that the bullet was still inside him. So she set about removing the bullet. She worked quickly and silently, only speaking when she needed me to hand her another instrument or sponge. As I watched her work, my head swimming in a mixture of horror and fascination, I wondered how much longer it would take. But I just didn't know.

An eternity had passed since Dr. Leslie and I had first dragged Batman into the clinic, and I had completely lost track of time. Time that had just seemed to stop; no past, no future... just the now... and I almost couldn't remember ever being anywhere else, but in that surgery. Just waiting, wondering, if Batman would make it. Anything could happen in that time frame...things that I didn't want to think about. What if Batman didn't make it? But I couldn't think about that... not then, not now. I drew a shaky breath, and forced myself to focus on the orders the doctor was giving me.

"Ha! I've found it..." Leslie said triumphantly.

Using a pair of long tweezers, she extracted the villainous bullet from Batman's shoulder, and let it clatter into a tin cup sitting on the tray. I looked at the bullet, small and twisted, and wondered at how such a small thing could be so deadly.

Dr. Leslie set to work stitching up Batman. She glanced my way, concern in her soft eyes. It was only then that I realized, I was crying.

"It's not too bad," she said to me as she worked. "If the bullet had entered a fraction of an inch to the left, it would have punctured his lung. But the wound itself is pretty minor, when compared to others. What we really need to be concerned with now is the toxin in his system."

I nodded, not trusting my voice enough to speak. After Leslie finished stitching up Batman, she had me leave the room while she finished attending to him. I figured it was because she didn't want me to see who Batman really was, so I didn't argue. I wandered down the hall until I found a waiting room, and slumped down onto the couch.

I must have fallen asleep then... for when I woke up, I heard voices drifting down the hallway through the partially closed door. I stifled a yawn, and strained my ears to hear... but I was too tired to make out what was being said. I knew one of the voices belonged to Dr. Leslie, but I didn't recognize the other two. One was a man's voice though, with a distinct cultured English accent. The other was female. Young.

I really wanted to know what was going on, but I was exhausted... and try as I might, I could not keep my eyes open. The next thing I knew, a gentle hand was lightly shaking my shoulder. I looked up into the wan face of Dr. Leslie. I quickly sat up.

"Is Batman going to be alright? Will he make it?" I asked, almost afraid to hope.

"He... his condition is stable," Leslie said in a tired voice. "Only time will tell for sure. A friend is with him right now, monitoring his condition. I thought this would be a good time as any to get you a ride home. I've called for a taxi, they should be here soon."

"Oh," I said.

I tried not to, but I felt a little disappointed. I wanted to stay, to see for myself if Batman was going to pull through... but I knew that wasn't really possible. My part in this was done, there was nothing more for me to do. It was time for me to go home.

Leslie handed me a jacket to wear over my stained clothing, and led the way through the hallways of the darkened clinic. We exited the building through the back door; the same one we had helped the wounded Batman through just a few hours previously. Trash still littered the alley, but the Batmobile was now gone. Batgirl had taken it home, I supposed. I was too tired to ask, and Dr. Leslie offered no explanation.

We came to the curb, and stood there a few moments in silence. Dr. Leslie noticed the look on my face, and sighed in understanding. She put a hand on my shoulder.

"He'll be alright," she said. "Knowing how stubborn Batman is, he'll pull through. I'm sure of it. Now, let's get you home so you can rest." she finished, as a yellow cab came down the street, rolling to a stop in front of us.

"Hey lady, did ya call for a cab?" the cab driver called through the open passenger-side window. He yawned largely, and scratched at his chin through his scruffy black beard.

"Yes, I did," Leslie said in a voice which belied her exhaustion. "Please drive this young lady home. She will give you the address."

She reached in through the window and handed the driver something. Numbly, I realized that she had just paid for my cab, and I was too tired to object. Leslie then turned to me and placed a piece of paper in my hand. There was just enough light from the cab headlights to make out what it said. Dr. Leslie Thompkins it read, in bold italics; Her business card. Well, at least I finally knew her name...

"Call me if you need anything," she said, then turned and walked back down the alley, and into the clinic.

I stared at the clinic for a few moments, until the cab driver cleared his throat.

"Miss, this ain't no limo service," he said. "If ya wanna get home, pile in."

I nodded, and piled into the back seat. I gave him the address of my apartment building, and we were off down the road. I spent the remainder of the drive home in silence, and when I finally got home to my apartment, the first rays of dawn were just starting to seep through my window.

The new-dawn light seemed to make the night's events almost surreal; if it weren't for the bumps and bruises I had, I probably wouldn't believe what I'd just been through. I went into my bathroom to survey the damage; no broken bones as far as I could tell, but I probably needed an x-ray to make sure. I decided to do that later. Right then, all I wanted was a nice, hot shower, and some much needed sleep. I hoped Batman was alright, that he'd make it.

I wondered vaguely what he'd been doing in the warehouse alone, and what the Joker had been up to. I also wondered how Dr. Leslie Thompkins had come to be at the clinic so late at night, and how Batman knew her. But no answers were forthcoming. I sighed, and pushed my mental questions to the back of my mind. There were other matters that needed attending to. I turned the shower on, and removed my soiled clothing.

As I stepped into the shower, I briefly mourned the loss of my baseball bat; but I knew I could always get another one. Little did I realized the "ace" that I'd given the Joker, when I left it behind at the warehouse that night.

TBC in Chapter Two