Fire of Hope

Rachel Dawes, Batman, Ely Nunne and Bruce Wayne

Why did she still insist on meeting her sources in person? It was a question Rachel always pondered when she traversed the still treacherous back streets of Gothem. To her, it seemed that for every criminal that Batman found and put behind bars there were a dozen other, more dangerous madmen waiting in the wings.

Today's visit to the Narrows was in aid of needing information for trying to prosecute the crime lord MacKennick. The man claimed to be untouchable but she'd be damned if he got off on a technicality again. Not that she classed the last time a 'technicality'. The murder of the key witness was still under investigation and was one of the many reasons she was now hiking through the scariest part of the city.

Bruce had to be going soft. That's what Ely decided as he watched the woman get out of her car. She had a purse tucked under her arm and a tazar gun in her free hand. The old man had told him to keep an eye on her, said she was important in the fight against the darkness, but Ely couldn't help seeing the wistful look in his eyes when he'd mentioned the DA's name. It seemed there was a history between Bruce and this Rachel Dawes.

As she stepped into the darkness of an allyway, Batman swooped after her, always keeping her in view. He could already see that someone was waiting for her but whether that person was who she'd been expecting or not was exactly why Batman was there. Soundlessly, he landed on the rooftop that gave him the best view of the exchange.

Rachel sensed the person before she saw them. Squinting into the darkness, she stepped forward despite all of her instincts to run away as quickly as she could. "Arnold?" she called softly.

There was a deep, rumbling chuckle in the shadows that rose the hairs on the back of her neck. "Arnie couldn't make it, sweetheart," a laughing voice said as she felt someone come up behind her. "He's sent a sick note, asked to be excused from lessons today."

Something was thrown at her, large and round, and when she glanced down she saw the head of her source, his glassy eyes staring up at her in perpetual torture with a grimacing, constricted smile on his face. She screamed as she dropped it, jumping back and right into a warm wall of a man behind her.

"Ever danced with the Devil in the pale moonlight?" the voice purred.

Okay so this chick was going to be trouble. Ely had already figured that out but now he knew for sure that it wasn't going to be a smooth, easy night for him. In one bounding leap, he swooped down off of the rooftop, taking out two guys who'd been hiding in the shadows even before he hit the ground. With dark determination, he grabbed the one holding the woman, yanking him back and receiving a blow to his chin for the trouble.

In one bright moment, Rachel looked up as the man in the shadows smashed a small explosive on the ground. The flash lit up his face, revealing a hauntingly familiar white face make-up with red lipstick and green hair. She gasped as smoke enveloped him. Rushing forward, she groped around in the darkness, her ears filling with the signature high-pitched cackling of the Joker.

As he finished dealing with the remaining attackers, all Ely could think was that he'd killed that son of a bitch. He remembered shooting the piece of shit in the head and watching him bleed out, surprised that he didn't bleed purple like his suit and tie. No one came back from that kind of injury, not even Lex Luthor could regenerate himself like that, and someone as fucked up as the Joker certainly couldn't. Spinning around, he found himself alone with the woman so he started to back away. She reached out a hand to stop him but he only paused for a moment.

"Thanks, Bruce," Rachel said softly as she lifted her eyes to Batman's. There was a moment of disorientation when the eyes she met weren't the ones she'd expected. "Only... you're not Bruce..." Her grip on Batman's arm tightened. "Who are you?"

In a deep voice that did nothing to hide his drawl, Ely said, "A friend." He slipped out of her grip and launched himself for the fire escape above them, swinging onto it then the next and the next until he disappeared.

Rachel bit her lip as she weaved her way back to her car. It was probably only her imagination but she felt as if she had this strange Batman's eyes on her the whole time, even once she pulled out of the Narrows and back into Gothem proper. It hadn't been Bruce... She couldn't begin to understand but as she drove, she found herself beginning to hope something that she'd given up on a long time ago. When she found herself outside the gates to Wayne Manor, she knew she had to see him, had to see if her Bruce Wayne had finally come home.

A long time ago, it felt like a lifetime ago, she'd told Bruce that she loved him but she would never be with him until he set aside the mantel of Batman. She'd said that Bruce Wayne was the mask and Batman his true face. But if he'd given the Dark Knight's mission over to another, maybe, just maybe, he'd left the old vendetta behind. The drive up to the home of her childhood friend seemed miles longer than it ever had before except that one last time when she'd driven away from him. As she stepped out of her car, she felt like she was in a dream, drifting up to the door and ringing the bell.

"I'll get it, Alfred," Bruce called from halfway down the main staircase. "No point disturbing old bones when I'm already there." It was an old tease but it was also true. His old butler was definitely getting on and it hurt Bruce to think that he might not be around much longer. Bouncing up to the door, he swung it open and froze. "Rachel..."

Now those were Bruce Wayne's eyes, as big and worried as they looked. "Hey Bruce," she said softly. "Can I come in?"

"Sure..." What was it about Rachel Dawes that made the elegant, gruff billionaire act like a fumbling school boy? "Long time."

She wandered in then stopped in the middle of the foyer, put her hands on her hips and stared at him, hard. "You mean rather than the ten minutes it took me to drive up from the Narrows to here?"

"Ten minutes?" He blinked then sagged slightly. "You got into trouble, didn't you?" Damnit, Ely, I told you not to do anything to let her on.

Her cheeks flushed but she didn't give up on her own indignation. "You look particularly rested for a man who just saw off half a dozen attackers, Bruce."

Running a hand through his hair, Bruce sighed deeply. "That would be because I didn't and you know I didn't. Let's stop playing games, we're both too old for that. What d'you want, Rachel?"

She kept staring at him but her eyes softened. When had he become so old? "I just... Nothing, Bruce... I just wanted to be sure. Who was he?"

Ely pulled the Bat Mobile into its space and waited for the platform to lift it into the Bat Cave. He was already pulling his mask and gloves off when the top popped open to let him out. Memories of the Joker filled his mind as he stripped out of his suit and headed for the shower. He'd killed him, his body had gone for autopsy then burial. Now Ely was doubting if it ever actually reached the coroner's table. He needed to tell Bruce then check it all out.

It took him two minutes to shower and dress, a habit picked up from his time on the street when a person had to be quick about everything. Taking the stairs two at a time for the manor, he swung into the hallway out of the silver closet and almost straight into Bruce and that damn woman from the Narrows.

A smirk crossed Rachel's face as she held up a hand to stop Bruce from stuttering. "Question answered." Turning to the boy, she offered him her hand. "Rachel Dawes, Senior District Attorney."

"And a pain in the butt lady who likes to go into dark, dangerous places by herself," Ely finished for her as he took the hand. "We met."

"Not formally. Do I get a name for the man behind the mask or are you the big secret Bruce is making you out to be?"

Ely glanced at the old man and outright laughed. "She got you tongue-tied, old man," he chuckled. "Name's Elias Nunne. I don't know how you knew who Batman was but I guess it ain't the end of the world that you still do."

"You know, Elias," Rachel mused ruefully, "if you want people to think you're Bruce then you need to work on that accent. It just doesn't fit the Dark Knight's persona."

Shrugging easily, Ely shook his head, his long blonde wet hair catching his face. "One day, the bad guys of Gothem won't even remember Batman not havin' an accent."

"Good observation," she mused. Brown eyes full of warmth flicked from the boy to Bruce. "You know something, Bruce?"

He was getting defensive and he knew it but that didn't stop him from grunting and folding his arms. "What?" he said, glaring at her.

"You look more relaxed than I've seen you since your parents died," she said with a laugh at him _expression_. "It suits you."

Bruce felt a blush crawl up his cheeks but he smiled at Rachel. Forgetting momentarily that Ely was there, he reached out to touch her cheek and brush it with his long fingers. "It's been a long road to relaxing this much. But I trust the kid, Batman's in good hands. I don't have to worry about the criminals of Gothem any more."

Those words flooded the spark of hope in Rachel's heart with oxygen and she smiled brightly. "Welcome home, Bruce," she said softly as she leaned into his touch. "I've missed you."