"Hey, Reese, what's your poison tonight?" the young, cute bartender asked as she withdrew a tumbler from under the bar.

The haggard looking accountant slumped onto a stool and said, "I guess nothing, Lizzie. I just got mugged. Took my wallet and my cell phone. The guy looked like he was going to kill me, but then he just ran away."

Lizzie just nodded and poured him a full glass of single-malt scotch and placed the bar's phone on the bar in front of him. "Call your credit card companies, then drink up. I'll make sure you get a cab home. Okay, Cole?"

A slight smile crept onto the young man's lips. "You're the greatest, Lizzie," he told her.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," she said nonchalantly.

She spent the next hour or so refilling the few customer's drinks and escorting some of them to waiting taxis. Cole Reese took full advantage of her generosity and downed nearly half the bottle of scotch before Lizzie gave out her last call.

GCN's late-night news show started spewing information about Bruce Wayne's latest escapade as news. Lizzie just rolled her eyes and said, "Who cares what that stuck-up jerk does?"

Cole looked up at her, bleary-eyed, but still lucid. "You shouldn't say things like that, Lizzie," he told her. "Bruce Wayne's a good man."

"How do you figure?"

"Well, he's Batman," Cole answered, as though it should have been obvious.

Lizzie's eyes widened. There were still about a dozen people in the bar, and by the looks on their faces, they'd all heard him. She forced a smile and grabbed the glass from his hand. "Okay, Coley," she said, "I think you've had enough."

"I'm not drunk, Lizzie!" he protested loudly.

"Yes, you are," she muttered to him. "It's okay, folks, just go home."

Most people took her word for it, but one rather large man remained behind.

"Alright, Coley, I'm taking you home," she told him as she walked around the bar.

"I can hail a cab myself," he answered defiantly, standing up before collapsing in a heap on the ground.

Lizzie sighed as she knelt down next to him. She spied the large man coming toward her out of the corner of her eye as she attempted to haul Cole to his feet.

"I'm sorry, we're closed," she said without looking back.

"I don't think so, Sweetheart."

Lizzie rolled her eyes and stood up. It was two-thirty in the morning. She really didn't need this. She turned and faced the man, her hands on her hips.

"I told you we're closed. I'm not going to tell you again."

The large man grunted a laugh. "I'm not here for you, but you could be fun."

He pushed her against the bar, knocking several glasses and a couple of barstools to the ground. Coleman Reese roused from his stupor enough to start backing away.

Ignoring the pain steadily growing in her back, Lizzie looked the thug in the eye and said, "Would it interest you to know that the police commissioner is my godfather?"

The thug shook his head and answered, "Gordon doesn't scare me."

"Do I?"

The calm, gruff voice sent almost as many shivers up Lizzie's spine as sight of Gotham's most infamous masked citizen. The thug's momentary distraction gave her enough time to throw her fist across his face. She didn't really see what happened next, but the thug was apparently something of a match for the Batman. She cringed as each table collapsed and glasses shattered on the floor.

"It's him! It's him!" Cole cried as Lizzie dragged him to his feet.

"Yeah, yeah," she hollered back over the commotion. "It's Bruce Wayne. I heard you the first time."

She shoved the drunken accountant into the broom closet and fitted the nearest chair under the knob, effectively locking him in. She turned around to see the bar in a shambles, and Batman standing over the thug's motionless body. He looked over at her.

"He'll be fine. You should call the police."

"Wait," she said, keeping the Dark Knight in place. "I know what you did."

Batman kept his eyes down. "Anyone who reads the paper knows what I did."

Lizzie shook her head. "No, they don't. I know you took the fall for Harvey Dent."

She saw something resembling shock in those dark eyes. "How?" was all he asked.

Smiling, she said, "I wasn't blowing smoke about being Jim Gordon's goddaughter."

"I know."

"Of course you do," she said allowing her eyes to roll. "I babysit Jimmy Gordon, and he's honest, just like his dad."

"Freeze!"

Batman swooped out of the room causing the officer to discharge her weapon several times before he was gone completely.

"Jesus! Ramirez, stop it!" Lizzie shouted.

Ramirez ignored her and called in the sighting of Batman. Lizzie glared at the dirty cop in front of her. "He saved my life, Ramirez," she insisted with her arms crossed over her chest.

A clatter from the broom closet caught both women's attention. Lizzie smiled sheepishly, "Batman saved his life, too."

Cole fell out of the closet as soon as she opened the door. He was muttering something about what a stand-up guy Bruce Wayne was as Lizzie draped one of his arms around her shoulders and hauled him to his feet. She was grateful he wasn't that much bigger than her.

"That your panic room?" Ramirez asked snidely.

Lizzie just glared at her.

"You stuff all your customers in the closet?" Ramirez continued.

"They were after me," Cole insisted.

"What?"

"Shut up, Cole," Lizzie hissed.

"Why?" Ramirez asked the inebriated man.

"Because I know the truth about Batman," Cole explained.

"Coley, shut up," Lizzie told him.

"But I know who he is," Cole said, looking at her.

"Coleman, please," Lizzie begged him.

"Who is he?" Ramirez asked eagerly.

"Why the hell do you want to know, Ramirez?" Lizzie asked her angrily.

The officer's brow furrowed in confusion. "Catching Batman is a top priority for the department," she answered.

"Really?" Lizzie asked incredulously, throwing off Cole's arm and moving toward Ramirez threateningly. "Because I think you're just asking for your little mob buddies."

Ramirez' face hardened. "I'm a cop, Miss Daniels," she insisted.

"A cop?" Lizzie screamed causing Cole to stumble back into a chair. "You don't know the first thing about being a cop, Ramirez!"

"And you do?"

"You're damn-straight I do!" Lizzie fired back. "My father gave up his life protecting trash like you. You don't deserve that shield. Harvey Dent should have left you in a ditch with Weurtz."

"Elizabeth!"

Both women froze at the sound of James Gordon's voice. Cole smiled brightly and said, "Hey, Commissioner, it's good to see you again."

Gordon eyed the drunken man in the corner incredulously. "I wish I could say the same, Mr. Reese," he answered. "You can go, Ramirez."

"You should stay gone," Lizzie muttered as the woman walked past her.

"What did you say to me?" Ramirez yelled, turning around angrily.

The commissioner held her back and shouted, "Out, Ramirez, now!"

The woman shook off Gordon's arms and stomped out of the bar. Gordon turned his angry gaze on his goddaughter. "That's called provoking an officer of the law. That's a crime, you know."

"You call that murdering bitch an officer of the law?"

"She never murdered anyone."

"No, she just allowed a sociopath in clown make-up to blow up a district attorney."

Gordon looked back at Reese, concern etched on his face. Lizzie shook her head. "He's drunk off his ass, Uncle Jim. He's not going to hear your dirty little secret," she told him. "What are you even doing here? Aunt Barbara's going to kill you."

"I was on my way home when I heard the call," Gordon explained.

"You were on your way home at two-thirty in the morning?"

Gordon ignored her query and said, "I thought you were going to quit this job, Lizzie."

She crossed her arms defensively. "Maybe I like tending bar."

Gordon put his hands in his pockets thoughtfully and said, "You didn't get the job at Gotham Prep, did you?"

Lizzie reached for a broom and started sweeping the floor. Gordon jerked the broom from her hands and said, "This is a crime scene, Elizabeth. Answer the question."

She shook her head, tears forming in her eyes. "They require tenure and Gotham Public isn't exactly big on the arts, and I've got to be able to pay the rent to stay out of The Narrows, so I'm still here; tending bar."

Gordon shook his head. "Lizzie, you know you can stay with us."

"I don't need you and your promotion to support me, Uncle Jim," she answered snidely.

"Lizzie," he said compassionately, "you're like a daughter to me. Don't act like this."

She rolled her eyes and went over to Cole. Gently, she pulled him to his feet, and said, "I can take care of myself, Uncle Jim. And right now, I've got to take care of this guy."

Gordon motioned toward the unconscious thug on the floor. "You take care of this too?"

She paused at the door and looked back at him. "No, Batman took care of that," she answered. "Apparently, he actually gives a damn about the people who used to protect him."

He became stony-faced at her remarks. He only half-listened to Coleman Reese's drunken speech about what a good guy Batman was. It was all true, though. Batman didn't deserve to be hunted. He deserved a parade. And even as the police commissioner, there was nothing he could do about it.

--

Wayne Manor still looked an absolute mess for the most part. None of the interiors were finished in the larger rooms. The southeast corner of the house was in pristine condition, however. It was necessary to conceal what lay beneath. A few of the bedrooms were finished as well, and Alfred could tell Bruce Wayne hadn't been in his bed yet that night. He tapped the keys on the new piano and slipped into the hidden elevator.

When he reached the Batcave, which now resembled something more like a dentist's surgery, he saw his young master nursing a wound along his ribcage. He was attempting to stitch the wound without looking at it.

"May I assist you, Master Wayne?" Alfred asked as he took the needle and thread.

"Since you already are," Bruce answered.

"Was it a criminal or a police officer that did this to you?" Alfred asked as he plunged the needle into Bruce's skin.

Bruce winced and said, "It was Detective Ramirez, or Officer Ramirez. I guess Gordon demoted her. The bullet grazed me in just the right place, or wrong place depending on how you look at it."

"I'd say wrong place," Alfred said as he snipped the string and tied it off. "You shouldn't be going out, affairs being such as they are."

"It was Coleman Reese," Bruce explained as he got up and reached for a t-shirt. "The mob wants him. They want to know who I am. And they decided to go after him in the bar where Gordon's goddaughter works. Their hit man was going to rape her and probably kill her."

"But why?"

A slight smile graced the billionaire's lips. "She's too stubborn to know when to stand aside."

"You admire this quality?"

"Of course," Bruce said, grimacing as he pulled the t-shirt over his head. "Gotham needs more people to stand up and do the right thing."

"What are you going to do about Mr. Reese?"

"I'll think about it in the morning," Bruce answered. "Right now, I just want to go to sleep."

"Of course, Master Wayne."

As Bruce lay in his large bed alone, his thoughts drifted to Elizabeth Daniels. She was a Gotham native, and had only left the city for a couple of years to get her master's in musical theatre from New York University. And then she came right back and tried to find a job teaching at Gotham Public Schools. She was loyal and devoted, just like her godfather. She was also spunky. Bruce liked that. It reminded him of his dear friend, Rachel. He loved Rachel. Maybe he could love Lizzie Daniels too.

Bruce grunted and rolled over as he dismissed that idea. The people he loved died. They always had, even before he put on the cape and cowl. Maybe he was cursed. Whatever the reason, he couldn't visit death on the goddaughter of James Gordon.

--

Lizzie Daniels didn't normally get to bed until the sun was rising, and that night was no exception. Coleman Reese was sleeping off his drunkenness on her couch in her dingy apartment, as she stared into her computer screen. She was fairly certain Bruce Wayne wasn't Batman, but Cole wasn't nuts, and he at least deserved to have his story checked out.

Batman caused a lot of damage in the pursuit of justice, which most people didn't mind because no one ever got killed, and a horrific criminal was usually taken off the streets because of it. Various charities generally paid for all the damage, even the damage to private citizens. In researching these various charities, she discovered that Bruce Wayne was either a major contributor or on the board of each one. It was a major coincidence, but not necessarily evidence.

She glanced at Cole. He was sound asleep. She rummaged through his jacket pockets until she found a flash drive. She plugged it into her laptop and waited for the screen to load. She found a file labeled 'tumbler' and clicked on it. Information on various R & D projects from Wayne Enterprises appeared. A few Lizzie recognized from the news. Most she didn't think were even possible. One in particular, however, caught her eye. It was Batman's vehicle; the Batmobile as some Gothamites called it. It's code name was The Tumbler, and its designer was Lucius Fox, the present CEO of Wayne Enterprises.

Further research revealed that Lucius Fox sat on the Board of Directors of Wayne Enterprises while Thomas Wayne was alive. He even helped build the city's monorail. If there was anyone at Wayne Enterprises Bruce Wayne would trust after his mysterious seven year absence, it was Lucius Fox.

And then there was the matter of Wayne's disappearance. Nobody had any clue where he went, at all. And when he came back, he wasn't the dour, serious young man who had left, but a typical, spoiled billionaire. Something happened. Something huge, and no one knew what it was, and Bruce Wayne was certainly not offering any answers. And Batman started lurking around a matter of weeks after Wayne returned. The coincidences were starting to stack up.

To top it all off, Coleman Reese was ready to go on the news and tell the whole world the true identity of Batman. His plan backfired and he nearly had all of Gotham ready to take his life at the behest of the Joker. The Joker's plan almost worked too, had it not been for the 'accidental' intervention of Bruce Wayne and his Lamborghini. The evidence was almost staggering.

She went to the hall closet and pulled a box down from the top shelf. She opened it, and fingered her father's revolver before replacing it in the box. She hooked his badge onto her jeans and grabbed the handcuffs before putting the box back on the top shelf of the closet. She slapped one on Cole's exposed wrist, rousing him from his sleep.

"What the-hey, I didn't do anything!" he protested as Lizzie cuffed both his hands behind his back.

"That's a matter of opinion, Coley," she told him. "And the next time you decide to drunkenly start spouting the identity of Batman; lie."