She was laying the cement floor, bent and broken and half dead. It would have been easy to tie some hasty bandages and carry her where the ambulance would find her first. But there was something in the way her eyes were searching the dimly lit warehouse, something in the way she was reaching weakly away from her body, towards him.

Batman bent in one smooth motion and picked her up, holding her against his chest. She reached up with one hand, weakly touching the ears of his cowl. Her hand trailed softly down his bare chin, resting against his chest. If his armor hadn't been so thick, she could have felt his heartbeat.

"I waited for you," she whispered. "I knew you were coming."

He was silent as he carried her out of the building, amidst the anguished cries of the men who realized that they were now damned, the scent of motor oil and old fish. She somehow smelled faintly of a light flowery perfume.

One arm dangled at an awkward angle, broken at the elbow. She whimpered when he carried her down the steps. Robin poked his head out of the car, his eyes going wide.

"I didn't know we were bringing souvenirs." he said dryly. Batman just narrowed his eyes, settling the girl in his partner's lap.

"There are bandages in the glove box. See about her head, she cut her scalp at some point." he threw the car in drive as the sirens began to get close. The girl seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness.

"I wanted to fly." she said softly, clutching Robin's gloved wrist with her good hand. "That was all. He promised."

"No one can make you fly." he shook his head. Batman only pressed on the gas.

"He could have." the girl insisted, her eyes drifting shut. Robin pressed some gauze to her scalp, frowning when it came up red.

"She needs stitches. And her arm set. And maybe a detox, there was an awful lot of crystal in there. Who is she, anyway? She looks so young to be a junkie." when Batman didn't respond, he only sighed. "I guess they start younger and younger."

"She's not on crystal. Look at her face. She hasn't picked at it, and she has all her teeth." he turned into the Batcave.

"Who is she?" the younger man pressed.

"I'm not sure," Batman admitted.

"Master Bruce, I'm afraid that Master Dick is quite correct!" Alfred cried when Batman carried the girl to the infirmary. "She's half dead."

"Resurrect her then." he gave a slight smirk. "I know how to do stitches, it's only her arm I'm afraid about. Perhaps we need to call Leslie."

"Doctor Thompkins will wring your neck for even moving her." the majordomo scolded, brushing her hair back from her face. Her eyes fluttered open.

"Where am I?"

"Quite safe, Miss..." he trailed off.

"Molly,"

"Miss Molly. You're in good hands. Rest quietly." he bustled about, collecting various instruments for Bruce, who was still wearing his costume. Robin had slinked away to go and call Leslie in the meantime.

She closed her eyes as her hair, slick and sticky with her blood, was parted and the needle entered her scalp, pulling the wound closed. She hissed, her fist clutching handfuls off the snowy sheets.

"I am ruining your sheets."

"There's bleach," Alfred reassured her. Batman then wrapped her arm in a crude sling and helped her sit up to wait for the doctor.

"I've set the arm and sedated her. Bruce, you really can't bring home any more strays." she sighed, patting her graying hair back into a bun. "She's in pretty bad shape. She's malnourished. Who is she?"

"I found her in the last bust of Two-Face's cronies." he said darkly. "She didn't look like she belonged there."

"No, she certainly doesn't. She isn't an addict. She isn't a gangster girl. Why, Bruce, if it wasn't for the injuries, she could be an ordinary girl, one of Dick's class mates, even. What did you say her name was?"

"We've only gotten a Molly out of her. Dick's running the missing children database. Someone must be looking for. How long will she be asleep? Long enough to be moved? I can't leave her down here forever."

"You can move her as soon as you're ready for her." Leslie made to exit. "Make sure she has an appointment in a few days so I can x-ray her arm and check for healing."

"Molly? Molly Carpenter?" her eyes fluttered open. She was propped up in what must have been the most gorgeous bed she'd ever seen.

"Yes, yes that's me." she squirmed, away of the unfamiliar nightgown, of the unfamiliar scent of the detergent in the crisp bedding. It was a wonder she'd gotten any sleep, as strange as these surroundings were.

"Good!" a vaguely familiar man was setting a tray on the heavy bedside table, with a delicate tea cup, a lovely thin china plate, and some of the most delectable looking muffins that Molly had ever seen.
"Master Bruce will be in to look on you momentarily, Miss Carpenter."

"Molly." she said softly, looking curiously at her broken arm. "Please, can you call me Molly?"

"I will try and remember." he stepped back from her bed. "Drink you tea before it gets cold. I thought that black would be too strong for you and green too bitter. I thought some chamomile was just right. Good for the soul."

"Yes, well... Might I ask you to refresh me memory-." she trailed off and sighed. She reached up and touched her hair, cringing at the harsh feeling of the stitches, the crunch of her still bloody hair.

"Sir. I don't know who you are. I don't know who Master Bruce is. I don't understand where I am or just what happened."

"Master Bruce, Master Bruce WAYNE," Alfred stressed. "Will be able to explain. I promise. Drink your tea." she almost instantly reached for the cup, enjoying the warmth that penetrated the china and spread across her hand. She sipped quietly, contemplating the blueberry muffin when there was a knock on the door.

"Come in?" she called uncertainly. A tall man with dark hair and eyes and a distinguished chin stepped in, tugging at the sleeves of his shirt.

"Miss Carpenter?"

"Molly!" she sighed. The man seemed to jump a bit. She shook her head. "I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be rude. Miss Carpenter is my mother. My name is Molly. Please, call me Molly."

"Molly, then. I'm Bruce Wayne. How are you feeling?"

"Confused." she squirmed on the bed. "What happened to my arm? Where am I, exactly? Is that sugar on that muffin?"

"It is sugar," he crossed the room and broke off a piece of the hot treat for her, watching her pop it into her mouth. "Alfred always puts extra on top. Dick Grayson, my ward, likes them that way."

"Right," she chewed and swallowed.

"Molly, I have to ask you some difficult questions." he arranged himself in a delicate ladies' sitting chair tucked away in a corner by the window. The sunlight came streaming in on him. It was a wonderful portrait, Molly thought. Would have been nice to draw.

"I think you have some to answer, too."

"Probably." he smiled a bit. "Do you know a man named Two Face?" she looked at him blankly.

"Not like, personally. I mean, I've seen him on television and in the paper, but I don't, you know go out to coffee or anything..." she trailed off, her cheeks going pink.

"So you had no idea what was going on in that warehouse you were in last night?"

"I went there with a friend. He said we were just going in for a minute. I knew it was a bad place. I didn't understand what was going on until the Batman came in. There were people yelling and there were the guns going off." she swallowed. "I don't know what happened after that. Did Two Face have something to do with it?"

"Well, I'm not entirely sure. Batman brought you here, and I had your arm set. You must have been clipped in the head. I suppose you might have fallen or someone grabbed your arm. The men that were surrounding you wouldn't likely thinking twice about hurting a young lady." she gave him a tiny smile. "May I check your stitches?"

Molly bowed her head. In the filtered sunlight, through the filth and blood, he could see she had black hair, and the most startling green eyes he had ever seen. He checked his own handiwork, satisfied she wouldn't pop them.

"Was someone looking for you, Molly?"

"Looking for me?" she repeated weakly. She rubbed the side of her neck, her arm tracing down her sling.

"I hadn't been home in a few days, no."

"Why not?" Bruce prodded gently. Her mouth worked a few times.

"My mom and I had a fight. I was going to go home tomorrow." she said quickly. "I just needed a little breathing room. I called Mom, she knew where I was. Well, not last night, but she knew where I was staying. Is she looking for me?"

"She called the police last night when you didn't call to let her know where you were. She was worried. Alfred has called to tell her where you are and that you're MOSTLY in one piece." he eyed her arm.

"Is she coming for me?"

"Tomorrow. The doctor I had look at you wanted you to stay in one place." she squirmed in the bed again. Bruce ripped her off another piece of muffin. "But you look awfully hungry for someone who's only been gone a few days."

"I may not have eaten before hand. Being mad ruins my appetite." she said flippantly. Bruce shook his head as he walked out of the room.