Hi, everyone! I can't thank you enough for the love you guys are giving me for this story. For all you fellow Bane-iacs (see what I did there?), I'm sorry to inform you that he really doesn't appear in this chapter, either. There's a bit of Bruce Wayne, though! ;) I'm essentially trying to stay as true to the movie as I can remember it while adding Rebecca and her relationship with Bruce and Bane into the mix. I'm going to do my best to make sure he appears in the next chapter! As always, I appreciate any support or criticism you guys are willing to give! I hope you like it!

Rumors about the masked man began spreading through the streets. Not since The Joker's time had whispers about a criminal made me so nervous. They said he was impossibly strong. They said he couldn't be stopped.

When I heard that Commissioner Gordon had been hospitalized, I went to him as quickly as I could. He had been shot while investigating down in the sewers. I felt my stomach retch, and I knew that I was correct to be suspicious about the photos I had given Bruce Wayne. When I walked into Gordon's room, a weak smile appeared on his face.

"Miss Hartford. Good to see you, as always."

I sat down at the chair next to his bed. "You know you can call me Rebecca, Commissioner."

"Only if you call me Jim, like I have been asking you to do for years."

I smiled at him. "Okay, Jim. How are you feeling?"

"Oh, I'm surviving. What's really killing me is not being able to get back out there." I opened my mouth to give him a comforting reply, but he abruptly changed the subject. "Rebecca…the money I gave you all those years ago is almost gone by now, isn't it?"

I nodded glumly. "Yes. I know I said I'd pay you back, and I promise that I will do that….eventually. Things are tight right now."

"Sounds like you need to find some honest work." I felt like he was scolding me.

"Yes, sir. It's just that I got fired from my last job for being late too many times."

"Long nights out on the streets with your camera?"

"I'm not selling pictures to newspapers anymore," I quickly replied. "I have just been working on a project of my own."

"Taking pictures for Batman." I was caught off guard by that statement. I shoved aside the fake alibi I had planned to give him. I owed him the truth, anyway.

"Yes," I replied. "Well, not FOR him. I take pictures of Gotham, hoping that he will see how necessary to the city he is. I think we still need him."

"I couldn't agree more," Jim replied. He sat up slightly in his bed and adjusted his pillow before turning to me again, all playfulness gone from his expression. "How do you get him to see your pictures?"

My breath caught in my lungs. I had forgotten that Jim didn't know Batman's identity, and I figured that if Bruce Wayne wanted him to know, he would have told him. "I don't, " I lied. "That's the other part of my project. I am trying to find him."

"Unfortunately, my dear, I have to tell you that I stopped trying to figure out who he was years ago. If the Batman doesn't want to be found, then you won't be able to find him." I shifted uncomfortably at the lack of truth in that statement. I had discovered who he was 8 years ago, with the help of my camera. "I think you should focus on something else for the time being."

"Like what?" I asked, hoping he wasn't going to lecture me on the importance of having a real job.

"Well, it just so happens that I am in need of an assistant. I need someone to be my eyes and ears out in Gotham City while I am stuck in this dreary hospital room. I was wondering if you would do that for me. I would pay you wages."

The idea intrigued me, but I hesitated. "Look, Jim, I can't take any more money from you. You've done enough. I'd like to help you in any way I can, but I don't need to be paid for it."

"You can help me by letting me pay you. Please, Rebecca. You are the only one who understands the…uneasiness I am feeling. I assume you heard about Bane while you were out on the streets."

"Bane?" The name disoriented me. I could hear the rumors about him like whispers in my ears. It took a few seconds for my brain to return to its focus. "The masked man? Did you see him? Was he down in the sewers?"

"I saw him," Gordon replied. "I don't like to let myself be intimidated by the criminals that disgrace this city. But this man…he's different. I don't think we can be too careful."

I leaned forward, far too intrigued by this subject. I could feel my heart throbbing and grasped the rail of Jim's bed to steady myself. "What makes him different, sir?"

He studied me for a moment, perhaps disturbed by my reaction that I knew I wasn't hiding very well. "I watched him kill one of his own men without a second thought. Along with a disregard for humanity, he seems very calculated. I didn't get a good look around, but I fear he is working on something big."

I took in his information, and absentmindedly touched my camera while I wondered what Bane looked like. I looked over at my friend. Jim seemed legitimately frightened of this man. While I felt uncomfortable taking more money from him, it seemed wrong to turn down his plea for help. After all, he had given me a better life.

I made a quick decision. "I'll do it. I'll be your assistant. What should I do first?"

He smiled and reached out his hand for me to shake. "Excellent, Rebecca. Thank you. The first thing I need for you to do is attend a charity ball held by Miranda Tate. You can take my invitation. I only go to these things so I can keep my ears open for anything irregular. Since you have a knack for being in places you shouldn't be, I assume you might be able to pick up more secrets than I ever could."

"What am I listening for, sir?" Half of me was interested in his response. The girly side of me was already planning what I was going to wear to a high society ball.

"Anything," he replied. "After everything that's happened, I don't know who I can trust. I don't think Bane made it into Gotham on his own. If he had a banker, then that person will be at the ball. I don't expect you to find him, but I'm hoping there's a chance you might overhear some important information. Do you have a dress?"

I grimaced. I hadn't exactly been too responsible with Gordon's money in the past, and I had used it to splurge on a ball gown I had been eyeing for a month. "Yes, sir," I replied. "I'm sure I'll find something."

"Excellent," he settled back in his pillow and nodded at me. "Now, get to work!"

I left the hospital excited for what was to come, though also slightly nervous. I didn't want to let Jim down, but I feared he was overestimating me. Plus, I didn't exactly feel comfortable with the idea of snooping around among all of those rich people. Though, admittedly, I had snooped around in a rich man's business just a few nights ago. I smiled to myself as I thought of my encounter with Bruce Wayne. Maybe I would go see him again. After all, if he knew that Jim Gordon was afraid of Bane, maybe he'd take the matter seriously. Maybe, just maybe, I'd see Batman out on the streets before the week was out.

I was having second thoughts as I walked toward the building that Miranda Tate had rented out for the ball. The entryway was surrounded by paparazzi practically climbing over each other to get shots of the elite stepping out of their cars. I adjusted the straps of my emerald green ball gown and tried to appear determined as I reached them. As it turned out, I didn't need to look my best for them. Not one of them spared me a glance. I rolled my eyes and approached the doorman, reaching into my clutch for Jim's invitation.

The man didn't even look up as he held his clipboard at the ready. "Name?"

"Uh, Jim Gordon," I said awkwardly. The man looked up at me, one eyebrow arched. "He's, um..in the hospital, so he gave me his invitation." I felt myself blushing in discomfort as I meekly held up the piece of paper.

"Fair enough," the man said with a hint of sarcasm as he shooed me away. "Go in."

The fact that I was able to walk right in despite my suddenly poor social skills boosted my confidence slightly, and I held my head high as I made my way into the ballroom. A breathtaking crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, lighting up the figures of dozens of men and women sweeping across the dance floor. The room had a balcony level, from which many spectators watched the dancing couples. My eyes closed in on the seemingly endless spread of food, and it took a few minutes of staring in total awe before I realized what I was supposed to be doing.

I gripped my clutch tightly. Leaving my camera behind was a hard thing to do, but I figured it might arouse suspicion or prevent me from getting into the ball. A waiter carrying flutes of champagne walked by, and I took two, quickly downing them both. "Just need to calm my nerves," I thought to myself. I decided my best bet was to head up to the balcony to get a good look at things and see if I recognized anybody. I quickly drank another champagne for luck and headed up the steps. It didn't take long for me to find a familiar face. When I reached the top of the stairs, I couldn't prevent myself from grinning.

Bruce Wayne was standing there, nonchalantly leaning over the balcony. His eyes were following the people dancing, so he didn't notice me hesitating just a few feet beside him. I couldn't decide whether or not it would be appropriate of me to approach him, so I simply stood there, dumbfounded. He looked good. His face was clean-shaven, and he stood up straight without a cane. However, though his worn out appearance was gone, the weary look in his eye remained. I wondered what could be troubling him. I decided to leave him be—for a little while, anyway—and turned to go back downstairs, when I felt him touch my arm.

"I didn't expect to see you here, " he said, and I turned around to face him.

"I could say the same to you, Mr. Wayne," I replied, and I was amazed at how calm and cool I sounded.

"Please, call me Bruce," he said, giving the trademark Bruce Wayne smile that would have made me gag back when I thought he was just another stuck-up billionaire.

"Well, Bruce, what made you decide to grace Gotham with your presence again?" He was still touching my arm.

"I discovered that I had some business I need to attend to," he said, finally releasing me. "Plus, the view is a lot nicer out here."

My smile widened, and I bit my bottom lip, letting his compliment sink in. "Bruce," I said playfully, "I was under the impression that you weren't too fond of me. " I felt myself leaning toward him. The champagne was affecting me more than I had intended, and I silently cursed at myself for not eating enough that day. I couldn't let a little champagne blur my senses. I was supposed to be eavesdropping for Jim.

Bruce seemed amused by my tipsiness. "I never said that," he replied. "I said I didn't trust you. Those are two different things."

I pouted. "I wish I could change that."

"Maybe you can," he said quietly. "Are you free to stop by my place tomorrow afternoon? I have a lot of questions for you."

I examined Bruce's brown eyes, and silently wished that I had brought my camera with me. He was a tortured soul, one so beautiful that I was amazed I hadn't known who he really was the first time I saw him. I snapped myself out of my dreamlike state, remembering again the reason I had come to this ball. I didn't want to report back to Jim with nothing but thoughts of Bruce Wayne.

I took a step back and nodded. "Yes, I can do that. But for now, I should go. See you tomorrow, Bruce."

"You never told me what you were doing here," he replied, and I gave him one last smile.

"I'm here on behalf of a mutual friend." With that, I turned and headed back down the stairs. I was tempted to reward myself with more champagne, but I shook that thought of my mind. I had a real task at hand. I made my way through the groups of people with newfound resolve, keeping my ears open for anything out of the ordinary.

I meandered around the party for an hour or so, accepting an offer to dance every once and a while. After a time, I became exhausted, and I decided that the cause was hopeless. Any shady business going on in the high society world must have been going on behind closed doors. I gave in to one final glass of champagne and headed for the door.

The fresh air smelled wonderful, and despite having failed to acquire any useful information for Jim, I felt light as a feather. I walked right past my car, knowing that I was in no state to drive home. I took off my heels and headed for my apartment, wishing I had sneaked some of that champagne out of the ball somehow. As I waited to cross the street, a car pulled up and stopped near where I was standing. I could hear someone approaching it quickly from behind me, and I turned so I could determine whether or not I was in his way. Unfortunately, I had taken a step in the wrong direction, and I smacked right into a short man wearing a simple black suit. He looked vaguely familiar, like I had seen him before in the newspaper. I opened my mouth to apologize, and he simply shoved around me and got in the car, rapidly talking on his cell phone.

Suddenly, I didn't feel tipsy anymore. I felt ice cold, and the abrupt shock of it prevented me from moving. "Bane." I had heard it, clear as could be. The man had said his name, just as he was closing the car door. I knew I wasn't mistaken. I felt numb. The car had driven away by the time the shock wore off. I turned around and looked in the direction it had headed, but it was nowhere in sight. My only scrap of evidence had turned the corner and headed somewhere unknown, leaving me with nothing to hold on to but the fear that was rapidly growing inside of me.