I'm backkkkkkk!

As she walked into the office that morning, she should have known what her coworkers would say to her. Or rather what they'd tease her with.

"There she is," Kate smirked.

"Bed broken yet?" Carly, a young intern, asked. Carrie shot her a glare.

All Andrew did was giver her a quiet cat call.

Brenda was perched in her usual position, watching Carrie make her way to her desk across from hers. Glasses on her nose, the woman's eyes glanced speculatively up at hers. "How the hell are you not walking funny?"

Plopping down on her chair and eyes to the floor, Carrie muttered, "Shut up."

"Sorry, Carebear, no can do. In all my years of working with your tight wound ass, never once have you taken a personal day off if you weren't forced to. Now, how do you expect me to react when your boyfriend calls about you not coming in? You don't need to lie. I know what happened."

Carrie lost her patience. She slammed her water bottle onto her desk, gaining not only the attention of Brenda, but half of the office as well. As quietly as she could, she spoke, "You don't know what happened, okay? Maybe I just wanted to have one damn day alone with him and away from all the rest of the crap in this city. Maybe I just needed to relax. Maybe I just wanted to forget all the bad stuff that's happening around us. Maybe I just…" she trailed off, a hand coming to rest on her forehead as she took a deep breath. "Sorry," she apologized.

"Damn," Brenda murmured under her breath. "Wish I could still get that angry. It always did make my marriage a little more spicy." She winked at Carrie earning her a scowl. "Oh, come on, now, I was just joking. Learn to laugh, you look better that way."

Rolling her eyes, Carrie booted up the laptop in front of her. "Because that makes everything better."

"You know what, sweetie," Brenda told her seriously, "It's hard to find things to laugh about these days. When you have a chance to do it, you should."

The hot-head sighed, blankly stared at her computer, knowing that what was just said to her was true, just not wanting to admit it. Her day off must've made her soft. She needed to shake off Brenda's comment, start a new topic – something not heart heavy – and go back to not really caring what was going on outside of work. But she couldn't. Not with everything John had been telling her about. Or more rather, what he hadn't been.

"You all right there?" Brenda asked, drawing her out of her thoughts.

"Yeah, yeah," Carrie nodded, "Just thinking."

Typing away on her computer, the woman asked, "You hear about that big shooting last night?"

Of course she would bring that up. "Yeah, I was up when it happened. John was on duty last night."

"He okay?"

"He will be. He knows what he's doing." She didn't elaborate anymore. Brenda, as well as everyone in the office, knew that she hated talking about his career. Never have, never will.

Brenda became quiet, and soon afterwards the day became taking its normal course. It was nice, to have a sense of security and sureness. Coming in from an unstable night was never an easy accomplishment – she'd done it multiple times coming from her mother's doctors appointments or from a sleepless night without John – but the comfort that this job gave her was like none other. Leave the outside world at the door is what her father always told her, and she'd be damned if she didn't try to.

She was practically kicked out of the office at 5, kicking and screaming in her adult way. Knowing that John wouldn't be home, she had spent as much time as she could stalling upstairs, even going as far to shred some of the old files – a job that everyone knew she loathed. So when Dave came sauntering out of his office and to her desk, hands on his hips, she knew that she was done for.

In her car, she made the split second decision to make a trip to her parents house, accidently cutting off another driver as she made a sharp left (she ignored his honk and middle finger). It had been a couple weeks since she had last seen them, and with her mom's condition worsening, she knew that her visits should really be becoming more frequent.

They welcomed her with open arms, and she was surprised to see Cameron on the couch as well. At 17, she would have been out drinking or hanging with her friends, but maybe that was just her. Her little brother was always a bit on the reserved side.

Carrie was able to waste a couple hours there, once again forgetting what was happening outside and solely focusing on all the stories her family had for her. Cameron had gone all out asking his girlfriend to homecoming, her mom and dad were planning a trip to Ireland next summer, and – apparently – Camille had told their parents she was expecting again. Whether or not that was true, who knows. Dinner was good and her glass of wine was God sent, as usual, and with a content stomach and a calmer mind, she exited the house and was on the road by 8:30. With Frank in the CD slot and the windows cracked an inch, she was cruising along into the city with no traffic and a very happy lead foot.

As she entered the west side of the city, however, she knew she was screwed.

At first, she thought that the sirens she saw behind her was for her. It was only when she spotted the other cop cars in the rear view mirror that she concluded that they weren't actually after her. Sighing, she pulled over to the right lane and slowed to a crawl, ready to let them pass her.

When she heard five speedy zips next to her, she knew that something was very wrong.

The cops passed soon after, chasing after the bikes that were now only tiny dots ahead of her. She idly wondered if John was in one of the vehicles. But, then again, she does that every time she saw a blasted police car.

She got even more confused – and worried, if she was being honest with herself – when she saw even more red and blue lights in the distance. It seemed as if half the city's police force was riding after these guys, whoever they were and for whatever they'd done. She let the nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach win, and turned right at the next street, hoping to get out of the way and out of sight.

As she drove down random streets – she knew she wouldn't be able to get to her apartment with the chase – all she could hear were sirens. Everywhere. It wasn't so much of a joke as it was reality now thinking that the entire Gotham police force could be out tonight. Things must've been bigger than she originally thought. She quickly popped out her CD and turned the radio to a news station, hoping she'd catch something useful.

There wasn't, and with her luck it didn't come as a huge surprise to her. Maybe it was that unknown terrorist group the news lady was talking about last night. Or maybe it had something to do with the Commissioner and what John was talking about last night. Who knew. She surely didn't.

She wound up on 35th street, right outside of a FedEx. Pulling into one of the open street parking places, she turned her keys and let the city noises claim her car. And by noises tonight she meant the sirens. Pulling out her phone, she quickly checked to see if John had called or texted her. He hadn't, and she wasn't really surprised. Tapping into her news app, she scrolled through the stories, just to check.

She found what she wanted when an alert flashed onto the screen in a bright red block. Her brows furrowed as she took in the meaning. "THE BATMAN SPOTTED. CURRENTLY ON THE RUN."

Well, that certainly explained things.

She didn't quite know what to think. She was too young to truly understand what the Batman was all about all those years ago. She remembered the terror that the Joker brought and the good that Harvey Dent emitted, but the masked man was never discussed in her family. From her own research, however, she had concluded that he stood for something like the truth. But the city would never truly know that.

If John were here, he would explain things to her. He always seemed to know what was happening with the masked crusader. But he wasn't, and she was left sitting confused in her car.

That confusion turned into fear only moments later.

Her head snapped up when she heard the screeching of multiple sets of tires. Her eyes shone in the bright lights as tens, no, hundreds, of cop cars were speeding towards her from both directions. Heart beating fast, she scrambled out of her car, practically falling onto the sidewalk as she tried to put as much distance between herself and the GPD.

She must have missed something, because they all stopped outside of an alley a couple streets up from hers. Breathing heavily through her nose, she pressed herself up against the building wall as she watched hundreds of officers behind, ahead, and in front of her file out of their cars and aim their guns at something ahead of her.

When the sirens stopped, the barking starting. In front of the alley were dogs she couldn't see with cops she couldn't hear. She distantly heard the screeching of a megaphone before being jolted with what felt like a tiny explosion. She forced herself closed to the stone behind her when she saw a spotlight come from within the alley.

Was this how she was going to go? If so, she was definitely going to raise hell about that when she got to whatever was next. She still hadn't seen Billy Joel in concert, and that was most definitely not okay with her.

An engine had started up from where the light was shining, and she wasn't even given a chance to decide what was in there when something flew out of it. She couldn't even tell what it was – something between a helicopter and hovercraft – with the few seconds she got to look at it. All she could tell was that it was black and fast, and most certainly not with the police.

As the object flew through buildings, the street she was on was hit with gusts of wind, blowing around anything that didn't weigh more than five pounds. Flyers, papers, garbage, and hats littered the air and ground as the noise of the engine drifted away, leaving only a giant mess and a mass of confused witnesses.

The chaos came around six seconds later.

Yells and horns and running and barking filled the air and everyone tried talking to everyone. Some where trying to pick up their lost hats, others trying to get back into their cars, and some were screaming at some one who probably couldn't hear them.

And that left Carrie all alone on the side of a building, extremely lost and wanting nothing more than a glass of wine and John. On the couch would be nice, too.

But, while she was in the middle of a crime scene she might as well make the most out of it. The cops around her were too invested in what had just happened to even notice her short form, and so when she snuck into the middle of the street it was as if she had been in that spot the entire time.

She quickly made her way up the road and as close to the alley as she could get. She heard their whispers, too. "Didn't even have the balls to show his face to us after all these years." "Probably running back to his cave." "Think he's gonna come back?" "What the hell was that thing?" "Anyone hear about the robbers on those bikes?"

Oh, so that was what she had seen. But obviously no one really cared about that, because everything else of what she had heard was about the Batman. He must've put on some show to get all these cops here. Not to mention half the media in the air.

She had just peeked her head into the small alley – seeing absolutely nothing that would make something think a small aircraft was there moments ago – before some one had noticed that she actually wasn't supposed to be there.

"Hey, miss! Yeah, you! You can't be here. Come on, let's go." A fat, middle-aged cop with a city accent called her out, walking as quickly as he could over to where she was standing. Before she could say anything, he had grabbed her arm and was yanking her down the street.

Now these were the cops that she had stereotyped John to be when they first met. By the book, rude, inconsiderate, and flat out annoying. Not to mention this man was gripping her hard enough to leave a mark. She pulled her arm back, trying to slow him down and explain herself.

"I was just walking to my car. I need to get home." Her fib easily came to her as she wrestled her arm free.

"No, no, miss, really, it's okay," he argued with her loudly, gaining more attention to them. "You can come with me, you're all right. Everything is gonna be okay."

"I know that," she seethed, having no more patience for him as he tried to grab her again. "I can find my way from here, thanks."

"Miss, you really need to come –

"Carrie?"

Her head snapped into the direction her name was called. And when she saw John standing in front of her she almost cried out in joy. He had a look of pure confusion on his face and all she wanted to do was kiss away the crease between brow. Forgetting about the annoying man beside her, she tripped her way forward and crashed into his unsuspecting arms.

She wasn't able to hide from the others for long. She had him pressed tightly against her before he pushed her back, hands on her shoulders and face only inches from hers.

"What the hell are you doing here? Are you hurt?" His eyes quickly scanned her body, looking for injuries he wouldn't find.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she reassured him. "Are you? What happened?"

He had opened his mouth, moments away from saying something when he snapped his jaw closed and took a step back from her, dropping his arms from her shoulders.

"Sir," he called out to a tall man walking towards them.

"Who's this, Blake?"

John hesitated before answering. "This is my girlfriend, Carrie Bryan, sir. She helped with an investigation a few years back, if you recall."

The man before her nodded, but offered no words. Carrie barely remember his face, but she knew enough from what John had told her to know that this was his boss, or something similar to it.

"Well get her out of here as soon as possible, we've got work to do." The man offered a curt nod before turning the other direction and stalking off.

Carrie crossed her arms underneath her chest and muttering, "Nice to see you, too."

John sighed and faced her again. "What happened, Carrie?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"I mean why are you here." He didn't look amused; and the bags under his eyes did nothing to help that.

"I'm parked over there. I drove over here to get out of the way of all the cops, but obviously that didn't turn out as planned."

"Are you sure you're okay?" He placed a soft hand on the back of her head.

She nodded. "I'm fine, John. Just…confused."

"You and me both," he murmured under his breath, looking behind her into the alley.

"Huh?" she asked.

John shook his head. "Nothing," he paused, "You should get home, it's getting late."

"And what do you want me to do? Watch the news to get the full recap? John," she leaned closer to him, lowering her voice. "You can tell me what happened. I know you can. And what about those bikers? They passed me on the –

"Carrie," he stopped her with the look in his eyes more than his voice. "I promise I will tell you everything I know when I know it, but right now there's nothing I can tell you. All I know is that Batman is back."

She bit her lip, knowing that she wouldn't like the answering but needing to ask it anyways. "And why is he back, John?"

He looked her dead in the eyes as he told her, his own brown ones shining with undeniable and raw truth. "Because something bad is going to happen."