A/N: I have a habit for creating new characters to fit in this story. This has nothing to do with me. It was just an idea I got while watching the movie…3 times. So try it out, many people seem to enjoy when I create new characters to a movie. (Ex. Serena in Fast and the Furious and Tristan in X-men) Give this a try an please R&R.

CHAPTER ONE – FOR THE BETTER

Emmeline Pierce sat on the bench awaiting the next tram. It sucked badly to have her brother using her car for his own purposes but she was used to it. Besides, there were days when the tram was easier than the overly populated streets but not on cold nights when she worked until one in the morning. Least not in Gotham City where the bad ruled the town and Falcone owned the streets, that's the way she heard it and that's the way it was. He even owned the bar she worked at and half the other ones in the city so her fear was rational. Anything could happen when criminals knew no fear.

She shivered and pulled her coat tighter around her looking around the nearly empty station. There were few people, she could count them all on one hand. But at this time, there should only be that many, which scared her more. Anywhere past midnight in this city freaked her out because anyone could be a potential mugger. It wasn't that she was afraid she'd be hurt, she knew how to fight. When you grew up with three older brothers in a family of four, you knew how to handle yourself and her oldest brother, Russell, was a Jujitsu master, had been for twenty years. So she could protect herself, but it was the idea of it even being tempted that frightened her along with the fear of actually physically hurting someone.

Emmy just kept her head down and her ears open. There was an older woman to her far right on a bench, more than likely homeless by the countless amount of coats she wore that had seen better days and a guy to her left farther away pacing slowly wile waiting for the tram, probably a grave shift worker.

Running her fingers through her hair she let out a sigh and wondered silently when her life would change. She hated working at the Treasure Chest bar where she had to wear outfits two sizes too small and serve drunken middle aged old men all night with a forced smile and take their petty sexist call outs with a fake laugh. She hated the men she ended up dating, every one of them was a sleaze ball, all muscle no brain, more than likely ended up criminals. She wanted a better life, a normal one where she could be happy for a change. It had been a long time since she felt happy.

She tucked a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear and tapped her foot restlessly. It wasn't like she had anyone waiting for her at her apartment. She was single. Had been since the day her boyfriend up and disappeared on her with a pretty red head ten months ago, taking some of her jewelry with him including her mother's diamond and ruby ring that was part of the family heirloom and the only thing of value she ever had. Bastard stole it with her other rings and necklaces, but it was that ring that meant the most. She was the only girl in the family and her mother had passed away when she was ten of heart disease. Her father remarried and moved when she was eighteen to California. She was alone in Gotham with only her brother, the other two had moved out of the city.

But she couldn't complain, despite the dream life she wanted she had it better than others. It beat living on the street even if she wasn't happy, she was at least thankful for a roof over her head and money in her pocket. However it didn't stop her from wishing for more in her life, just something extra, whether it be a new job, new place to live, or, hell, maybe even a decent guy. For twenty-three she had seen enough losers to last a lifetime and enough crime to last two lifetimes of jail sentences. It was just part of her circle of life that never changed, which made it more depressing for her to know that she'd go home to her one bedroom apartment to start the same circle over again in the morning.

Emmy rubbed at her eyes and listened for the tram but didn't hear the wailing of the horn. Instead she heard a noise from behind the wall, near the staircase behind her. It was a dead wall, in other words it was for decoration and owner use. The staircase led to the top of the tracks in case of an emergency. It was basically an alley behind the wall. With a frown she followed the noise slowly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear again. She turned the corner and waited, listening with her hand in her pocket on her pocketknife she had hidden. Her brother had bought it for her on her birthday. Most would find it odd, she adored it.

The path was empty, but she heard it again, a groan, weak but audible. She moved to the metal staircase that had a large opening beneath it and looked in the dark area. She saw nothing at first until she scanned her eyes more to the left and saw a foot, a leg. Her eyes widened and she moved closer. A man! Unconscious and visibly hurt.

"Oh my God," she whispered and got to her knees, ducking inside the crawl space.

It was a large area underneath, used for storing boxes but now it stored a body along with the boxes. She moved closer to the guy and felt his neck, there was a pulse. It was weak but it was there and steady. She ducked out of the area and saw the guy was still there waiting for the tram. "HEY!"

The big guy turned towards her with a look of surprise and moved a bit closer as if unsure if she was talking to him even though he was the only guy in that direction. He pointed a finger at his chest and she let out an irritated sigh. "Yes, you. Call an ambulance! This man's hurt!"

The guy moved closer to look and Emmy rolled her eyes at humanity's curiosity to see a fellow being injury. It made her sick.

"Holy shit," the guy whispered as he looked in at where she sat next to the man. "You weren't kiddin'."

"Did you think I was lying?" she snapped and shook her head. "Go call. NOW!"

The guy took off and Emmy went back to the unconscious man. She brushed a strand of his dark hair from his blood-covered face. He was wearing a suit, had to be someone of semi importance. His face was thin and lean, high cheekbones that most girl's would die for and full lips. His body was lean and as she felt for any injuries she could feel muscle, he was toned. She shook her head, crushing on an injured guy would do her no good right now. She found a stab wound on the left side of his torso a few inches away from his navel that was bleeding but not badly. He let out a weak moan as she pressed near his chest, definitely injured ribs, probably broken or cracked. And judging by the blood on his face, he had a concussion. He started coughing violently and blood trickled from his lips. She moved around him and lifted his head into her lap to make it easier for him to breathe and wiped the blood away. She sat there with him, whispering words of encouragement that she hoped he could hear, praying he wouldn't die on her. It was the last thing she needed right now.

From the corner of her eye she saw something on the ground a few feet from her. Trying not to move him much, she grabbed for it. A wallet, black leather and completely drained of any cash it had once contained, definitely his. She opened it up and found his license. Jonathan Crane, psychiatrist. That explained his now ripped suit. Judging by the picture, there was a nice looking guy under the blood and bruises. She tucked it in her pocket so she could give it to the hospital later.

"They on their way," the guy said ducking back in. He didn't come any closer, just crouched at the mouth of the opening and stared.

"What are you staring at?" she asked, hoping it sounded as mean as she felt.

"Nothin', jus' I never seen a dead body before."

"He's not dead," she growled.

"Well, he looks dead," the guy countered.

"And in about two minutes so will you."

"Don't get all feisty on me, sweetheart."

"Don't call me sweetheart."

"Listen, lady, I've hit some women in my life, even did time for it and you're coming pretty damn close to bein' slapped and joining that list and I'm six foot two and two hundred fifty pounds. You're, what, five foot three and a hundred and thirty."

"Twenty," she corrected.

"Big deal. I can take you and you can join your lil friend here. I'll even take a lil more than I need," he started to move towards her, unbuckling his belt.

Emmeline reached into her pocket and flipped open her pocketknife. "You come anywhere near me or him and I swear to God I will watch as your insides come out."

The white guy froze, staring at the knife. "You wouldn't."

"Try me, asshole."

He backed up as he heard the sirens approaching, apparently he wasn't too fond of the police. She didn't need to guess why judging by his bald head and tattoos, he knew what the inside of prison walls looked like. She bet her life he was a rapist. "Maybe next time," the man took off running and Emmeline didn't bother to go after him. She had more pressing issues. Like Jonathan bleeding to death in her lap.

"Hello?" a voice called out from the entrance to the station.

"Over here," she shouted. "Under the staircase behind the wall."

The man moaning caught her attention back. His eyes blinked open and she was startled by the bright blueness of his eyes she forgot to speak. "It's okay…you'll be all right. I got you, Jonathan. You're safe with me."

She wasn't sure if he heard her or not. His eyes rolled back into his head and shut as he lost consciousness once more. She ran her fingers through her hair as the paramedics showed up taking over for her. Emmeline moved back so they could get to him and a middle aged officer moved her aside.

"I'm Detective Gordon," the officer said. "What's your name, miss?"

"Emmeline…Emmeline Pierce."

"Emmeline," he repeated with a smile. "That's a very pretty name. Very unique too."

"Thank you…I guess."

"Ms. Pierce, are you the one who made the phone call?"

"Um…no. This other guy did. I just…I found him," she stumbled with her words as she tried to look at the officer but at Jonathan. She couldn't pull her eyes off him for some reason.

"What time would that have been?" he asked.

"About one o'clock. He could have been there longer though. It didn't happen while I was here. There were only three people waiting besides me."

Gordon rubbed at his mustache. "How did you find him?"

"I heard something while I was waiting and I followed the sound and I looked under there and," she made a gesture with her hand to signal the rest.

"I see. Well hopefully there's enough evidence to find something to indicate who did this to him. And when he wakes up maybe the gentleman can tell us something."

"Jonathan," she corrected him while watching the medics load him onto the gurney.

"What?" Gordon asked with his eyebrows furrowed.

"His name is Jonathan," she told him.

"You know him?"

"Yes," the answer fell from her lips before she could even think of it.

"Oh…I'm sorry about your friend. I didn't know," he said and sounded truly apologetic. She found it sweet that there was one caring cop left in this botched city. "Well then, I think you're done here, Ms. Pierce. Why don't you ride with him to the hospital," he said and put a hand on her back to guide her towards the awaiting ambulance. "If we need anything more of you, we'll give you a call."

She nodded and climbed into the back, sitting near Jonathan. The doors to the ambulance closed and it sped away into the early morning.