Arkham sat in gloom, its walls darkened by the rain, its silence broken only by the solemn hum of rolling thunder. This, it seemed to Bruce, was the only state in which he ever found the asylum. He watched the structure from the back of his town car, the tapping rain giving him a brief sense of comfort, one which he knew would soon be forgotten.

"Keep it running," he told the driver as he stepped out.

Inside, he knew the drill better than most, though the front door was not his usual way in. Bruce lay his watch, phone and keys on the tray as the awestruck rookie guard watched in silent amazement, the most popular man in Gotham in its darkest corner.

"Thank you Mr. Wayne, I'll keep these safe for you," said the young guard as the older one rolled his eyes. Bruce nodded and was led by the older man down the pale corridor to the room at the opposite end.

"She hasn't shown any signs of violence but I can stay close if you want," the guard said.

"It's alright, I'll be okay," Bruce replied. The guard signaled to the rookie who pressed a button at the guard-station. A loud buzz rang through the hall and the guard pulled open the door. Bruce stepped inside and in another moment, he was alone.

"Hello Kara," he said in a soft tone. The girl lay on the bed beside him, her once blond hair now falling in light brown ropes over her face. She had not seen sunlight in months. "Did you get the basket I sent?" he asked as he sat down at her desk. Though the sorrowful ambience of Arkham could not be entirely done away with, Bruce had, over the past ninety days, anonymously sent things to help bring some normalcy to her world and add whatever little cheer he could to her room. Though she wasn't allowed pencils, he had been given her paper and charcoal to draw, one of her many hobbies when she was younger, or so he had been told, along with posters, books and even a small plastic keyboard. But the posters remain rolled up in the corner, the books in a pile on the desk, the keyboard in its case. Before this, he had met her only once, not as Bruce Wayne, but as Batman.

He had wanted to call his friend Clark, known to all as Superman, for help. But as he had just left to go on his honeymoon, Bruce opted not to bother him and reached out to Clark's cousin, Kara, who had only just introduced herself to the world as Supergirl. She had been full of life, brimming with youth and lightness. And though not exactly graceful, she had great strength of character, a natural desire to do good and the innocent optimism only the young possess.

Bruce had greatly enjoyed their time together, and Kara, who had been starstruck at meeting the Dark Knight, showed nothing but humility at the end of their experience, which had led to non-other than capturing the Joker himself.

Ever since, Bruce had sent her birthday presents and Christmas cards, as he wasn't sure how else to show his gratitude. After two years of peace, Joker escaped from Arkham. The details of his escape were never completely understood. Some guards say there were supernatural elements to what happened that night while others insist it was an inside job. After an investigation, Bruce had more questions than answers. And even more so once the Joker made no attempts to come after him as he had expected. There were no bombs, no games, and nothing from the Harlequin. Until there was, but not in the way he had been expecting. Bruce had heard about it too late. By the time knew what happened, Kara was already shattered. Ruined in all ways but the flesh.

"Is there anything you need?" he asked, but she remained silent. For months he had been conducting his investigation without ever wanting to involve her. But after all those days, all those hours with nothing to show for it, no clues leading to Joker, he had to come, he had to ask her face to face. Kara had been the only witness to his crime.

"Is there anything you can tell me? I won't come back if you don't want it. Or I'll come every day. Whatever you want, you'll have it. But I have to stop him."

She lay with her eyes open but distant, looking but seeing nothing. Kara was silent. He finally stood. "You should get some sun. When you're ready," he said. Outside time was allowed once a day but she had never taken advantage of it. Bruce wasn't sure if he wanted her to. Without the sun her powers had been significantly weakened, and in her state, he thought maybe that was a good thing, but after seeing her now, withered, pale Bruce had changed his mind,.

"Goodbye Kara," Bruce said as he moved to the door.

"There was..." she began, her voice small, weak, as if it had been kept in a box too long. He turned back to her and waited. "That last day, before Clark brought me to Gotham, there was someone there... it looked like Clark but wasn't."

"Thank you," he told her.

"Are you going to kill him?" she asked, finally raising her eyes to meet his.

"I don't kill people," he said. "But I'll put him away. She dropped her eyes again, staring at nothing.

"I will... if you don't. I'll kill him."