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"Run!" he roared, a menacing glint in his eyes.

"I'm not leaving you!" she shouted.

One of the assailants leaped down and punched her in the face, nails tearing at her soft flesh. She yelped, but swung just as hard, if not harder. The attacker's cronies all turned on her and pushed her down, tearing at any open skin, any vulnerable part of her. She kicked some away, but there were too many. She felt so scared suddenly. They kept coming. She crossed her arms in a shield-like form over her face as they continued to bludgeon her. Suddenly there was a lightness. She felt a much gentler touch but she still flinched. Bodies lay crippled and broken everywhere, necks at odd angles, jaws disconnected, spines twisted.

"I told you," he said gently, holding her tiny hand in his enormous one. She stumbled forward and he caught her, chuckling mechanically. He picked her up. He held her tight, knowing it was not the end.

She felt the welts rising, warm on her face. She felt safe held close to the concrete chest of her champion. Her knight in shining armor. His strong, echoing heartbeat was her hope. It was like thunder in her ears as he carried her through the long passageways of Gotham's underground. He kicked away a few attackers, but not a single one lay a finger on her. She felt drowsiness take over her and she drifted off into sleep.

She woke up in the stone arms of her protector, the smell of blood trapped in her nostrils. He was awake, she could tell.

"Are you hurt?" he asked softly.

"I'm alright," she murmured. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," he answered distantly. She searched him, and discovered the dragging wound across his chest.

"You're hurt," she frowned.

"It isn't anything." He glanced at her for a moment, piercing blue eyes matching her own. His intense gaze softened. Keeping __________ around was dangerous. He was toting his bare soul around behind him, her white innocence mirroring what he used to be. Bare nerves touching the surface. Every wound inflicted on her, hurt him worse. She was his other half, and he was hers. He'd give anything for her, including his life.

She curled into him, her tiny body fitting perfectly between his strong arms. She kissed his palm, the callouses scratching her soft lips. He wanted to kiss her, but his lips were imprisoned beneath metal. His anger swelled as looked down at her split nose and bloodied cheeks. He hadn't done well this time.

She had told him a thousand times that he was her savior, but he couldn't believe it. She didn't need saving. He did.