From: Philippa Chapman  <DandPChapman@compuserve.com>
      (Glastonbury, Somerset, UK.)
Date: Wed 3 Sep 1997 19:00 +0100
Subject: Batleap, Part 2.


'My poor old Bat!  That picture of you in the newspaper...!!!'  Prince
Orlovsky,  Pink Champagne.

After Sam and Al had double-checked that the police had rounded up all the
hoodlums, they went back together to Wayne manor.  Sam drove the car more
steadily this time, letting the adrenalin rush of the fight drain completely
from his system.  Al 'sat' in the passenger seat, quietly smoking his cigar.
"Well...." he began, eventually, "The Riddler is a bit of a tricky customer." 

"Uh-huh.  Yes....at least we've got Ziggy to help us decipher his riddles. 
What I want to know is the reason behind his note being mixed up with
Batwoman's handkerchief." 
"Well, she's probably fighting him too, and if were being precise, her name
should be 'Bat*girl*"  Sam's mouth opened and he spoke on 'auto-pilot'.
"That was no *girl*,  Al."  Al chuckled softly.
"Must be the lycra, fibre glass and rubber combination.....heck, a cute babe
squeezed into that would certainly raise my temperature all the way."   Sam
covered his blushes by favouring Al with his best angry and scandalised look,
but Al just smirked.
<If only you knew, kid.  Leaping in here certainly shifted things around back
home.  I just hope you get to experience the benefits.>  

***********************************

Stallion's Gate

He woke up confused and disorientated.  This white, sterile room was nothing
like his home and was alien to almost everything he knew.  The beautiful
psychiatrist was warm and comforting.  He felt grateful for his physical and
mental training, which aided his mind in being able to cope.  He had some of
his questions answered, but knew that far more information was being
with-held.  He ate the food that was provided and spent a good proportion of
the time either exercising or meditating.  Twenty-four hours crawled past. 
Then *she* entered the room and the sun came out.

 The hair, the stunning eyes, the slim figure with the suggestion of sweet
curves under the white lab-coat.  Bruce said a silent prayer of thanks to
whichever deity had provided a woman who matched up to over 85 percent of his
sweetest fantasies.  She looked at him and gasped with a mixture of shock and
what he could only interpret as pleasure.  Her face quickly took on a polite
mask.     
"Mr......Wayne?"  She sounded as if she expected him to be someone else.  He
held out a hand and smiled reassuringly.
"Bruce....please call me Bruce."  She moved and sat carefully on the edge of
the bed.  Bruce took in her long, slender legs and amended upwards to 90
percent.  He carefully covered her hand with his own.  She bit her lip.
"Please....don't.  I can't."  She snatched her hand away.  
"It's okay.  I don't bite."  Sudden, hot visions of delivering gentle bites
and kisses to that slender neck and elsewhere on her body flashed through his
mind.  Her eyes widened and darkened as if she had just read his thoughts. 
"What are you *doing* to me?  *He's* the only man, the only person with whom
I've ever bonded, ever shared mind, soul and body.  I saw that image in your
mind," she blushed deeply,"It was so close to what I've experienced before. 
I thought that  it was unique between him and me....."  
Bruce put two and two together.

"I look like *him*, don't I? And I  feel a connection, too.  You are so close
to perfection....."  Her eyes closed briefly.
"It's been such a long time....."  To his surprise, she bent down and kissed
him.  Bruce responded eagerly, feeling their minds brush even as their lips
united.  Again it was uncannily close to the kiss he'd always dreamed about. 
Suddenly she pulled away and he knew why.
"It's not quite the same, is it?"  Her eyes were haunted and apologetic.
"I'm sorry.....Bruce.  I'm not quite the woman you're looking for.  Sam's my
*husband*.....but you *are* very close, both in looks and manner.  If your
circumstances and mine are so similar, perhaps you will meet my counterpoint
one day."  Bruce gazed into her eyes.
"God, I hope so.  Your Sam is a very lucky man."    
"We've heard about you.  I mean, we know about Batman, but your secret is safe
with us .  My guess is that you're just waiting for Batwoman to turn up."   
    
"Bat*woman*, eh?  Well, I haven't met her yet.  I know I can trust you.  This
is clearly a secret establishment and you all knew exactly what to say to make
me feel comfortable and safe. All of you are used to keeping secrets, I bet. 
Your sweet presence was just the icing on the cake."  The woman who was Mrs
Beckett blushed.       

"I'd better go now."  Bruce Wayne grinned disarmingly.
"I don't suppose I could have another of those kisses to be going on with?"
She  laughed softly. 
"I don't think that would be wise."   Bruce closed his eyes.
"Mmm.  If Batwoman kisses better than you, I'll be in *heaven*."  
"I think she just might, Bruce.  Be patient a little longer."  Then the
delightful vision was gone. 
"I think I'm going to like it here." 
"NOT AS MUCH AS WHEN YOU GET HOME, MR WAYNE.  MY CALCULATIONS SHOW A STRONG
POSSIBILITY THAT BATWOMAN IS IN GOTHAM ALREADY."  Bruce had adapted to Ziggy's
disembodied presence remarkably  well.
"Then I hope Sam is as noble as his gorgeous wife."
"HE IS MORE NOBLE."  Bruce smiled.
"Then she's as good as mine, Ziggy.  The love of my life....at long last...."

***********************************

Sam parked the Batmobile in the underground cave, stripped off the rather
sweaty suit and had Al guide him to a good hot shower before trudging to the
master bedroom.  Al  whistled.
"Whew, four  poster bed and what looks like real silk sheets.  Ni...iice." 
Sam climbed into dark blue cotton pyjamas and felt the material between finger
and thumb.
"That's real silk alright."  Al's eyes glinted.
"That reminds me of the last time I took Tina to Vegas.....we spent the entire
five days doing nothing but eating, sleeping and.....getting the sheets
severely mussed up."  Sam just sighed heavily and climbed into bed.  
"I suppose everything's gonna be quiet tonight?"  Al checked his handlink.
"Yes....quiet as a mouse.  I'll get back to you in the morning.  Nighty-night,
Sam."  Sam's mouth struggled, then gave into the smile that was threatening. 
He picked up the pillow and mimed throwing it at Al, who was already leaving.

Sam spent the next couple of days exploring Wayne manor and adapting to having
a personal valet, cook and butler rolled into one in the person of Alfred. 
He spent some time each day in Bruce Wayne's personal gym which had its own
sauna and steam room attached.  He also familiarised himself with the
alter-ego Batman's incredible arsenal of weapons and all the controls in the
Batmobile, just in case.  Sam also aired at least some of his worries about
The Riddler with Al and Alfred.
"Well, Mr Wayne, we've heard rumours about his activities, of course.  He
enjoys ruining as many people's fun as possible.  There's the civic grand
masked ball tomorrow night.  I would think it prudent to have the Batsuit
handy, just in case."
"I suppose I *have* to go?"
"It would cause something of a scandal if one of the guests of honour *didn't*
go, sir."  Sam sighed resignedly.
"He's right, Sam," Al added, "In any case I bet Jean *and* Batwoman will be
there....masked, of course."

It was with mixed feelings that Sam donned yet another disguise on the
following evening.
"I don't know what you've got to complain about, Sam.  Those black pants, red
cummerbund and the white frilly shirt look good on you, and with the red satin
lining in that black cape, the hat and the pencil mustache, you cut quite a
dashing figure.  Just watch what you're doing with  that blade.....Hey!" Al
dodged automatically even though the rapier would have passed through him
without hurting him, "Anyway, you're another nobleman in disguise.....you
should be accustomed to it by now." Sam adjusted the black mask.
"Well at least I can speak Spanish...." A slow smile spread across his face. 
He drew the rapier out of the scabbard and made three slashes in the air.  The
smile turned into an eager grin,"You know, Al, I think I'm going to *enjoy*
being Zorro tonight!"

>More eager noises of encouragement from one swashbuckling fan who would LOVE
to see Scott in the role.  Anybody? <

Sam got into the carefully disguised lines of the Batmobile.
"Your *suit* is in the back, Mr Wayne."
"Oh...thank-you, Alfred."  Sam removed the rapier  with it's scabbard and belt
and stowed it behind the passenger seat.  Al floated down to ride shot-gun.
"The party's in the banqueting room which is the penthouse of Gotham's
equivalent of City Hall.  Current mayor one Mister Gordon.  Quite a decent
sort, which is out of the ordinary.  His family has old money, which is
respected here.  This place is full of guys like Al Capone, many behind a mask
of respectability.  You remember your brush-in with the.....erm....*family*?" 
Sam remembered, though it had been some time ago.
"Yeah, you helped me to sing and speak Italian.  You never....?" Al flinched.
"Hey, I'm Italian, but I'm not crazy.  Knew a few who were, kept my nose
clean.  Our family were too poor, then there was Trudy....and Mom."  Al's
mouth closed up tight.
"Sorry....I guess I'd get prickly if you suggested my family were Shriners or
Masons.....again a lot of  farmers locally were in something like that, but
my Dad held with  plain talking and didn't like anything associated with
secrecy."   
"Yeah, me too....apart from military stuff, but that goes with the job."  Sam
drove on in silence. It had been late at night and very dark the last time he
had been in Gotham and he had been in something of a hurry.  Now Sam had time
to take in the architecture.

Huge bulky skyscrapers with monolithic statues outside nearly every one
dominated Gotham city.  Sam tried to divide his attention between the
arresting buildings and the road.  Eventually he pulled to a halt outside the
City Hall where two ten foot figures were locked in perpetual struggle.
"Well, I don't think Frank Lloyd Wright had a hand in this place.  It's like
a mixture of......someone's idea of Russia with input from Gaudi....maybe
Epstein and a huge slice of Henry Moore."  Al's eyes opened wide in surprise
at Sam's knowledge, but he said nothing.  Leaving the Batmobile parked in
accommodating shadow, Sam re-adjusted his fancy dress, buckled the rapier in
place and went inside the building.

A man dressed in burgundy and gold-trimmed livery relieved Sam of his embossed
invitation.  After a ride of umpteen floors in an ornate gilt elevator, Sam
finally entered the civic party.  The vast ballroom was a symphony of gold,
cream and champagne colors.  Every pillar was festooned in fake gold vine
leaves which twirled upwards and ended in huge bunches of streamers and
balloons matching the decor.  A flunky wearing a suit similar to the doorman,
but with a pill-box hat, approached Sam and proffered a glass of pink
champagne.    
"Wow...!" Al commented, "Look at the *women*.....embarrassment de
richesse...all those plunging necklines.  I feel like a kid in a candy store." 
Sam favored him with a brief glare, then took one of the glasses.  He sipped
briefly, appreciating the flavor and the bubbles which teased his nose.  He
looked over the rim of the narrow glass at Al.

"You and Ziggy still haven't told me what I've got to put right yet."  Al
shrugged apologetically.
"You've effectively Leaped into an alternative reality, Sam.  We're flying a
little blind on this one.  Ziggy's best odds...." He paused to consult his
Handlink, "Are that it has to do with our friend The Riddler and Batwoman. 
Yes....that's it.  In the original history Batwoman went missing and was never
found; well, bits of her were found, but you probably don't want to hear about
that."  Al shivered with disgust.  Sam winced.  
"So....what do I do?"  Al began to smile slowly.
"Find Batwoman..." he dropped into his sleaziest voice,"And stick to her like
glue.  I bet she's a babe...."  Sam knew that part of Al's performance was a
reaction to the grizzly details he'd just been reading, but he still bristled
slightly.
"That's going to be a tadge difficult with everyone here in masks and fancy
dress..."  Al looked up at Sam with sincerity.  
"Follow your heart, Sam.  It's seldom failed you before."  Sam heard Al's
compliment and his unspoken apology.  He nodded gently.  As he lifted his
head, Al was waving and disappearing back through his 'door'.  

Sam finished his champagne slowly, then made for the buffet through a nearby
archway.  He tucked in gratefully.  Alfred cooked good meals, but the lure of
a whole side of smoked salmon was irresistible.  He added the lemon juice and
freshly ground black pepper.  After he'd had enough, he found the gent's
cloakroom, then headed back to the main room, which was by now full of people
in riotous costumes and masks.  He spotted Harlequins, Jesters, Kings, Queens,
animals and even several giant fruit.  Sam kept to the perimeter of the room,
scanning for anything that jarred or looked especially out of place.  Then he
saw someone standing, almost hiding behind a floral decoration.  He checked
his watch, surprised to find that time had flown and it was gone quarter to
midnight.  He moved a little closer, ready to pounce.   He caught a flash of
royal blue as the person began to move.  Sam zeroed in swiftly, catching a
slender arm with his hand.  Then he stopped dead, almost unable to breathe.

Blue silk draped around sweet curves.  Sam took in the one bare shoulder and
the way the material both revealed and concealed her figure.  Sam tried to
look into her eyes, to see if the whole traffic-stopping outfit was merely 
a clever ploy,  but her face was almost covered by the blue and silver mask
she was wearing.  Sam's eyes narrowed speculatively.  Pink lips curved upwards
in amusement at him.  
"Well, Zorro!  I'm not your Spanish Dona..."  Sam went with his gut instinct,
whilst staying alert.  He smiled warmly.
"No, senorita.....but I would like this dance.  Por favor?"  She chuckled, a
deep musical sound that went straight from Sam's ears to his heart.  He took
her hand, kissed it gallantly and led her onto the dance floor.  She fit into
his arms as if she had been made for him.  Sam closed his eyes, struggling to
stay objective.  A cloud of perfumed brown curls and a soft cheek close to his
didn't help.  He drifted through several numbers with her almost on auto-
pilot.  He suddenly became aware of balloons and streamers falling all around
them.              
<Of course!  Midnight...>  

Sam looked down at his partner.  He knew that couples all around him were
kissing.  He mentally shrugged.
<Oh, what the heck....you know jolly well you want to kiss her....>  A tiny
part of his brain protested, <but you don't even know her name.....>, even as
his eager lips met hers.  His rational brain retreated into ecstatic, stunned
silence.  He was far too busy  holding her, sharing the sweet sensations of
two mouths in perfect harmony.  He lingered deliberately, slowly deepening the
kiss until the rest of the world disappeared.  After about half a lifetime,
he slowly and regretfully pulled away.  She raised her hand to his cheek.
"Time to remove your mask, Senor Zorro." 
Sam put his hand over hers and searched for the bow at the back of her mask.
"We'll unveil together....okay?"  

Suddenly Al was there, giving him an amused leer.
"Now there's unveiling, and there's *unveiling*.  Just how much were you
planning on removing?  Not that I blame you.  I'd certainly like to see
*everything* under that sexy number she's got on....   Uh-oh!"  Sam was, by
this time, rather distracted from finding out who the owner of the heavenly
body and the world class kissing lips might be.  A loud noise broke in from
somewhere overhead.  It was a loud klaxon, followed by the biggest Bronx cheer
Sam had ever heard.  A volume-distorted voice broke in on the assembled
gathering.

"Just a greeting from me to you,
To let you know there's payment due.
This party is now at and end
But millions of bucks you'll have to spend."  The voice trailed off into long,
hysterical laughter, then thick green and yellow gas began spilling from vents
in the ceiling.  Sam flattened himself on the floor instinctively.  He turned
to check on his female companion, but she was nowhere in sight.  Al fiddled
with his handlink until he floating at Sam's eye level.  
"Where is she?"  Al shrugged.
"The lady vanished, Sam.  Anyway, you need to get into the rubber and lycra
gear.  Ziggy gives you a better than 85% probability of finding either The
Riddler or some clues up on the roof.  You'd better move it before *that*
stuff kicks in....."  Sam was already on his way.  "Over here, Sam.  Glass
elevator...."  Sam plunged in and was on his way down before monumental
vertigo set in.  He took one look at the unobstructed view, groaned, then sank
against the rear wall, his face white with fear.  Al looked at night-time
Gotham unperturbed.
"It's okay for you;  you don't have to worry about the drop...."  Al chuckled.
"I remember this time in Chicago.  There was this luscious blonde I'd been
pursuing for a month.  We got into an elevator like this one evening and rode
in it all night long.  Boy, was *she* worth waiting for......"  Sam snorted
and looked upwards.
"It always has to be sex, doesn't it?" he said, resignedly.  Al glinted.
"Maybe....but giving your mind a pretty picture to think about has distracted
you enough for us to reach the ground.  One quick change and off you go."

 Sam managed the change, then got back in the elevator with a sigh.  Al
smirked, then grinned suggestively.
"Going up?"  
"I'm not going to rise to the bait.  What about the people in the ballroom,
Al?"  Al obligingly checked, while Sam kept his back to the glass.
"No problem;  that was simply colored laughing gas.  They'll be fine in an
hour or two.  You have to go  after The Riddler."   Sam duly got out onto the
large, flat roof.  Two figures were struggling at the far corner.  Sam crept
over as fast as he could.  A man dressed in lycra covered in question marks
ran off, taking an almost suicidal leap on to the next building.
"Thanks, Batman."  A low, musical, slightly husky female voice.  Sam turned
around and came within an ace of gawping.  She was wearing an outfit similar
to his and her figure was exquisitely curved under the figure-hugging black
leather and lycra.  Al's eyes nearly came out on stoppers.
"Grrrrr!   Oh, *baby*.  Take me, I'm yours.  You lucky, lucky dog, Sam.  This
is Batwoman!"  Sam had figured that out by himself.  He took a deep breath.
"Oh, boyyy!"