Pictures
by Batgirl (onoshobishobi_ingelosi@yahoo.com)

***

Tim Drake stared at the computer screen. ‘This is so boring’ he thought to 
himself as he checked his watch for the fifth time in the last two minutes. He 
looked over at the girl sitting at the computer next to him. 

She was hard at work. Tim sighed and chuckled to himself. This computer science 
class was a breeze. Barbara, or Oracle as the superhero community knew her, had 
showed him everything he would ever need to know about computers, along with a 
few things he probably shouldn’t know. He smirked as he wondered how his teacher 
would react to Tim’s telling him that just the other night he had learned how to 
hack into every government database in the United States. "I had always wondered 
who really killed JFK," he mumbled to himself with a smile. 

"Hey, Drake!" the boy at the computer across from him whispered harshly. Tim 
looked up, his previous train of thought broken. He quickly looked around to 
make sure that the teacher was gone. 

"What’s up, Gordy?" he leaned over and whispered in reply. 

"Dude, you’ve gotta’ check out this site I just found. It’s awesome!" 

‘Porn site,’ Tim thought to himself as he rose to walk around to look. Not that 
he had any problem with that; he was 15 years old for God’s sake. ‘It’s expected 
of me,’ he thought with a goofy smile. He stood behind Gordy and glanced down at 
the screen. His heart jumped into his throat. "Oh my God….." he said softly. 

***

Barbara Gordon took one last look around her apartment. It had taken forever, 
but finally it was clean. A large smile, which had been forming across her face 
for the last half-hour or so, finally burst in the form of a ‘just because I’m 
happy’ laugh. She glanced at her watch and tucked a loose strand of red hair 
behind her ear. "Whew!" She let out a sigh of relief as she slouched down in her 
chair, "Just in time!" She had fifteen minutes to change before Dick arrived. 
She glanced over at the table and smiled. The food smelled great. He had tried 
to get her to go out with him, but she had refused. 

"Are you saying there’s something wrong with my cooking, Boy Wonder?" She had 
joked. He hadn’t been in the mood for jokes. "Damnit Barbara! When was the last 
time you left your apartment? When was the last time you’ve actually been 
outside? Do you even remember?" He had yelled in a frustrated tone. 

She had flinched. How could she forget? It had been a few months ago. She 
remembered every little detail with painful clarity. The looks of sympathy and 
pity she had gotten. Some people preferred to simply ignore her; if they didn’t 
see her then she wasn’t really there. Yes, she remembered. 

"Of course I remember, Dick," she had replied in a soft tone. He could tell that 
she was on the verge of tears so he had let it go. 

She sighed to herself as she wheeled into her bedroom to change. She glanced 
absently at the video monitor and wheeled back and took a better look. Tim was 
standing in the hallway in front of her door. Her curiosity peeked as she 
watched him stand in silence. 

She wondered how long he had been out there. Finally, she heard the buzz of her 
doorbell. She wheeled over to the door, undid the many locks and opened it. Tim 
glanced up at her as she opened the door, but his gaze returned quickly to the 
floor. ‘Why won’t he look at me?’ Barbara wondered as she wheeled backwards to 
let him in. "What’s up, Tim?" she asked in an overly cheerful voice. He walked 
in slowly and she noticed that he had a small scrap of paper clutched in his 
right hand. "How’s that computer class going? Have you taught your teacher a 
thing or two?" She laughed as she asked. He didn’t reply. He sat down slowly on 
the couch. Only then did he look at her. Barbara sucked in a quick breath as she 
looked into his blue eyes. She knew that look. He handed her the paper slowly. 

"Today during class, this guy he—I…" He didn’t know how to tell her. She 
remained silent as he gathered his thoughts. "Maybe you had better see for 
yourself. I’ll wait out here." 

She looked down at the slip of paper he had given her: it was a web site 
address. As she wheeled over to her computer room she wondered what could make 
him so serious. Tim was such a happy, playful young man. He always had a joke to 
tell or a smile to give. ‘This must be really bad,’ she thought to her self as 
she typed in the address. ‘Probably something about his father,’ she thought 
with a frown. The page loaded quickly. She gasped as the hideous white face 
filled the multiple computer screens. The Joker. 

With a knot in her stomach, she looked at the links. 

She stopped at ‘Victims’ and clicked. Shutting her eyes tightly, she prayed that 
it wouldn’t be what she thought. "Please, God, no," she whispered quietly as she 
prepared to open her eyes. She snapped open her eyes and closed them quickly. 
The images on the computer screen were forever burned into her mind. 

"Noooo!" she screamed as she pushed herself from the computer violently. In a 
quick motion she tried to jerk her body around but ended up tipping over in her 
chair. She spilled out onto the floor and sobbed loudly. 

Tim’s jaw tightened as he heard her scream. He knew she would want to be alone, 
but it was so hard for him to sit there and hear her cry. He couldn’t even begin 
to understand what she was feeling right now, he knew he’d never be able to 
understand. 

"Barbara!" a muffled shout came from behind the door. 

Before Tim even had a chance to look up, the door came crashing down and Dick 
Grayson charged in with a wild look in his eyes. Dick was already headed towards 
her before Tim jumped up to stop him, Tim knew that Barbara wouldn’t want him to 
see. But it was too late. 

"Barbara…" He said softly as he realized there was no intruder and bent to help 
her up. She looked up at him, eyes wide with terror, tears staining her cheeks. 

"No, Dick, no!" She shouted as she half raised herself in an effort to shield 
the computer screen with her hands. But she couldn’t reach. His quick blue eyes 
darted from screen to screen. Barbara watched his face intently, noting its 
mixture of anger and pity. Finally he looked at her; it was the same look that 
Tim had given her, the same look Bruce gave her, and the same look her father 
tried to hide in his own eyes. She fell back onto the floor and curled up, 
becoming as small as she possibly could. Now that he had seen the pictures, he 
would never look at her the same again. 

Dick stared at the pictures in silence. Barbara and Bruce had kept them hidden 
from him. He had only been told that the Joker had "moved her multiple times" 
after he shot her. With a cold anger, he stared at the insane green-haired clown 
on the screen holding Barbara’s naked, bleeding figure; she was biting her lip 
in an effort to keep from screaming out in agony, an eerie look of emptiness 
shone from her eyes. He looked from picture to picture, each was worse than he 
next. He glanced down at her; her long red hair lay across her face, shielding 
it from his eyes. She had stopped crying, now there was only silence. He had to 
say something. He bent down to her and lay his hand softly on her head, 
"Barbara, I had no idea…" his words came out choked, he didn’t know how to talk 
to her. His eyes began to shine over with tears as he knelt besides her, 
stroking her head tenderly. 

"Get out," she said quietly. He flinched at the coldness in her voice. No, he 
wouldn’t leave her. Not now. "Barbara, I think –" 

"Get out now," she repeated, her voice steady and emotionless. 

"Well at least let me help you get back in your chair," he pleaded with her. A 
fraction of a second later he realized that that was the worst thing he could 
have possibly said. 

"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE RIGHT NOW!!!" she exploded, finally looking up. His muscles 
tensed at the look. Her eyes, they had the same emptiness that he had seen in 
the pictures, a kind of cold, numb rage. 

He backed away slowly, his eyes now on the floor. Finally, he turned his back 
and walked out; he was surprised to see Tim waiting for him in the living room. 

"I was the one who found it," Tim explained quietly, eyes on the ground. Without 
a reply, Dick moved toward the door. Tim joined him silently and together they 
walked out, leaving Barbara Gordon alone on the floor, surrounded by the images 
that haunted her every night in her nightmares. 

"Do you still have the address?" Dick asked as he and Tim walked down the 
stairs. Tim nodded reluctantly. 

"Good, we have some work to do." 

***

At the sound of the doorbell, Barbara set down her steaming cup of coffee. She 
wheeled over to the door and opened it without a second thought. So distracted 
by her own emotions, she failed to even glance at the monitor to see who it was. 
She opened the door and gasped. 

"Luuuuuucy! I’m hoooooome!" followed by an insane laugh. 

Before she had a chance to react, he had come inside. Placing his hands on the 
handles of her chair, he moved his face to within inches of hers. "Awwwww, Babs! 
Did’ya miss me?" he asked, his voice level dropping a level, losing its 
playfulness, his twisted white face becoming a mask of rage. His face moved 
closer to hers. 

"No!" she screamed and, with a start, realized she was lying on the floor of her 
apartment completely alone. It had been a nightmare. She shivered as she 
recalled his face with horrifying detail. Sometimes having a photographic memory 
was an indescribable torture. She grimaced with the effort of hauling herself 
back into the chair. Without looking at the screen, she struck the keyboard 
violently, shutting down the computer. There was a hum and then silence as one 
by one the images on the screen were replaced with blackness. "I wish it were 
that easy for me," she said aloud. Being alone so much had put her in the habit 
of talking aloud to herself. 

Some believed that talking aloud to yourself was as a sign of genius, but 
Barbara saw it for what it really was: a sign of isolation. She shook her head 
violently as not the images, but the very feeling of the terrible moment caused 
her skin to tighten. Shivering, she drew her nails across her bare arms leaving 
lines of raised, red scratches. 

"No," she told herself firmly, "I will not go there again." She said as she 
remembered what she had been through in her first few weeks after the shooting. 
She grinned darkly as she recalled just how close she had come to using the gun 
her father had given her some years before. "But, Dad!" she had said, "what 
would I ever need this for? Come on, Dad, you know me. I can take care of 
myself." And she almost had. She could still remember the way it felt -- pure 
power, manifested in the cool, heavy weight it exerted in her hands. The power 
to end the hurting. The power to clear her mind of those images. The power to 
make it all just stop. But something had stopped her. She didn’t care what. From 
that point on, she had never considered it again. "No," she repeated once more, 
"I won’t go there again." 

Sighing, she re-started her computer. If she knew Dick, and she did, he would be 
trying to track down that web site address. "That’s the last thing I want," she 
mumbled to herself as she effortlessly hacked into the computer in the Bat Cave. 
After three minutes of typing, she turned around to go make some breakfast. 

***

"Well?" Nightwing asked in an agitated tone. 

"Almost got it," responded Robin, who sat at the computer terminal, typing 
diligently. 

The screen when black. "Hey!" started Robin in confused protest. "What? What 
happened? Why did it just shut down like that?" Nightwing asked anxiously. It 
was at times like these that he wished he had paid more attention to what 
Barbara had tried to teach him about computers. 

A sentence formed in small white letters appeared in the middle of the giant 
screen. It simply said, "I will handle this by myself." 

"Oracle," Robin said. 

"No," Nightwing corrected him, "Barbara Gordon." 

***

It had taken her less than twenty minutes to find the address of the web page’s 
owner. Kyle Tethers, a senior computer science major at Gotham University. She 
knew what she had to do. 

"Now how to get there," she mused as she tapped her head with a pencil, "that’s 
the hard part." It was too far for her to go on her own, but she refused to go 
on the bus. The whole ordeal with the lift and the obnoxious "BEEP BEEP" as they 
loaded her on was humiliating and ridiculous. She did not want Dick’s help. The 
last person she wanted to let in on this was her father. Her list of drivers was 
growing shorter by the second. Alfred? No, as much as she loved him, he didn’t 
know everything about it and she wanted to keep it that way. She frowned as she 
realized she had one final option. "Bruce." 

***

"Bruce?" 

Bruce Wayne set down the morning paper and looked up at the very serious Dick 
Grayson standing before him. From the look in Dick’s eyes, Bruce could tell it 
was bad. "Sit down," he said in a grim voice, Batman’s voice. Not the voice he 
used with the rest of the world, the voice of ‘Bruce Wayne, playboy 
extraodinare’. 

Dick pulled up a chair and sat across from him at the small table. He looked 
outside for a while, losing his sadness in the beautiful view. Finally, he 
turned to Bruce and spoke. "I saw them, Bruce. I saw the pictures of Barbara." 
His voice, which had remained remarkably steady, cracked at the very end as he 
spoke her name. 

As Dick expected, there was no reaction from this mentor. So, he continued. "And 
when I saw them, I wanted to kill him. I want to kill him for what he’s done. He 
doesn’t deserve to live. But after the initial shock and anger, a different 
feeling set in. I looked at the Barbara in the picture, and then at the one in 
the room with me, and couldn’t see them as the same person. How is that 
possible?! How is it possible for her to hide that part of herself so well? It 
makes me think that I don’t even know her at all." Dick was looking directly 
into Bruce’s eyes as he said his last sentence. It was clear that he was talking 
about more than just Barbara. 

Bruce sat in silent thought. Each of them – Bruce, Dick and Barbara – now had a 
deep emotional scar that had effected the very path of their lives. Dick had 
dealt with his parent’s death in part by becoming Robin, but in greater part by 
confiding in Bruce and being open and honest with his emotions. Bruce, on the 
other hand, had turned inward with the death of his parents, creating a dark 
part of himself that would never go away, a part of himself that had manifested 
itself in the form of Batman. Barbara had also turned inward, but instead of 
hiding behind a cape and cowl, she had hidden her pain behind a computer screen. 
It was ironic that, behind their respective masks, Bruce and Barbara were very 
similar people. 

"Because, Dick, she doesn’t want you to know about that part of herself." Bruce 
replied simply. 

Dick wasn’t satisfied with this answer. "But why? I – care about her…" he 
finished quietly, The word ‘love’ had been on the tip of his tongue, but 
something had stopped him. 

"Then leave her alone." 

Dick jumped up from his seat, "What? Like you? Like you were left alone? Barbara 
deserves better than that! No, I won’t leave her alone, alone to become like 
you. She’s not like you. I know her! I know that she needs me, and that… that I 
need her." 

It was at that point that Alfred stepped in. "Excuse me sirs, a phone call. It 
is Miss Gordon." 

Bruce grinned. Alfred did always have a knack for jumping in just in the knick 
of time. This is exactly what Dick needed. 

"Tell her about it," Bruce suggested, unoffended by Dick’s outburst. Dick rose 
to take the phone from Alfred. 

"The phone call," Alfred paused, "is for Master Bruce." 

Dick stood there stunned as Bruce picked up the phone. Bruce’s face did not 
betray any of the surprise he felt inwardly. 

"Hello, Barbara." 

Pause. 

"Yes, certainly." 

Pause. 

"No, I won’t." 

Pause. 

"Your welcome. Anytime." 

Pause. 

"Goodbye, Barbara." 

Bruce hung up the phone gently and picked up the newspaper once more. Dick 
waited expectantly. "Well?" he finally asked. Bruce looked at him over the 
paper. "I’m sorry, Dick, but it’s a private matter." 

Dick kicked over his chair and stormed out of the room enraged. As he left he 
heard Bruce say quietly to Alfred, "I’ll need the van. I’ll remove the backseat 
myself." For Barbara’s wheelchair, Dick reasoned. She was leaving her house. 
"Well she’s not going anywhere without me," he said quietly to himself as he 
jogged off toward the Bat Cave. 

***

Nightwing did not realize how long he had been on the rooftop until he saw the 
sky melting into a deep red as the sun began to set. His body tensed with 
anticipation as he heard the sound he had been waiting for all day: the sound of 
a van coming to a stop across the street. He watched intently as Bruce exited 
the van and entered Barbara’s apartment building. 

After a few minutes, they both emerged. In Barbara’s hand was a sealed manila 
envelope. Bruce lifted her gently from her wheelchair and placed her in the 
passenger’s seat. Then he took the wheelchair to the back, and lifted it up, 
slamming the trunk door behind it. He got in the black van, and it sped off. 

Nightwing followed closely behind, gliding through the air, jumping from 
building to building and riding atop nearby cars. After twenty minutes of 
trailing them, he realized where they were headed: Gotham University. 

The van stopped at one of the dorm buildings and Bruce got out of the car to 
take out Barbara’s chair. Nightwing waited patiently on a nearby rooftop. Bruce 
rolled the chair up to the passenger’s side and turned his back to pick up 
Barbara. In that fraction of a second, Nightwing removed a small gun from his 
belt and aimed at the back of her chair. With accuracy some would have 
considered inhumanly possible, he managed to place the bug in an inconspicuous 
place on the back of the chair. He adjusted his earpiece. 

"Thanks, Bruce, I’ll take it from here." 

"It was my pleasure. I’ll be down here waiting. Take as long as you need." 

With that, she turned and moved toward the doors of the dorm. 

Nightwing smiled as he listened to her talk to herself. He hadn’t known that she 
did that. "It’ll be just my luck if this place is too cheap to put in a lousy 
elevator. Where the hell does all that tuition money go anyway?" she mumbled as 
she searched for an elevator. 

"Ah-ha!" came her triumphant voice, followed by the distant sounding ‘bing!’ of 
the elevator door opening. 

"Baby! Bapabapabapa. Oh sugar, sugar! Bapabapabapa. You are my candy girrrl, and 
you got me wanting you…" she sung quietly as the elevator rose. Nightwing 
grinned and fought back a laugh as he listened. This was the Barbara he knew. 
"Ok, Babs, just relax. You’re in control, don’t worry about anybody else. Forget 
about how he’s going to look at you. You are a person. You are not worthless. 
You can do this on your own; you don’t need any body else. Not now, not ever." 

Nightwing was stunned. Was this how she really felt? He felt his eyes sting as 
he began to realize just how much pain she had been hiding behind that fabulous 
smile. His mind inadvertently switched back to the pictures. No! He shook his 
head as if to clear it. 

That is not Barbara! He wouldn’t let himself think of her like that. The ‘bing’ 
of the elevator, indicating to him that she had reached her floor interrupted 
his thoughts. Nightwing listened she mumbled the room numbers to herself. "528, 
529… Bingo! 530." Silently, he glided to the dorm building and walked along the 
ledge of the fifth floor, watching through the windows, waiting for one of the 
room’s occupants to rise and open a door. He listened as Barbara knocked softly. 
A tall, blond haired young man rose from his bed to go open the door. Nightwing 
positioned himself carefully by the window and waited. 

He opened the door. Nightwing’s first thought came without pause, ‘God, she’s 
beautiful.’ Her long, dark red hair framed her beautiful, smiling face. Even 
from that distance he could see the depths of her shining emerald eyes. Not to 
mention her body. Nightwing blushed at the thought, then immediately chastised 
himself. ‘You’re not a little kid anymore, Grayson,’ he thought to himself, 
‘there’s nothing to be ashamed of.’ He closed his eyes as his thoughts drifted 
back to his childhood. He could see them together, flying through the night sky: 
Robin and Batgirl. ‘Wouldn’t mind seeing her in that skintight costume again 
sometime,’ he thought as he grinned slyly to himself. 

Whether she was Batgirl, Oracle, or just plain old Barbara Gordon, she was the 
most beautifully amazing person he had ever known. He cringed as his train of 
thought became corrupted by the dark images of the Barbara he loved in pain, and 
in the arms of the Joker.  Once more he shook his head and pushed the pictures 
to very depths of his mind and focused on the scene before him. 

The young man who opened the door was obviously surprised, and made no effort to 
break his rude stare. Barbara broke the silence. 

"Yes," she nodded her head with a light, infectious laugh, "it is a wheelchair." 

The young man blushed and stepped backward to let her in. His stare, however, 
did not stop. 

Nightwing narrowed his eyes as he realized that the man wasn’t staring at the 
chair itself so much as the legs in it. He gritted his teeth and remained 
silent. 

The young man sat down across from her in his desk chair. "I’m sorry, do I … 
know you?" he asked, his voice sounding as if he were reaching back into his 
very subconscious. 

"Yeah, you do. But maybe you just don’t recognize me with my clothes on," 
Barbara replied with a straight face. 

The young man jumped, obviously uncomfortable and confused. 

A smile broke out on Barbara’s beautiful face, indicating it had been a joke. 
‘Not really,’ thought Nightwing grimly as the pictures flashed into his mind 
once more. The young man smiled back, trying hard to contain his delight at 
having the gorgeous, funny girl in his own room. Nightwing shifted uneasily. 

"Kyle Tethers," he said as he stuck out his hand, "but I guess you already know 
that." 

She did not extend her hand. "Hello, Kyle, my name is Barbara Gordon." 

Silence. 

"Now do you know who I am?" 

Stunned, he rose from his chair. He paced about the room for a few seconds and 
finally looked back in her direction, but he would not look her in the eye, "I’m 
so sorry… I mean, for- I didn’t know that, that… Well I…" he stuttered. 

"Sit down," she commanded in a voice no longer full of laughter, "I have some of 
my own pictures to show you." He sat and she reached for the manila envelope. 

"This," she said as she pulled out a picture and handed it to him, "is a picture 
of me at the state gymnastic finals." Nightwing peered through the window and 
could see the picture. A smiling ten years old Barbara, a heavy gold medal 
hanging from her neck, with her father holding her tight in a loving hug. 

"This one is at the Junior Olympics," a picture of a race, a teenaged Barbara 
out ahead of the others, just passing the finish line. 

"Here’s a picture of my favorite birthday present," it was a picture of Barbara, 
her arms around both Dick and Bruce, standing atop Mt. Kilimanjaro. The trip had 
been their birthday present to her. 

"And this one is of me walking on the beach with a friend," Nightwing's eyes 
finally spilled over with tears as he saw the last picture. Barbara, in a black 
string bikini, and Dick, also in his bathing suit, were walking arm in arm 
beside the turquoise water. He noted the mischievous grin on his face in the 
picture, seconds later he had picked her up and thrown her into the ocean. She, 
of course, had dragged him down with her. He could still remember what she had 
said as he had started walking away, "Oh no, Richard Grayson! You’re not going 
anywhere without me!" And then she had tackled him. 

Kyle sat quietly, not knowing what to say. Barbara continued. She looked him 
straight in the face and spoke in a steady, emotionless tone. "But when I close 
my eyes, these aren’t the pictures I see. No, the only pictures I see are the 
ones you have up on your web site. I can’t even look in the mirror anymore." She 
faltered, but added quietly, "I hate what I am now." 

There was an uncomfortable pause as she collected her thoughts once more. 

"Nobody who has seen the pictures can see me as I really am, or was. I can see 
it in their eyes when they look at me. They don’t remember Barbara Gordon the 
gymnast, the track star, the mountain climber. All they see in their mind are 
the pictures and all they see when they look at me is this chair, and they see 
me as Barbara Gordon, the victim. Nobody, not even myself, looks at me the same 
anymore. Maybe this really doesn’t have anything to do with you, or your web 
site. But I just felt that I had to come here and tell this to you, probably 
more for my benefit than for yours. I am a person. That moment doesn’t define 
who I am. That’s not who I am! I am not a victim!" her eyes began to overflow 
with tears as she yelled to herself. 

With amazing self-control, she regained her composure and looked up into the 
young mans now terrified face once more. "The Joker and what he did to me and my 
father was not a game, it’s not a TV show, or a comic book, it’s real. The woman 
in those pictures is a real person." It was nice to say, but she herself wasn’t 
convinced. Regardless, she continued. "So, please, look at me." 

He did not dare lift his eyes. 

"Look at me," she said. 

He raised his head and looked into her steady, green eyes. There was no more 
pity in his eyes, only a confused look, not quite understanding, but headed in 
that direction. 

"Good," she said softly as she took the pictures from him and turned to go. 

He stood and opened the door for her. 

Right before she exited, she paused and looked up at him. "Oh, and one more 
thing, I almost forgot," she grinned mischievously as she added this next part, 
"If I were you I would get those pictures off the site as soon as humanly 
possible. You probably know that my father, the Commissioner, has some very 
powerful friends. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if one of them burst into your 
room one night to kick the shit out of you." 

He gulped and whispered, "Batman?" 

Barbara smiled mysteriously and nodded her head toward the window, "Actually, I 
was thinking of the one sitting by your window. He’s the one you’re really going 
to have to look out for. He’s got one of those white-knight complexes." 

As Kyle turned his head toward the window in fear, Barbara made her quiet exit. 
Nightwing, too, made his own silent exit, thinking it much more terrifying to 
leave it to the young man’s imagination. How had she known he was there? He was 
sure that she hadn’t spotted him. There was no way. Her voice interrupted his 
thoughts. 

"Nice try, Boy Wonder," she snickered. "I know you, remember?" and in a more 
serious tone she continued, "I knew you would follow me, but I figured you 
needed to hear what I had to say as much as I needed to hear it said." She 
continued with a laugh, "and I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to talk about it 
when you break into my apartment sometime late tonight." 

Nightwing watched carefully as she exited the building and headed for the van. 
As Bruce lifted her up to place her in the passenger’s seat, she wrapped her 
arms around her neck and gave him a peck on the cheek. 

"Thank you, Bruce. Thank you for everything." 

Bruce set her down in the seat and stood in silence for a moment. How could she 
thank him? It was all his fault. Everything was his fault. This beautiful, 
intelligent, vibrant young woman would never walk again. Why? Because he had 
failed her. And now she was forgiving him? She was so innocent, so pure, how 
could she live with what he had done to her? He wished that he would one day 
find in himself even a fraction of what he saw in Barbara. If he did, then he 
might be able to fill the gap that existed in his soul: A gap that, as of now, 
could only be filled by becoming Batman. 

He took her hand in his and simply said, "Good work, Batgirl." And then, taking 
the first step, he smiled. 

A slow smile spread across Barbara’s face as well. 

They stood there for a while, each taking comfort in their newfound 
understanding. 

***

She felt the cool night air rush into the room softly. She lay on stretched out 
on couch reading a book. She didn’t even bother to lift up her head. 

"You’re pretty late. I was just about to go to bed." 

There was no reply. 

She set down the book and looked at him. With his mask taken off, she could see 
into the depths of his clear blue eyes. And what she saw there made her gasp 
with surprise. The look was gone. 

Instead, it had been replaced with an almost palpable gaze of sorrow. But there 
was something different about it. 

"Dick," she hesitated but continued slowly, "what’s wrong?" 

He walked toward her and knelt beside her, keeping eye contact the entire time.  
"I got to hear how you feel, now I think you should hear how I feel." 

Barbara shook her head and pleaded, "Dick, it’s late. Can we talk about this 
some other time?" 

He shook his head and a small grin spread across his face, "No, Babs, we can’t. 
But don’t worry, it won’t take long to say." He slid in next to her on the 
narrow couch and leaned on his elbow so he could continue to look into her eyes. 
"It’s really very simple. When I look at you, I see us flying from the 
rooftops." He chuckled and continued, "I see you telling bad jokes and beating 
up guys twice your size. I see you running and jumping. I see the most 
beautiful, most courageous, smartest, most stubborn, kindest person I’ve ever 
met." She remained silent as his eyes began to overflow with tears. "I see 
Oracle, I see Batgirl, I see Barbara Gordon." He paused and looked down for a 
moment. In one quick motion he raised his head and looked into her eyes 
intently, "I see my true love." 

They lay staring into each other’s eyes silently for minutes. Finally, Barbara 
spoke. 

"Oh, Dick," her voice trembled with emotion as she spoke softly, "I love you 
too." 

She lay her head on his chest and he hugged her tightly. She closed her eyes and 
breathed softly. 

He smiled as he kissed the top of her head lightly, "Oh no, Barbara Gordon! 
You’re not going anywhere without me." 

END

Addendum: Recently, in Nightwing #43, a picture mentioned in this fic was 
'published'. 

http://www.crosswinds.net/~birdsofafeather/main/pics/both/bikini.jpg  

Visual much?