A/N This is a post-Killing Joke story-even though I didn't like the way the story was handled, I wanted to write something about Barbara's struggles after the shot that took away her legs.

I love Barbara's character... she's second only to Jason and probably equal to Dick in my opinion, so I hope that I've done her justice here.

I think I should point out, too, that this veers away from the original story and is closer to the what my understanding of Barbara's background in the New 52 comics is. The main difference being that Gordon wasn't present when Barbara was shot, so the Joker never abducted him. Instead, his plan was for the Commissioner to find Barbara like that on the floor of her apartment when he came to visit.

There are several people I want to thank: one being Merrit, who has read all that I have so far and who has acted as beta for this story. The second being a friend who shall be known simply as Batgirl, one of the many nicknames we have given her. She has also read everything I have so far and her enthusiasm has kept me going. I also want to thank Purplehood, who has been encouraging with every story I've attempted! Without them, this wouldn't be here!

Disclaimer: I don't own DC, or related characters.

Prologue: Open Windows


Dick crouches atop the building across from the Gotham General Hospital, his blood raging in his ears.

The traffic continues on beneath him, drivers oblivious to anything but their own need to get where they're going, and he is acutely aware of every horn blow, every screech from the tires below, even though his thoughts are occupied elsewhere.

The lights are on in the hospital, most of the curtains are closed tight, masking his view of the patients inside, but that doesn't worry him.

He knows which room he's looking for.

His lips form a grim line and, effortlessly, he swings across the street, landing gracefully on the sill outside one of the rooms.

He's had plenty of experience breaking and entering-that sort of thing comes with being a vigilante-so opening it up and getting inside is no problem for him.

In fact, getting in is almost painfully easy.

Dick slips in, feet making no sound as they hit the floor. His heart is thudding in his chest, and his mouth suddenly feels dry.

He takes a step further into the room, noting the heart monitor, its shrill beeping keeping a steady pace… and then his heart stops as he sees her.

"Barbara," Dick breathes. She looks so small, so fragile, there in the hospital bed, red hair scattered about her head like a halo.

He wants to step forward, to take her hand at the very least, but he doesn't.

Something holds him back.

Dick's eyes fall on the form of the Commissioner, asleep by his daughter's bedside, and all at once he feels like an intruder in someone else's life.

He shouldn't be here.

He doesn't deserve to be here.

He wasn't here.

Not when it counted.

Not when the woman who's been like a sister to him for most of his life and who's come to mean so much more to him than that took a bullet to the spine courtesy of a madman with a point to make and a gun.

He should have been there.

There's a low moan and Dick's eyes snap to the Commissioner's sleeping form. He's starting to stir and, even though he knows he has the man's trust, he doesn't want to be here when he wakes up.

Before the man has a chance to finish opening his eyes, he's gone, not even a trace of his presence left behind.


It's the brush of cold air that wakes Barbara.

Slowly, she cracks her eyes open. Her room seems so empty, so cold and uncaring. This is supposed to be a place of healing, so why does it feel so wrong?

She stirs and then gasps, lying still, eyes focusing up, as the movement causes a dull pain in her abdomen to start up again.

Below that, she doesn't feel anything.

Maybe, under different circumstances, if it didn't mean what it means now, she'd be thankful for the lack of feeling… she's never been a big fan of pain, but Barbara would give anything to feel pain right now if it meant having the use of her legs.

If it meant getting to soar the rooftops again.

Because this paralysis is permanent.

Batgirl is finished.

Restlessly, she scans the room, but no one else is there and she frowns.

There's a grunt to her right and her eyes snap quickly to identify the source of the noise.

Her father is in a chair that looks far too small and hard to sleep comfortably in, blinking at her, bleary eyed and rumpled, having just awoken from a slumber that was probably anything but restful.

He's still in his work clothes, she realizes, and, at once, tears prick the corners of her eyes.

"Dad?" she whispers, fingers clutching the bedspread.

"Hey, Babs," he answers, leaning forward. He offers a smile, but it's so small and his eyes are tight and filled with pain.

She knows it's killing him to see her like this. To know that there's nothing he can do to grant her back the use of her legs.

To know that he's already too late to stop the madman who did this to her.

Gordon pulls his chair closer to the bed and brushes Barbara's hair away from her face, grasping her hand with his free one.

"How are you feeling?" he asks and Barbara considers the question for a moment.

She's never going to walk again.

How does she feel?

Angry.

Desperate.

Scared.

Defeated.

But Barbara doesn't say any of those ugly words.

Instead, she turns her head away, squeezing her eyes shut as if she's seeking out sleep, but really, it's to hold back the tears that threaten to spill if she doesn't.

"Tired," she tells him when she's finally ready to meet his eyes again.

"Okay." His hand tightens around hers and it dawns on Barbara that they're both just pretending. Both pretending to be okay when they're very, very not. "You should get some more rest."

He leans over, pulling her gently into a hug. Barbara returns the gesture, wrapping her arms around him tightly, relishing his presence, his strength.

Suddenly, she's eight years old again, being comforted after a bad fall off the balance beam in Gymnastics class, and she never wants to let go.

But, all too soon, he pulls away, keeping a reassuring grip on her hand.

And then suddenly, she remembers something.

"Dad, was anyone else in here?"

Her father gives her a strange look but shakes his head. "We're alone."

Barbara settles back against the pillow, gaze drifting to the window.

Somehow, she knows that's not true.

Or at least that it wasn't.

"Barbara?" her father asks, concern lacing his tone.

His eyes follow her gaze to the window, but there's nothing there.

Not anymore.

"Are you okay?"

Barbara nods, turning to face him again. She gives his hand a squeeze. "Yes. I'm fine."

He smiles sadly and leans back in his chair, accepting her answer.

Or maybe he doesn't accept it.

But he's choosing to believe it.

For now.

Because he has to.

Because she has to.

Because more than anything, Barbara just wants to be fine.

Barbara's eyes slide back to the window, wondering if maybe Bruce had changed his route to check up on her.

That thought stays with her as she slowly sinks back to fitful sleep.


A/N The next chapter should be up next week, provided I have the time to post. I have up to chapter six (technically chapter seven- remember, this is only the prologue after all) written, so I hope to have this finished soon.

Please leave a review! I'd love to hear what you think!