She didn't like funerals. For her they were always awkward and she never knew what to say, but in her short life she had become accustomed to them. Of course she would, considering for the majority of her life she had lived in a place like Gotham. Plus the fact that her father was an officer, a good officer that attracted the good cops, who had always seemed to die in the past, she should have been used to this entirely. This funeral, was another good cop that had gotten stuck in the wrong situation and this funeral, was an entirely different situation.

"Barb." James Gordon, or Commissioner Gordon as the city knew him as for two years, "I'm sorry you…"

"Dad," She sighed, "if you apologize one more time, you'll have to lock me up in Arkham."

"You shouldn't have come home to this though…"

"Honestly," Her eyes gazed around the room, "I wish I could be surprised."
"Barb, don't be like this…"

"Be like what, dad?" The steadiness in her voice had started to rise and Gordon knew his daughter was about to let out the tears that she had been holding in for a week. "Like a cynical, bitter, widow?" Her eyes began to tear up, and she looked around frantically at the space that what seemed like hundreds of people, mostly officers and officials had shown up in. "These people didn't even…"

"Come here." Jim led her away from the crowd of people and mostly away from her dead husband's casket in the front of the room. Sadness and guilt started to creep in as he led her to the one room in the whole funeral home that was sheltered from the hoards of people. He sat her down, and pulled up a chair from behind him to sit in front of her. "Dick was a good guy and all these people are showing up because…"

"They want to get in good with the…"

"…they knew him, and many of these guys grew up with him." His head nodded towards the rooms filled with people. "He was loved by a lot of people and always laughing. He died saving…"

"I know!" Tears began to freely stream down her face and she was happy she didn't wear make-up. "That's what they keep telling me, dad, that my husband died saving lives and I should be so proud of him."

"You should be, Barb." He wiped a tear from her cheek. "But most importantly, he loved you and you never doubted it."

"I loved him." Barbara sighed and tried to smile for her father, "It's been rough. I haven't been able to look through his things that they gave me from his locker or even go back..."

"I know." Jim said gently. "Let's stay here for a few more minutes before going back out there." He gave her a sideways glance. "I need to a break from all those suck ups."

"Thanks." She snorted.

"For what?"

"Making a terrible joke in a terrible situation."

Bruce made his way around the room quietly; luckily he knew the ways of the police force and knew his presence was more of a nuisance than anything. They were busy wrapped up in the stories of the fallen young man laying in the casket. He knew that through the chuckles that would come during a few stories, there was a realization amongst the force that the younger the member, the harsher the reality of dying was for the rest of him. Admittedly some went their deaths because of mistakes or stupid happenings, but Dick Grayson was not that death. His death was heroic and many took notice. Even the mighty Bruce Wayne felt the need to admire the young man lying silently there, while his family broken down in front of everyone, except for one, his young wife.

"Mr. Wayne." The voice of Mayor Garcia caught his attention. "I'm surprised you came out for his occasion."

"I felt as though I should attempt to honor the man that saved my employees." He had been right there beside Grayson, and watched as he took his last breath, it was one of the deaths that would haunt Bruce forever. Even being Batman, he heard the last words on Grayson's breath, and felt the tinge of jealousy.

"The whole incident is very unfortunate." Garcia nodded. "We owe our lives to men like Officer Grayson."

"I agree." Bruce turned to mayor and stuck out his hand. "Mayor."

He took it and sensing his time to leave, the mayor went the opposite that Bruce went. At this point, there was a feeling of familiarity that Bruce tried to reject right away, but he that this wound was too deep not to notice. As he looked towards the opened casket, memories of his parents lying there returned. The pain that was there then, was returning. The pain that he felt at Rachel's funeral was even more overbearing. She did not get this. Her body had been mutilated to the point that all there was left to do was cremate it. There was no good-bye, nothing. The grave that was lying beside her father's was empty, every time he went to it he knew that and felt that it was a meaningless task to give her flowers every week.

Bruce notice that Grayson's wife reappeared, with her father in tow, patting her shoulder and whispering to her as they started to make their way to the casket. She seemed reluctant, even as Gordon encouraged her. Bruce knew exactly what she was feeling. Moving towards that casket, meant facing the fact that the person lying there was gone. The body was an empty vessel and nothing was left but the pieces of a broken life. The pathway to the casket was empty and she and Gordon were the only people making their way up there.

Barbara was far too young to loose a husband, everyone knew it and it was painfully obvious. Bruce watched the two carefully as she finally made it to her husband's body. She stared at it for a minute then went to reach for him. Her hand highly unsure, scared, of what he would feel like. Bruce's heart broke for the girl. Finally she touched the cold, lifeless hand with her fingers and quickly pulled them back but then she cover his hand with hers. The wedding bands touched and Bruce knew that this was moment that she would never forget and he neither would he because the pain of pure loneliness hurled through his body and what he had left untouched for two years boiled up in him. However, as quickly as it had come, Bruce forced it back down with all his might. This was her pain today, not his, and this could never be his pain.

Barb felt her husband's cold hand and couldn't get over how cold it was and how fake it felt. This was the hand that she took when she was sixteen for the first time. This was the hand that caressed her cheek when she cried because she thought her father was dead. This was the hand that she had given to him to put the ring on her finger. And it was the same hand that was given to her for a promise that was supposed to last longer than three years. But now, it was freezing, fake, not the man that she loved.

Then, the sound of bagpipes began to play, as they do at every civil servant's funeral and she did something that she loathed more than anything, almost anything, she cried. Jim hugged his daughter closer to his body as he felt her knees start to give way. Her shoulders shook as the sobs racked her entire body. Although the tears came, she felt no shame. This was something unexpected and she was rejecting it by crying. The whole scenario playing out before her was false. She could not accept that this was happening by any means. Dick Grayson was not lying in that casket, he was going to poke his head around the corner any minute and tell her it was a sick joke and he was sorry for making her so upset. Barbara could not take this any longer, this was not something she could deal with right now, maybe in fifty years. Her surroundings began to swim and her knees became weaker.

Jim held on to his daughter as she began to collapse. He was surprised by her reaction and wasn't prepared for her to completely give out. Although she was only five foot, even and barely a hundred pounds, the unexpected reaction, didn't give him enough time to react properly and he grasped at her, not wanting her to fall. Suddenly she became lighter and he looked up to see another surprise. Bruce had come to the aide of the father and daughter, taking some of the weight as Gordon adjusted and they both helped her to a private corner of the room.

"Thank you, Mr. Wayne." Gordon gave a grateful look as they both sat her on the couch. "I think she's just realizing everything that's happened."

Barbara opened her eyes and refocused. Shocked to see Bruce Wayne standing over her, next to her father, her eyes narrowed. Jim crouched down next to his daughter, sensing her apprehension towards the man.

"Mr. Wayne helped you get away from that crowded room." Jim told her quietly.

"Thank you." She quickly wiped away her tears. "It was the bagpipes that got to me. I'm just happy they stopped playing."

"Mrs. Grayson," Bruce spoke up. "I know that so many people have been telling you this and you can take this with a grain of salt, but I just want to say your husband was a good man and he loved you very much. I am in debt to him for saving my employees and company."

"You weren't even there Mr. Wayne." Her brow quirked. "You don't even know my husband…"

"Babs." Her father quietly growled.

"No," She stood up, "If it weren't for his precious building then I would be laughing with my husband instead of sending him to his grave. How much do you really care about your employees and company, Mr. Wayne?" Not letting him even answer, she continued, "You're rarely even there! Does it really matter to you that one officer has died? Why are you here? You have no idea what these men deal with every day to protect your precious building and employees." She inhaled. "I appreciate you coming, please leave." After a moment, she stifled up some more fight within her. "And it's Dr. Grayson."

"Your loss is great Dr. Grayson and Gotham's even greater." Bruce nodded towards the Commissioner and then to Barbara. He rightly turned around and left the two together. Bruce weaved through the throngs of people and dodging anyone that tried to stop him. He wanted out of the funeral home and was glad to see a black car waiting for him. Quickly getting inside, he was greeted with Alfred's questioning eyes.

"Didn't go as well as you hoped?" Alfred turned around.

"Dr. Grayson, wasn't exactly happy to see me there." He sighed.

"Rightfully so."

"Alfred?"

"Sir?"

"Is there any way to repair Bruce Wayne's reputation at this point?"

"You have to ask him that, sir." Alfred said knowingly, "But look at the bright-side, sir."

"And that is?"

"Bruce Wayne's reputation cannot get lower than Batman's."

"Alfred." Bruce tilted his head. "You always know exactly what to say, don't you?"

"It's a gift, sir." He smirked. "Where to or are we going to sit in this bloody car all day?"

"We're going to the cemetery," He glanced out his window at the funeral home and saw a woman holding the hand of a child walk up the stairs to the funeral. She stopped, looked around, feeling his eyes on her. Her eyes assessed him; her wavy blonde hair fell in her face when the child tugged on her arm. The child, who had dark, wavy hair said something, which made the woman smile and pick her up. The woman was obviously uneasy when she looked back at him and saw him blatantly staring at her. He caught a good glimpse of her face and only for a fleeting moment did he think it looked familiar, but he was still too preoccupied with the eldest of the Gordon's children loss. The woman hurried inside. Bruce sighed to himself, people were still uneasy in this town no matter how good it was going to get. "So yes, we are going to have to sit in this bloody car."