Chapter 2

(As tricks(*) will be explained at end of chapter)

She rolled over to her main computer set up. Her head was spinning from drinking one glass too many. Despite the late hour, Barbara was pretty sure that Bruce would still be awake pacing in the Bat cave or prowling the cities, interrogating a thug or two that might know. The latter was probably true. It took one ring from his phone to answer it.

"What have you found?" She understood that this was no time for pleasantries and he wasn't being rude, he was feeling scared. Telling Bruce word for word what the program had found but before she could warn him that it was probably a trap, he ended the call. He's just worried, you would be too if it was your dad.

Finding Alfred was more important than anything Barbara had ever dealt with. Even being put in this wheelchair so many years ago, the possibility of losing Alfred hurt so much more. He was - is - everything to Bruce; a father, a friend, a guardian, a mentor, and a hero.

-Clock tower-

As the night progressed, there was no new information on Alfred. Before she realized the time, she noticed sun rays peaking through the the giant hands of the clock. She took off her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose. She turned off her monitors, only leaving the B.U.T.L.R*. program running, setting it with an alarm to go off any time there was anything that could lead her and Bruce to Alfred. No matter how long it takes, she is determined to find him even if it kills her or drives her mad, which ever comes first. "I guess staring at six different monitors for 15 hours straight can be hell on the eyes, even when you're used to doing it for at least 10 hours every day." She put her glasses back on and rolled to her bedroom. Bruce and his use of the Wayne Foundation spared no expense when he created The Clocktower for her. After her accident caused by Joker landing a bullet through her spine, Bruce wanted to give Barbara a place to be safe, to be away from everyone else, and still be hidden in plain sight. She could see out, she could see the entire city, but no one could see her.

The Clocktower was so Batman'esque. A hidden button, when pushed, her bookcases disappeared and her computer set up rose from below the floor and a hidden side door was revealed where her apartment was. The only entrance into her fort of solitude of solitude was a hidden, voice activated, elevator and a chimney sized entrance on the roof that only Batman could get through. She rolled to the door that lead to her studio type apartment. "Maybe a shower will help me feel better..." as she shifted her weight in her chair, rubbing her lower back.

The bullet obviously didn't kill her, it just left her in a lot of pain, not just physically but emotionally and mentally. Some days were harder than others and today was one of the hard ones. She started the shower as she stripped and slid from her wheelchair to the shower chair. She let the warm water hit her back feeling it loosen up the muscles. She ran her fingers across her lower back and felt the raised red permanent scar going vertically up her back. A part of her wanted to cry and another part of her said to suck it up, at least she was still alive. Washing her legs was another reminder of what happened. They had become so thin. The only reason they had any muscle to them at all is the billionaire Bruce Wayne paid for the top physical therapist in Gotham. Drying off, she slid back into her chair and rolled to her bed. She sighed a little as she transferred from the wheelchair to her bed. Opening the bed side drawer, it was full of medications she was tired of taking but would probably feel even worse if they weren't taken. Of course every single one of them said "DO NOT DRINK ALCOHOL WITH THIS MEDICATION", a warning she ignored.

* = Basic United Team Recovery