Almost a week since my last update. SHAME ON ME! I turned 17 on Saturday... Yay. This chapters a bit shorter than normal by about 300 words I didn't want to start anything new in this chapter, still enjoy. Review please!

Disclaimer – I only own Charlotte, Aspen, Chase and their alter ego's – everything else belongs to DC Comics and whatever.


Nightwing's Daughter – 9

Insomnia


"No daddy no! Don't let her take me!" I run to him, he's already in uniform, a gun he never uses attached to his hip, and a shiny new police badge proudly hanging from his belt. He scoops me up, twirling my around. I laugh and laugh, I feel like I'm flying. There's a light laugh behind. Completing his final twirl dad comes to stop. We're faced with mom. "Oh no baby, I think mummy bat heard you!" We laugh at each other as mom shakes her head, reaching for the car keys, I cling tighter to dad.

"Come on you, the sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave." She makes to grab me; I throw dad a horror filled look, clinging to him if possible, even tighter. "No, no, no, no, no!" I protest as mom plucks me from his warm arms, I look back to dads laughing figure. "What are you planning to do to her Babs?" She sighs somewhat happily as she tries to wrestle the unhappy four year old version of me into her tiny brown jacket. "I'm taking her shopping Richard, grocery shopping." I look up at dad with a cute it's-the-end-of-the-world glassy eyed gaze. It was his turn to give me a horror filled gaze. "Barbra Gordon, how could you subject our little girl to such torture?!"

"I normally wouldn't but I didn't have a choice, you're working, Bruce is busy training Tim, dads in hospital, I don't want to put all that pressure on Alfred at such short notice, and besides I haven't spent any time with her lately." Dad nods in understanding, but to me it's a nod of ascent, the nod that had sealed my fate. My determined little face turns cold as I spin on my heal and head to open the kitchen back door that I could not quiet reach yet. Dad gasps in mock pain, they both laugh at me as one of them opens the door and they both follow me out to the cars. They both exchange a kiss, I look away pointedly, they laugh again. "Bye princess." I don't answer dad as he gets in his cop car.

We walk around for what seems like hours in the supermarket, hours and hours. Picking up carrots and potatoes and other nasty grown up things that adults liked and kids hated but were forced to eat. I tried my best to run to the kid section, and by run I mean activate ninja mode. I almost got there too, but was caught expertly around the middle by an experienced mom as I made a unsuccessful dive for the giant teddy bears. "No, so close..." I giggled as she tipped me upside down and carried me like that back to the shopping cart. She smiled down at me, my own upside down wonky grin on my lips. "Because you're not your father's daughter at all are you?" I shook my head mutely as she finally gave in and wheeled both me and the inky green stuff to the check out isle.

The cashier cooed at me sweetly as she scanned the items, "Do you wanna pappa love? There's a god awful story 'bout the Joka and Batgirl in there." My eyes widened as I looked at my mom who was paying by chip and pin. Seeing my face she threw me a not-to-worry-smile, but I couldn't help it. "Ok, yes I'll get the paper thank-you." The blonde lady nods and puts the paper on top of one of the bags. "Have a nice day now honey-pie" coo's the cashier as my picks me up fondly and carrier both me and the groceries to the car. Once the stuffs in the boot, and I'm all strapped in at the back, she sits next to me with the paper in her hand.

"Hey baby, it's ok. Batgirl didn't get hurt last night. Look." She shows me the picture of herself all dressed up in her crime fighting uniform. "Not a scratch." She signs as I give her a sceptical look. "Momma, what happened?" I had always known of the family business,- I was likely to go into myself some day as an acrobat – but mom and dad both kept the night shift talk to a minimum around me. "The Joker wanted some money baby, actually it was a lot of money... and grandpa and I weren't going to let him have it. He got angry and told use that for every day he didn't get his money a rich person and there family was going to get hurt." I gasped. "Don't worry though all the likely targets are being watched right this very second, the Joker won't hurt any of them, I promise."

With that she leant over and kissed my forehead, getting out of the back, to sit in the driver's seat. "Was Grandpa ok?" As she began to back out of the packing space she looked in the rear-view mirror "Yeah baby he's fine." I smiled happily, looking out of the window. It was beginning to snow, the road could be icy in some places, mom drove slowly but that didn't stop her from skidding sometimes.

It happened so suddenly all I remember was mom telling me she loved me over the frantic skidding of the car. We collided front first into a giant oak tree on the opposite side of the road to which we'd been driving. I tried frantically to undo my seat belts but they were jammed, the car set had tipped against the window, blocking me from view; I called for my mom who was slumped and unmoving in the front seat. From where I was sitting I could just see blood trickling from her temple. I began to cry. In the distance I heard the familiar sound of cop cars and ambulances. And then the sound of a cry that even to this day broke my heart.

"THAT'S MY WIFES CAR!" There was yelling and shouting as people ran forward. I heard the car door being cut open, frantic sobs of desperation from a devastating voice. "Babs? Babs? Oh god Babs, please honey no!" I heard someone murmur that she was dead, "Dead on impact." They said. My tears became thicker and faster, my sobs louder. Even a four year old knew what that meant. "Charlotte? Charlotte?" Dad ran frantically to my side of the car in the back, ripping open the undamaged door almost off of its hinges, tarring me from the car seat. He cradled me in his shaking arms. Stroking my hair which was damped from his flood of tears.

Out of the corner of my eye I now noticed it. A card. His card. Nailed to the tree. The Joker.

-N.D-N.D-N.D-

I screamed, shooting blot up right. Luckily into his arms. I sobbed like a baby for goodness knows how long. He muttered soothingly into my tangled hair. He must of heard me crying. He knew what had caused the tears, because for me, the nightmare had always been the same, ever since her death. We sat there the two of us in the dark. Both of knowing that neither of us would sleep for the rest of the night. One shaky legs I got out of bed, opening my curtains and leaning my forehead on the cool glass of the window. I saw his ghost white face reflected in its surface, the elongated transparent glass making his facial features gaunt and hollow. Or maybe they were always like this on nights like these.

"To real." I murmured my grip tightening on the window sill for support. "Always to real." He got up, dragging the duvet off of the bed and pulling it around me. "Isn't it always?" I sighed, the breathe hitching in my throat. I nodded into his chest. "It will never leave you, but it will get better over time." It had been thirteen years, the nightmares were becoming less frequent, that didn't make them any less frightening.

Dare I tell him that when I was away at college it was dreams like these that caused my insomnia? Vey similar dreams. The Joker was still the killer, they just had one key difference, he died. Every single time. And every time I was always just a little bit too late to catch him. To save him.

No you would only upset him further. Don't give him any more reason to worry. It will be ok. What's one night of unrest for all the good days you've had recently? You finished college, you're in the middle of reforming a criminal, you've got a great network of family and friends supporting you. I decided to let it be.

There was only one thing threatening that. One thing that always threatened. Him and sickly white face and red lips. He had been the reason I became Sparrow, why I trained even harder to become Starling. I had watched him get away with it for thirteen years, and each crime, each innocent death at his hands, just spurred me on further. Made me train harder, made me push myself further, it was all leading up to this moment. The Joker wasn't doing to get away with this. For any of it. Not anymore. I vowed that day, he would pay. And now, thirteen years later it was time for him to pay up.

The greatest game of cat and mouse – no, rat and bird - was about to take place, and on my life, I wasn't going to let that sick gnarled vermin out of my talons until his crocked whiskers topped twitching.