"Did something happen to you?"

I shake my head no.

"Are you sure? I could fly you to a hospital because it sounds to me like you have aphasia."

I fight the urge to shrink myself in an attempt to get away as I again shake my head no, while somehow managing not to roll my eyes.

Sure, he saw my power (I think so anyway, I've gotten good at making it look like I'm not using it) but I hate having to explain that I do not, technically, have aphasia.

Plus I really hate the way he's looking at me.

I don't need help. My brothers taught me to fight. Why can't you just go back to Metropolis, since that is your city, and leave me alone?

Even though I know he can't read minds (his friend the Martian can) he does eventually leave. Albeit, not after handing me a Daily Planet card for a Clark Kent, explaining that he can get in touch with Superman for me if I take him up on the offer of joining the League.

Get in touch with. Right.

Please. I know that trick from Dad. Clark Kent can "get in touch with Superman" because he IS Superman.

Just after I put the card in one of my cloak pockets, Tim shows up.

Thank God. He can play interpreter because the people I helped still haven't left me alone and I don't think they know sign language.

You'd probably be surprised by the number of people I meet every day who don't. Can it be frustrating? Yes. Was I about to use the convenient text-to-speech app on my phone? Yes, but I prefer sign (especially Irish sign but I meet even less people who understand that) and, whoops, I actually left my phone at home.

I really have got to stop doing that. It's a really nice one that my sister Babs (Dick's wife) gave to me.

Tim, it turns out, has my phone, so the situation ends up getting settled pretty quickly.

Soon, we're at a café because, hey, it is lunch time and having a talk about all that's happened.

It ends with me handing the card to Tim. Bonus: He's a brother I can talk fantasy with and I love it.
_

Tim's P.O.V
_

So my younger sister's a hero. Okaaay.

She seems nervous talking about this which would seem kinda weird (given how much you know about our family) but, due to her anxiety and speech issues, she's never actually been in the field.

Yeah, she's a Meta and she knows how to fight but this is Gotham. She should, at the very least, know how to defend herself.

After handing me the card, she sighs then signs The look on his face really made me wish I could actually talk.

I know that she can get pretty bummed out sometimes over her inability to talk. Some people can get pretty mean about it.

Sometimes it leads to her letting her frustration out on a punching bag.

One day she was crying and screaming while doing it. Needless to say, we found the guy who led her to doing that and got him good.

Though, after that, she's stuck to online classes. She actually got her associate degree fairly recently. You should have seen the smile on her face. Brighter than a 100 watt bulb.

We had a party to celebrate. She was humming which we know she does when she's really happy. (When she's scared, on the other hand, we try to keep her from shrinking, though she did get down to 6 inches once. We found her because Bruce heard her speaking in tele-ka-babble, or as Alfred calls it "Miss Ash's language.")

She sips her hot apple cider.

"Are you going to do it?"

Her hands start shaking so badly that she can't sign.

I smile and take her right hand in both of mine. "Well, even if you don't, you're still a hero to me."

A smile slowly makes its way across her face. She takes her hand from mine, shrugs her shoulders then signs Tim, I don't have a uniform, let alone a hero name.

I grin, wide and toothy. "Well, we can take care of that pretty quickly."