A/N - This is nothing but a completely fluffy, schmoopy, overly soft happily-ever-after romantic ending to "The Killing Joke" movie. You'll probably want to have seen that first for context. I liked the open ending in the movie personally, but, well, I LOVE ROMANCE OK and my brain insisted on writing the HEA. You've been warned for completely unnecessary tooth-rotting fluff.

Her mouth was dry. That was the first thing that Babs registered, before tuning back in to the beeping of the machines, and the ache in her head and the worse pain in her abdomen and her back and - oh, God.

She wished she could go back a week in time. Before she'd slept with Batman, before she'd given back her Batgirl suit, before she'd gone and ruined their tantalizing dance. She'd never dance again now, would she?

And as for Batman?

Had he really stopped by last night, or was that a nightmare, too? She'd pleaded with him to save her dad from the Joker. At least, she thought she had. At any rate, Batman had done it - of course.

Her dad had been slumped over in the hospital chair next to her bed this morning when she'd woken up from all the drugs they'd pumped her full of. He'd been barely awake but refused to go home, kept blubbering apologies and blaming himself for what wasn't his fault.

Babs hoped that if her dad was still here when she managed to open her eyes, that he'd at least have managed to doze off if he wasn't going to go home and sleep properly. He'd been through an ordeal with the Joker, too, after all - not that he cared, given her own condition.

God. She'd gone from being Batgirl to being paralyzed for life in the space of three weeks. Worse, she'd gone from an almost nearly there relationship with Batman to literally fucking it up in the worst way possible. She'd foolishly hoped that maybe if she gave the suit back - maybe if she got out of the game - then maybe they'd have a chance to make them work.

But now? Babs drew in a shaky sigh, and was surprised when a hand that she hadn't noticed holding hers squeezed it tight.

"Barbara? Are you waking up?" Babs opened scratchy eyes and saw Bruce Wayne seated next to her bed where her dad had been.

"Did he -" she tried to say, but her throat was too dry. Damn meds, most likely.

"Here, take a sip," Bruce said, letting go of her hand and bringing a cup with a straw to her mouth. Babs sipped the water gratefully as she flicked her eyes around the room, scanning for her dad. "I insisted Jim go home to sleep," Bruce said apologetically. "He didn't want to leave you alone, so I promised to stay until he came back."

"Thank you," Babs said in a clearer voice when she let go of the straw. "He can be so stubborn."

"Runs in the family, I think," Bruce said, quirking up a corner of his mouth.

Babs liked Bruce. He wasn't really the shallow, spoiled playboy that he often came across as. Babs knew that for sure, even though she didn't know him as well as her dad did. Bruce and her dad had met when her dad was the lowly beat cop who'd reported to the scene of the Waynes' murders, finding a shaken, heartbroken, eight-year old survivor. Her dad had steadfastly reached out to the traumatized orphan ever since, forging by this point an unshakable bond.

Bruce was a bit older than Babs - she hadn't even been born when his parents had been killed - so she hadn't known him when she was younger. She clearly remembered when she'd first really realized that Bruce Wayne and her dad were friends, though. It was after her mom left.

Bruce had to have been only in his early twenties back then, although to an eight-year old Babs he'd looked anciently adult. He and his sort-of dad Alfred the butler began the habit of showing up unannounced at the Gordons' apartment after her mom's abrupt abandonment. Babs always had to answer the door herself, because her dad would be sitting on the couch with his head in his hands, unmoving and staring at nothing, even as the door knocker rapped.

But once inside their small apartment, Bruce would pull her dad upright and drag him out, to ball games and batting cages and movies and bowling alleys and pool tables, her dad would tell her afterwards. Alfred would babysit Babs while they were out, cooking up delicious confections in the kitchen with her, reading her stories - the long, dense chapter books that her teacher said were way about her grade level - and not even batting an eye when Babs would turn on the old school Kung fu movies that her dad said she wasn't old enough to watch. Alfred used to call out the names of the different attack moves to her and sometimes afterwards he'd even show her how to do some of the kicks and punches, if her dad and Bruce weren't home by then.

Bruce had been so kind to them, such a good friend, so it was no surprise that he was here now in the hospital with her. Her dad had always seemed a little less lost after coming home from spending time with Bruce, all those years ago. Babs had crossed paths with Bruce less frequently over the years, especially once her dad felt ready to face life again after his divorce, but Bruce had always been present on the edges of Babs' life, tethered to her father as a stable, steady source of comfort for him. Much the way that her father was to Bruce, Babs suspected.

"How are you feeling?" Bruce asked her, his blue eyes looking so sad and concerned as he set the cup of water back down on her bedside table.

"Can't figure why my head hurts," Babs said, lifting a hand up to gently rub at the bandages. "Stomach and back make sense at least."

"How bad is the pain?" Bruce said. "They have you on a morphine drip, but I can ask them to increase it -"

"It's ok," Babs said. "Manageable."

"Ok," Bruce said awkwardly. He cleared his throat. "You, uh, hit your head when you fell. When you were shot. But it's not a concussion, at least," he said.

"Lucky me," Babs sighed bitterly. Bruce grimaced in agreement. Joker hasn't raped her, either, despite stripping her and taking photos. That was lucky, too, Babs knew - and it wasn't that she wasn't grateful, but feeling gratitude for anything felt damn near impossible at the moment.

"I'm so sorr-" Bruce started to say, but Babs cut him off.

"Don't," she said sharply. "Please," she added in a near whisper. "I can't - I can't take pity right now," she said, tightening her jaw and refusing to cry. She felt one soft word away from breaking down. At home, maybe, when she was safely away from prying eyes, she'd let herself bawl. But in public? In the hospital? Even with the door to her private room shut, she wouldn't let herself.

The last thing she wanted was for the Joker to hear about his victim sobbing uncontrollably about her shattered spine and paralyzed legs. Fuck him. She was stronger than he was - just like her dad - and she'd be damned if she gave that freak the satisfaction of knowing he'd gotten to her mind as well as her body.

"I understand," Bruce said quietly, swallowing hard. "I do hope you'll let me give you money, though," he said after a minute. "For therapies, assistive devices, remodeling your apartment for mobility access, whatever you need. I know your insurance won't cover nearly enough. They even make cars that para- paraplegics," he forced himself to say the obviously painful word, "can drive. The gas and brakes are arm levers."

"I've always been more of a motorcycle girl, myself," Babs sighed. Bruce's eyes lit up.

"I bet Wayne E. could fashion some kind of bike with a portable wheelchair attached," he said. "An ultra light-weight one that disassembled somehow and could be mounted on the motorcycle frame ... maybe the bike wheels could even pop off to be used on the chair," he said, clearly getting ramped up with ideas. Which was kind of cute and very sweet and made Babs smile, even though her heart ached.

"That would be pretty awesome, actually," she said. "I guess accepting your rich-ass company's free research and development prototype would be ok with me," she said.

"And all the other money, too," Bruce insisted. "For whatever you need. Please," he said, when Babs hesitated. "What's the point of being rich if I can't help my friends when they need it? I'll be miserable if you won't let me help, truly."

"Ok," Babs said softly. "Thank you," she added, and Bruce nodded.

"It's the least I can do. I wish it was more," he said in a raspy voice, squeezing her hand again in his. Which felt oddly hard and calloused, almost as tough as Batman's - no - she couldn't think about that - about the way he'd pulled his gauntlets off to fuck her, about his hands all over her skin, the way his fingers had intertwined with hers -

"It means a lot that you care," Babs said to Bruce, mustering a smile even as his fingers wouldn't let hers go.

"I do care, Barbara," he said, his voice lowering to a deeper growl. "More than I should," he added in an even lower timbre as he leaned forward, "about just one person."

His bass sent oh so familiar shivers skittering down her back, to what she'd assumed were her permanently non-functional nether regions, but it was his words - the words she'd said goodbye to him with - given back to her from Bruce Wayne's mouth in Batman's voice - that made Babs bite back a gasp as her eyes went wide, because he couldn't be - it was Bruce - he was - nodding at her ever so slightly, with tears in his eyes, and reaching a hand forward to tenderly cup her face as he bent down and kissed her.

It wasn't like their electric, impassioned night on the rooftop. It was slow, sweet, thorough. Bruce's tongue licked into her mouth and Babs sighed into it, looping only her free hand around his neck when the hand he had joined to hers wouldn't let it go.

"Tell me this isn't because of what Joker did," Babs said suddenly, pushing Batman's uncovered face back. "Because if you weren't already planning this -"

"I love you," Bruce said to her, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

"You can love someone and still intend to let them go," Babs argued.

"Barbara," Bruce growled out in frustration.

"Bruce," Babs said back. "Be honest with me. Please," she begged. "I haven't heard from you for three weeks. I was beginning to think I never would again."

"I didn't want to let you go," Bruce said, drawing back slightly, "but I didn't know how to move forward, either. You giving up - your role," he said cautiously, despite the door being shut, "was non-negotiable at that point. We couldn't keep working together in the field. We both knew it. I didn't know if what we had between us could last without - that other piece."

"Were you going to try to find out?" Babs insisted.

"Maybe," Bruce said after a long pause.

"Maybe? Or no?" Babs said, frowning.

"Maybe," Bruce said, looking more open and vulnerable than usual as he gazed into her eyes. "I hadn't decided. I thought about you every night," he said, turning his hand backwards to brush his fingers across her cheek. "I was trying to think of other ways we could work together without compromising ourselves - you behind the scenes with Alfred, maybe," he said. "If you had wanted to. I missed you," he said roughly, finally letting go of her hand to hold her face with both hands, and then Babs' eyes were filling with the tears she hadn't wanted.

"I missed you, too," she sniffed, reaching for the Bat and pulling him back into a kiss.

"Is that a yes?" Bruce breathed against her lips before pressing kisses over her wet cheeks.

"A yes to what?" Babs asked.

"Forgiving me. Dating me. The Bruce Wayne me," Batman said, kissing her eyebrows. "And - the rest of me, too."

"Yes," Babs whispered, running fingers through his hair like she hadn't been able to on their night together, since he'd kept the cowl on. She sniffed suddenly, though. "I'm so glad we had sex before - this," she said bitterly. "But are you gonna mind? Me not being able to …?"

"Not being able to what?" Bruce murmured, kissing her nose now. Babs turned her face to look at him.

"Get off anymore when we have sex," she said miserably. Bruce's eyebrows went up.

"Who says you won't be able to get off?" he said. At Babs' look of confusion, Bruce gave her a suddenly tender smile. "Sweetheart, you really don't know?" Babs slowly shook her head side to side.

"They haven't exactly given me the Paralysis Welcome Packet yet," she said.

"Mm, well, I researched sex with paraplegics after getting home last night," Bruce said. "For your sake," he said quickly. "Not mine. I wanted to know how it would work for you, what you could feel, what I could offer you. Most paraplegics can still orgasm," he said.

"Get out," Babs said, a tiny ray of hope starting to fill her eyes.

"It might feel different than - that night," Bruce said with a sexy but sorry smile, "and it might take a little work to figure out how to do it and what works best for you, but I promise, Barbara, it's one hundred percent possible and we will figure it out together. Assuming you want to," he added.

"Hell yes, I want to!" Babs grinned. "Thank God," she said, wrapping her arms around Bruce's neck and allowing a few tears of relief to fall into his shoulder. "I just assumed with paralysis that my sex life was completely over," she mumbled.

"Our sex life is just beginning," Bruce said reassuringly. "But I'm glad, too, that we had that night."

"I thought afterwards that I had ruined everything," Babs admitted.

"Funny," Bruce said. "I thought I ruined everything by falling in love with you in the first place."

"I love you, too, you know," Babs said, suddenly feeling shy.

"I was hoping," Bruce said seriously. "I was worried it might just be hero worship."

"It wasn't," Babs said. "I mean, it was at first, but then it was so much more than that. And now, knowing you're you? Bruce, you're one of the kindest, most loyal people I've ever known. My dad wouldn't have gotten through my mom leaving if it wasn't for you and Alfred. I don't think I would have, either."

"I wouldn't have gotten through losing my parents without Jim and Alfred being there for me, too," Bruce said honestly. "And we'll all get you through this together, baby," he said, bending to kiss her again. He raised his head when they heard a familiar throat being cleared.

"Bruce, Barbara," Jim Gordon said, standing in the now open doorway and looking damn pleased.

"Hi, dad," Babs said, blushing a little as Bruce sat back in his chair, although he scooped her hand up in both of his and brashly grinned at her father.

"How long has this been going on?" her dad asked as he kissed her cheek before sitting down across from Bruce. Babs slid her eyes to Bruce, suddenly unsure what to say.

"A few weeks," Bruce said easily. "We didn't want to say anything until it was more serious, but …" he smiled at Babs, warm and bright.

"Now it's more serious," Babs said softly, and Bruce nodded his agreement as he drew her hand up to his mouth and kissed it.

"That's the best news I've heard all day," her dad said with a weary smile. "I couldn't ask for anyone better for my Barbara," he said fondly. "Or for you, son," her dad added to Bruce. "Obviously," he grinned with fatherly prejudice.

"I feel very lucky," Bruce said quietly, looking down at Babs with love shining out of his eyes.

"And I feel very -" Babs paused. Lucky? Yeah, right. Grateful? The word still made her want to vomit. #Blessed? Not even going there.

"Loved," Babs finally said, looking from Bruce to her dad. "I feel very loved," she said, blinking away soft tears.

"You are," Bruce said with deep assurance, kissing her knuckles some more.

"Always," her dad promised, squeezing her other hand in his.

Her life was far from perfect. Farther than it had ever been, maybe. But her dad was alive, and Batman loved her and wanted to date her.

Just for today, for Barbara Gordon, it was enough.

The End

A/N - Thanks for reading! This one was sugary, even for me, but what can you do when the muse won't leave you alone? I almost didn't share it, but I know there's some BruBabs shippers out there who might appreciate it, so... I buried my embarrassment in Jason's empty grave.

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