Chapter Six

"What do ya' wanna do now?" asked Helena after Ms. Lockwood had left. Helena was pacing like a caged animal behind the settee. Barbara sat in her chair directly across from Helena.

"For now, I'd like to talk to you," Barbara replied.

"No one 'talks' to me," said Helena bitterly, framing the word "talks" with her index and middle fingers. "They scream at me, yell at me, cuss at me … they never, EVER 'talk' to me."

"Then permit me to be the first," said Barbara calmly. "Sit down a moment," she said as she gestured towards the settee.

Helena stopped pacing and sat down. "What do ya' wanna talk about?" she asked.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"Why are you committing these crimes?"

"I HATE being confined!" Helena ejaculated. "I ESPECIALLY hate being confined with people who think I'm a freak … and who let me know it every chance they get!"

"I'm assuming that's why you ran away."

"Yeah," said Helena quietly.

"Why'd you steal?"

"I was on the street … I was hungry," said Helena. "I had to eat. An apple here, a pear there … you know, something to feed my face." Helena sighed. "I guess it's inevitable. I mean, my mother was a crook." She paused. "Guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, huh?"

"I don't believe that," said Barbara softly. "Genes don't make criminals … choices do. Your mother, Joker, Penguin, Riddler, Two-Face … they did what they did because they made the decision to do so. Genetics had nothing to do with it." Barbara paused. "If someone as hardened as your mother can walk away from a life of crime, so can you."

"How do you know about those guys?" Helena asked.

Barbara smacked her lips. Oh, Lord, she thought. "Are you aware that your father had a … 'secret life'? "

"You mean Batman?" Helena asked. "Yeah … so?"

"There's something … about me … you must know," she said, measuring her words carefully. "I … was once … a superhero. I fought alongside your father under the name 'Batgirl'. "

"That would explain the remark about you 'working in law enforcement'…"

"…Without being a cop."

"What happened to you?" asked Helena, gesturing at Barbara's wheelchair.

"I was shot by a madman who called himself 'The Joker'," said Barbara. "I was shot on the same night that your mother was … killed."

"God," exclaimed Helena. "I'm so sorry…"

Later that night, Helena lay awake in her bunk in the Clocktower, silently arguing with herself.

You can trust her … she's not like the others.

I have to know.

She doesn't appear to have the others' attitude problem. If anything, she seems to be a bit of a maverick.

As much as this hurts, this is something I have to do. I have to be sure. I have to know.