All of the characters and story lines and everything else I can think of are the property of DC comics and the WB network. The only bits that're mine are the words and the voice.
Chapter 4: Anger
"Thirty-eight. Thirty-niiiiine, Fourrr--unnnph! Damn!" Barbara's chest smacked the floor, hard. She lay, panting on the mat, sweat pooling beneath her. A towel sailed through the air and landed on top of her head, falling over her face.
"Don't get so frustrated. Your strength's coming back way faster than anyone expected." Dick's light footsteps stopped at her side. "Come on—dry off. It's time to call it quits. You can work out again, tomorrow. We'll have you back to full strength in no time."
Barbara muttered something beneath the towel.
"Pardon?"
"I SAID, 'WHAT'S THE DAMN POINT?'" She snarled.
Dick was silent. She felt his sympathy. It only served to make her angrier. She didn't want his damn sympathy. She didn't want him pushing her all the time. She didn't want him around every blessed minute, reminding her every damn second of what she'd lost, reminding her of what she'd never be. She didn't want him looking at her, touching her, helping her.
In more rational moments, she felt horrible about the way she'd been treating Dick these past five months. He'd been so kind, so supportive. He'd dried her tears. He'd listened. He'd cared. He'd comforted her as she began to deal with her returning memories of what had happened to her at the hands of the Joker. She wouldn't have made it through her father's funeral without him, nor the grieving afterward. He'd encouraged her through the difficult, painful rehab, and he'd helped her find this great loft at the top of New Gotham's clocktower and to re-learn to care for herself.
She was just so angry. So angry. So angry!!!! And all of the anger within her was raging, straining to be unleashed, to hurt, to wound, to make someone else feel as miserable as she was feeling. And the only someone else around was Dick. Besides Alfred, of course, but she just couldn't imagine taking anything out on Alfred. Alfred was just so…English. Dick, on the other hand…
It made her furious that he was so nice to her all the time. How dare he be nice? He made her feel like an invalid, treating her feelings with kid gloves, being all sympathetic and kind. What did he know about pain? He led a charmed life, Dick Grayson: ward of Bruce Wayne, the multi-billionaire, secret superhero Nightwing, able to fight crime and do any number of acrobatic stunts. His life was happy and fulfilled.
In her heart of hearts, she knew better. Dick was no stranger to pain. He had been orphaned as a boy before Bruce had taken him in, and he always carried the mark of that terrible grief in the back of his eyes. And, she knew his heart was just about breaking ever since he'd found the letter from Bruce the week after the Joker had taken his terrible revenge. Bruce had been broken by those events. So used to being strong, he couldn't handle the grief and the shame of having been unable to protect those he loved. He had given up, left, abandoned them.
Barbara wasn't sure if she would ever be able to forgive the bastard--or her father, for that matter—for abandoning her right when she needed them more than she'd ever needed anyone in her life.
Snatching the towel off of her head, Barbara silently dried herself off, threw down her towel, and flipped herself expertly into her chair. Her prison. Smacking off the brake, she wheeled around and headed for the shower.
Dick watched her go, perplexed. Could he really be losing her, too? First his parents, then Bruce, now Barbara: anyone he'd ever called family. His growing sense of disconnection alarmed him. Who was there left to turn to? Where could he go with his own pain, his fear, his growing despair? Was he doomed to the life of a lonely vigilante: fighting crime by night, leading an unfulfilled, loveless existence by day? A lifetime of empty, orphaned existence stretched before him like a forgotten road through the desert.
Sighing dejectedly, he bent over and picked up the towel and placed it gently in the laundry bin. Everyone seemed to be better off without him. Maybe it was time…