Chapter 5

"Pain has an element of blank;
It cannot recollect
When it began, or if there were
A day when it was not.
It has no future but itself…"
-Emily Dickinson, "The Mystery of Pain"

Tim hated the way hospitals smelled. He wasn't sure if it was because they really did just smell bad or if he hated the smell because it meant that someone he knew was hurt. His mother had been taken to the hospital and never made it out. His father had been kept in one for months as he recovered. And there were too many other instances to count.

And Tim was taking AP Calculus. He could count pretty high.

There wasn't anything else he could do, though. He had to talk to Barbara. When he was honest with himself, he wondered why he was going at all. If Dick and Alfred together couldn't make her understand, what kind of chance did he think he stood?

That was the question that kept him waiting down the hall. He paced three steps forward and three steps back, the space carefully measured to keep out of the policeman's and the various nurses' line of sight. His hands were stuffed deep into his pockets to keep himself from making wild gestures as he argued with himself.

Really, he wasn't even arguing with himself. He was arguing against the guilt that had slowly been building for weeks. The guilt for not being enough to keep Bruce from leaving, the guilt that he wasn't the right person to help Helena, and the guilt for what he'd done the day before.

Bruce definitely wouldn't be happy if he knew that Tim had let Gibson falsely implicate someone. Even if they did deserve it.

Tim thought that maybe he did it just because Bruce wouldn't like it.

Oh, well. Alfred would understand. Dick would understand. Barbara would-

Tim swallowed thickly as tears once again stung his eyes. 'Babs wouldn't even care.'

Tim clenched his fist and just narrowly got control back before he punched a hole in the wall. 'Well, then I'll make her care!' Wasn't that what he'd done for Bruce? Make him start caring again so he'd stop spinning out of control?

So what if it hadn't been enough to make him stay? He had to try.

Tim straightened his back, set his chin as stubbornly as he could manage without looking like he was five, and grimly marched towards Barbara's hospital room. He nodded to the guard outside the room, then his hand was on the doorknob and he was walking inside.

The room was bright with the afternoon sun slanting through the window, but there weren't as many flowers in the room as before. Tim mentally added up the days and realized they had probably been taken out of the room because they were beginning to wilt. 'Well, good.' There hadn't been enough space in the room with all the flowers, anyway.

Gordon was slumped in his chair, but made an effort to straighten himself up when he heard someone enter. He seemed to relax when he realized who it was. 'That's right,' the teen thought bitterly. 'Relax. It's just Tim, nothing at all to worry about from him.'

Barbara had been looking straight up at the ceiling, but turned her head when she heard someone coming in. She looked even more tired than her father did. 'No, not more tired,' Tim amended, 'more… worn. Oppressed.'

"Hey, Babs," he said, smiling a little. "How're you doing?"

The question seemed to throw her for a few moments. "Sore," she finally settled on.

Tim blinked. "Sore?"

When it became obvious that Barbara didn't feel the need to elaborate, Gordon explained. "She started her physical therapy yesterday."

Tim grinned. "Hey! That's-"

Barbara had looked away again, and the pain etched on her face had nothing to do with muscles. Gordon was looking down at the floor.

"-not good?" the teenager questioned.

Barbara shrugged.

Gordon sighed.

Before he could answer for his daughter again, Tim asked Barbara "Do you know Gibson?"

There was one second's pause. Then two.

Barbara glanced over, a frown of concentration on her face. "From the high school?"

Tim nodded, valiantly trying to cover his surprise.

Gordon's jaw dropped open.

"Kind of small, a little nerdy, has a crush on Helena a mile wide?" Babs' voice sounded far away, like she was trying hard to make the words heard.

"Yep, that's Gibson," Tim said, grinning. "Would you believe he got into a fight yesterday?"

"With whom?" she asked, frowning.

The teen's grin widened. "Helena."

Normally, that would have made Barbara laugh. She didn't. But she did smile just a little bit.

Gordon stayed very still, afraid that if he breathed too loud the spell would be over.

Tim felt guilty for what he was about to do. "He was trying to make Helena talk about her mom."

The smile was gone immediately, but the look she gave him was one of long-suffering patience rather than outright anger. "Tim…" she warned.

"I've been trying, Babs," he said, not even bothering to try to keep the plea out of his voice. "But I didn't know her before. She won't listen to me."

"There are others-"

"There's no one else!" he interrupted urgently. "She's only coming to school for half the day. I've followed her, and I know she doesn't go back to the children's home right after school. She sits by the pond all by herself, Babs. She's all alone."

"Tim," she said firmly, although still not angrily. "Listen to me. I started physical therapy yesterday." She paused and looked away. When she looked back, there was steel in her gaze. "I couldn't even sit up, Tim. I… I couldn't even sit up. There's nothing I can do."

The teen's gaze never wavered, but it filled with compassion. "You iwill/i, Babs. You'll get up." He paused, and in that moment the compassion waned and the plea came back. "But that's not what Helena needs."

Barbara began to blink rapidly and he knew that she was trying not to cry. "I can't, Tim. I'm sorry. I can't."

He wiped at his own eyes and slowly approached the bed. He took her hand in his and squeezed it gently, but he wouldn't say that it was okay.

Babs didn't ask him to. She gave his hand a squeeze back.

Shoulders heavy, Tim took a few steps back and said, "I'll see you later, Babs."

"Bye," she said, watching him go with relief.

'Well, now,' the commissioner thought, leaning back in his seat. 'Isn't that interesting…'

Helena didn't know why she was surprised.

She didn't know why she suddenly wanted to stay, either.

'Yeah, the world's just filled with mysteries that no one cares about,' she thought to herself, staring up at the ceiling. The moon was shining through the window, and left an elongated pattern of crooked branches and straight window pane that went up the wall.

That kind of thing had scared her when she was little. Now she thought it was almost pretty.

Helena had gotten used to tracing the pattern across the ceiling and down the wall on the other side as the nights wore on. She had never really needed much sleep, so that didn't bother her. The thing that got to her was that it was never really quiet.

There was always someone moving around or murmuring or even crying in their sleep. Some of the kids had lost their parents like her, some of them didn't even remember their parents, and some of them prayed that they'd never see their parents again. A lot of them had regular nightmares and woke everyone else up.

Maybe it would be better at the next place.

Helena shook her head at herself in disgust. 'I can't believe I have to convince myself that this is a good thing.'

Abruptly, she sat up and crept out of bed. 'The hell with this!' she thought. She didn't like this place, anyways. If she was leaving, she might as well have a blast on her way out. She heard some stirring, but not more than there had been before she started moving. It only took her a few moments to get dressed, and not much longer slip out the window she'd rigged the sensor on weeks earlier.

A short drop, and then she was off. Gibson was on her way downtown, so she figured she'd invite him along. He was really annoying, but once she had a few shots she wouldn't notice. Besides, he'd been trying to be nice to her and lately he had been looking way too stressed out for his own good.

Using the Kyle-family route across rooftops, it only took her twenty minutes to get to the Kafka household. Gibson had his own room on the second floor of the house. She made sure no one was watching, and gathered herself to leap to the top of the porch. Landing gracefully, she carefully made her way across to knock on Gibson's window.

She could have just tossed a pebble against the window, but that was way too cliché.

Gibson stirred, but didn't wake up.

Helena knocked louder.

Gibson put the pillow over his head.

Exasperated, Helena knocked louder and quicker, hissing, "Gibson!"

"Holy crap!" he exclaimed, jerking awake. He shot up, got tangled in the blankets, and fell off his bed with a wind-milling of both arms.

Helena just shook her head. "Gibson, come on!" she whispered again.

"Geez, you sounded like Woody Woodpecker on crack!" he whispered back, finally coming back and opening the window.

She frowned. "What does he normally sound like?"

Gibson opened his mouth to respond, paused, and shut it again. "What are you doing here?" he asked instead.

"I'm going out. You wanna come?"

He blinked at her a moment in disbelief. "It's one in the morning."

Helena raised an eyebrow.

"We have school tomorrow," he said more insistently.

"So?" Helena asked, smirking.

Gibson took a deep breath and was about to try to persuade her to go back home, when he finally noticed what Helena was wearing. After that, he pretty much lost all of his reasoning faculties. Oh, he knew he still didn't have a chance with her; he wasn't that unrealistic. But she looked really hot in that… and Gibson distinctly remembered Tim saying that Helena needed someone to be there for her.

On the other hand, if he was caught, he'd get grounded for the rest of his life. Plus, he had a test in the morning. Having the perfect memory wasn't going to help him if he fell asleep halfway through the test.

But when was he going to get another chance to party with Helena Kyle?

"Give me two minutes," he said.

Helena grinned and disappeared from his window, presumably to wait for him.

When Gibson finally stumbled home the next morning, stopping to puke in the petunias in the front yard, his parents were waiting for him at the kitchen table. He was grounded for a month and he ended up sleeping completely through that test.

But it was worth it.

For one more night, Helena was safe.

"What time is it, Daddy?" Barbara asked, frustratingly aware of how infantile she sounded.

Jim sighed and struggled to be patient. "A quarter 'til."

She paused, valiantly trying not to ask.

The commissioner only rubbed tired eyes and pretended to read the paper.

Unable to stand it any longer, she clenched her eyes shut and gave in to the urge. "A quarter 'til what?"

"One."

"Oh," she said, picking at her blanket.

Jim reread the same sentence for the eighteenth time.

"Jessie's coming at two, right?"

"Yes, sweetheart," he said. He paused for a moment, and then asked as gently as he could. "Would you like me to call her and ask her to come early?"

"No!" Barbara knew she had answered too quickly as soon as the word was out of her mouth.

Her father put down the paper and looked at her, his brow furrowed in concern. "Is everything okay?"

The redhead nodded and looked away, willing him to drop the subject.

"Do you like Jessie? We could find you another physical therapist-"

"Jessie's fine, Daddy," she said, exasperated. She was hurt, not stupid. She knew that the physical therapist wasn't the issue.

"Right," Jim said, running his hand through his hair. "Well, if you change your mind…"

Barbara shrugged and looked away.

Jim sighed and looked back at his newspaper article. The disappearance of Batman and Bruce Wayne from New Gotham were both huge blows to the city. Oh, sure, no one really knew that Batman was gone, but Jim knew the two disappearances weren't coincidental. It was the same events that had driven both away.

With Batman's disappearance –

"What time is it?" came a sheepish voice.

Once again, Jim startled out of his thoughts and checked his watch. "One thirty."

"Oh."

With Batman's disappearance, catching the criminals would be a whole new ballgame. Nightwing and Robin were both trying to do their part, but those names didn't have the almost superstitious ring to them that Batman did. The word "Batman" was whispered, even in the brightest light. Nightwing and Robin just didn't inspire the same awe.

And the loss of Bruce Wayne was nearly as bad. He might have been known as a billionaire playboy, but that's why the city loved him. His own parents had fallen prey to the random violence that plagued the city and yet he still lived. He still went to parties and smiled for the camera and donated more money to local charities than anyone truly knew. He had been a beacon where Batman had been a ghost.

People were just beginning to realize that something was wrong. Most had still not guessed, but they could feel the pulse of their city beating erratically. It was just a matter of –

"Daddy, what time is it?"

Jim took a deep breath and counted to three before answering. "Almost two, sweetheart."

Thankfully for both their sanities, Jessie picked that moment to appear, ever-present clipboard in tow.

"Hey, guys. How are you feeling, Barbara?"

The redhead sighed. "Sore."

Jessie grinned at the frankness of her answer. "Unfortunately, that's to be expected." Then her face got more serious. "How's the pain in your back? The same as before?"

Barbara looked away for a moment, considering, and then nodded.

"What about the wound in your stomach?"

"About the same."

"What about your incisions? Any more pain there?"

Barbara shook her head.

Jessie nodded, satisfied. "Good. That's what we want. Pain is only okay in your muscles. If you get any other pain, tell me." She looked at the redhead lying in the hospital bed and added, "And I mean right then. Don't wait and tell me later. Okay?"

Barbara looked chagrined, and Jim thought that the physical therapist had her pegged.

There was a moment's silence and then Barbara looked over at her father and asked, "Dad, could you please… leave… again?"

For a split second, Jim was hurt. And then he realized that this was the very first time since the shooting that Barbara had wanted to do anything on her own. They had both been tricked into leaving her alone for the first session of physical therapy… and every other time Jim had to leave she would tense her entire body with unvoiced fear.

When he realized that the uncertainty in his daughter's tone was more for his feelings than from any discomfort on her part, it was all he could do to keep from grinning as he assured his daughter he would be nearby in case he needed her.

And then the gritty New Gotham police commissioner all but skipped out the door.

Although banished from the hospital room, Jim watched from outside. Once again, Alfred was silently standing beside him and the commissioner stubbornly refused to ask him how he knew when to show up for Barbara's therapy.

"They're going to wait to do strengthening exercises until after she has sat up," Alfred commented.

Jim sighed in relief. "Good," he said. "She needs that."

For a while, they watched in silence. For ten minutes, Jessie again checked for range of motion in just about every joint on each limb, patiently marking the results on her clipboard. She checked for any sensation below the area of injury, just to be certain.

No one was surprised when Barbara couldn't feel anything.

"Miss Jessie and the other doctors seem to think that Miss Barbara is strengthening rather more quickly than they expected," Alfred said tentatively.

Jim grinned and looked over at the butler. "That's my girl."

Alfred smiled in return, but the smile vanished as he looked back into the hospital room.

Jim frowned, watching the butler closely. What did Alfred know that he didn't?

Alfred opened his mouth to speak, and then paused to reconsider his words. He was quiet for several more moments, unintentionally making the commissioner uneasy, and finally said, "They seem to be of the opinion that getting Miss Barbara into a wheelchair is a high priority."

He had Jim's complete attention.

"After Miss Barbara has sat up on her own, Miss Jessie will prop her up to ensure that there is no additional pain when she sits for an extended period of time."

He paused again, and Jim wished wholeheartedly that Alfred would just come out with it, already.

"If there is no pain or lightheadedness, Miss Jessie will inform Miss Barbara that at the time of her next visit, they will practice wheelchair mobility. It will be rather limited due to the nature of being in a hospital-"

Alfred stopped when he saw Jim's hand go to his head as if to ward off a coming ache. "Is everything all right, sir?"

Jim took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Jessie's going to tell Barbara that they'll try the wheelchair next session?" he asked, in what the butler could only term as dismay.

"Why, yes," Alfred said, thoroughly confused. He had expected some kind of reaction, but this was hardly it. "Is there a problem?"

But the commissioner was already stalking off, patting down his own coat pockets to try to find his wallet.

"If I may be so bold, sir, where are you going?"

Jim didn't even pause as he growled, "Down to the gift shop to find a damn clock."