It's all anyone talked about. Bruce Wayne had returned to Gotham. I remember Dad tossing the newspaper onto my lap during breakfast. He held his coffee mug in one hand and shrugged.

"Some happy news for once, eh, Babs?"

"Some happy news would be you letting me go out later than 8 PM, Dad," I replied, placing the paper onto the table.

He chuckled, sipped his coffee, and shook his head. "Not until you're 21, honey."

"I'm 23. That joke's gotten old and it's overdue."

Without another word, he kissed my cheek and left the house. I heard his jingling keys from inside and sighed. After doing the dishes, I went to my room and opened my laptop. More Bruce Wayne news everywhere.

Didn't dislike the guy, though. I grabbed my coat and keys to drive to the coffee shop I enjoyed by the court. The large white building filled with lawyers and businessmen sat right across the coffee shop. Thankfully any lawyer getting coffee didn't stay to sit. Otherwise, the place would be overwhelmingly full,, and I'd never enjoy it as much. Scrolling through my phone, I stood in line.

I don't like coffee, by the way. I go for the atmosphere.

The cashier smiled. "Next?"

Brushing my bangs aside, I said, "Yeah, one mint iced tea, please?"

I paid and took a seat. Looking around, I admired all the indoor plants they had. Our messy house didn't have room for plants or any kind of decor, really. Dad stacked folders and paperwork everywhere, so decorating was kind of pointless.

"Barbara?"

I turned to see a somewhat familiar face. His blue eyes stared at me with familiarity, which was embarrassing for me because I didn't fully recognize him. He wore a suit, and had a pale face. Chuckling, he put on some glasses and I recognized him right away.

"Hey!"

He shook my hand, and said, "I knew that would help."

"Sorry, I feel so stupid. But it's great to see you again. Looks like you ditched psychology to be a lawyer," I teased, motioning at his suit.

Jonathan Crane was an old college mate. He was graduating the year I started, but our interest in the same field brought us close.

"At least I didn't ditch psychology to be a cop," he replied.

Sighing, I sat back down and invited him to join me. "The cop thing didn't happen, so I went a different direction."

"What? Forensic science?"

Shaking my head, I replied, "Computer science, actually."

Glancing at his watch, he said, "Sorry, but I'm running late. It was a pleasure to see you. Are you staying?"

"Yeah, but it was good to see you. Take care, alright?"

He smiled and reached into his pocket to pull out a business card. "I usually hand these out for psychiatric evaluation, but I don't think you're too far from needing one."

"I'll probably live with my dad until I'm 30, so I'll definitely need one," I joked as I held the card between my middle and index finger.

Jonathan paused. "You still live with your parents?"

"Mom's in and out with my brother sometimes, but lately they've been getting along. So technically, yes, I live with my parents."

Chuckling, he said, "That's sweet."

I scoffed and asked, "Aren't you late for something?"

"Ah, yes, my job. So good to have one. Call me, alright?"

As he rushed off, I shook my head, "I have a job!"

I placed his business card flat on the table, and watched him blend in with the crowd. Reaching for my phone, I typed up his number as a new contact. I recalled how scrawny and quiet he was in college. Mostly kept to himself, but was practically a master and addict for his major. It felt good to see how far he had come.

How far had I come since then? Sighing, I realized I hadn't gone far. I skimmed through my contacts and stopped.

Dad.

"A job..." I mumbled to myself.

I knew Dad wouldn't have office time until late that evening, but it was worth a shot. The rest of my day consisted of more tea, the gym, and running errands. As the sun went down, Gotham did its best to give a decent sunset, but the smog and horrendous city smell didn't help. The second I got home, I took a shower and dosed myself with hot water. When I finished, I wrapped my hair in a towel and slipped into my bathrobe. The front door clicked open, making me perk my head up.

It had to be Dad. I walked over in bare feet, and stopped when I saw Mom rushing inside.

"Babs...I'm...I'm not staying. Mail," she said as she looked through a stack of letters on the counter.

"Of course not," I mumbled as I grabbed a water bottle from the fridge.

She made a face as she shuffled through our mail. "Funny. Where's your dad?"

I shrugged. "Work."

"You can hate me all you want, but at least give me a straight answer," Mom groaned as she tossed the mail back in its place.

Gulping down water, I replied, "I don't know where he is. If you need to talk to him, don't involve me. I've taken enough of your guys' crap."

"Jimmy Jr. never gives me this much trouble," Mom sighed as she threw up her hands in defeat.

I scoffed and let my hair loose from the towel. "He's 9. He doesn't know Canada from Mexico."

Rapid footsteps made us both turn, along with someone calling out "Barbara". We looked over in unison as Dad ran to the front door and stopped when he saw us both.

"I meant your mother," Dad panted as he looked at me.

"Great. Bye," I said as I headed to my room.

Mom shook her head and looked at Dad. "Look at your influence, Jim. My daughter hates me because of you."

Dad groaned as he ran a hand through his hair. "Babs, what did you do?"

"I was born, apparently," I replied as I turned back to face them.

Mom disapprovingly shook her head as she ignored me. She walked towards the front door and asked Dad where he had been.

"I, uh got caught up-"

"Work, I know. Jesus, that's always what's mattered to you, Jim," Mom cut in.

"Someone broke into my office and pointed a gun at me, Barbara! Christ, you want me to apologize for that too!" Dad exclaimed.

My stomach twisted with worry at that. "What?"

He shut his eyes with regret and said, "Oh, honey, go to your room. Please?"

"You have a son in the car, Jim. How am I supposed to explain to him that you had a gun pointed at you? Explain that much to me," Mom whined, as usual.

Dad rubbed his eyes with his hand as he turned his attention back to her. "Barbara, not now, please. Why did you even come? What do you want? Money?"

"Why do you say it like that? You have your son in the car-"

"Hey, Dad! Your daughter is going to her room. So, if you need her, just knock!" I yelled over them.

They both looked over at me in silence as I left the living room. I shut my door as they continued arguing. Quickly, I turned on my hair dryer to drown out their voices. After a few minutes, I heard a small knock. I was in bed, typing away on my laptop, pretending to be busy. Dad stepped in and sat on the edge of the bed.

He side-smiled and gave a small sigh. "I love you, honey."

I didn't reply. He gently took my laptop from my lap and closed it. Lowering his eyes, he spoke softly. "I'm sorry you, uh, had to hear all that. It's not fair to you or Junior. Your mother just worries about him because he's much younger."

Fighting back the stinging tears that wanted to come out, I replied, "I was young too, Dad. I saw everything she did."

He shushed my gently as he pulled me in for a hug. I couldn't hold it in anymore and started crying. I felt him rest his chin on my head and rock us back and forth. He pulled away after a while, and suggested we get to bed.

"I have a favor, by the way. I'll be working late these next few nights, so you'll probably be on your own."

"What's the favor?" I asked, wiping my eyes.

He gave me a warning look and said, "You want be wandering around at night. No boys, no coffee breaks, and no driving outside past 7 o'clock, got it?"

Smiling, I replied, "Whatever you say, Dad."

"Ah, ah, don't give me that. Don't tell me you haven't thought about that Crane kid."

My eyebrows went up as my jaw dropped. "What?"

He stood up from my bed and took out Jonathon's card from his pocket. He tossed it on the bed and put his hands on his hips. Full Dad mode. I took the card and couldn't help but laugh. "I saw him earlier. He was always sweet. Will you relax?"

"Relax? He's after you again," he said pointing a finger at me.

"It's not like that, Dad, my God!"

He raised an eyebrow and didn't seem convinced. "Never?"

"It was, but when we were in college. That was years ago, and I never saw him like that. You ought to know that."

Chuckling, he was kidding. "Alright, but he's got good taste. You're smart and beautiful."

I couldn't help but smile. "Dad.."

"Alright, enough sweet talk from me. Get to bed already, it's late."

I gave him a soldier's salute, jokingly, and he left the room. Stretching my arms, I reached for my nightstand to grab my laptop, and plopped it on my lap. The bustling noise could be heard as my open window welcomed it in. Cars honking and police sirens going off made me hop out of bed to close it. I stared down at the busy street and remembered Dad mentioning the gun at his head. My tired eyes told me to forget about it as I climbed into bed, forgetting to turn my laptop off.