She called her bottle of whiskey her liquid courage. In the last few months, she has convinced herself that she took the bottle in order to convey her feelings. Be as it were in galas, events, and masquerade balls, Barbara Gordon was going to have something in her hand. She has told herself in the mirror when she consumed, her limit were to be two. It must have been a multi-sided mirror for the amounts of alcohol she had consumed before prancing into a dance or stumbled drunkenly into an arms of a complete stranger.

She was fortunate of consuming her distilled spirits out of uniform. Of course, the results included heated sex, cigarettes, drugs, and the like. There may be a chance of breakfast at the nearby diner or at the hotel restaurant. The men, occasionally women, leave their numbers in hopes of a return. She left the slips along with the check. All in the same result, leave it under the Commissioner's account.

Tonight, she stood alone. Watching over the darkness of Gotham. With one-third of the bottle gone, should she be in the condition of watching over the downtrodden? Especially when, in a way, she needs saving of her own. She pour more into her throat, slurring along the way as she wiped her whiskey moustache on her uniform sleeve. The wind is light, the humidity is low. She doesn't even know why she was out here tonight. Batman didn't appoint her to survey anything. She hasn't answered any of her colleagues' calls. She has been in-and-out of a bender that it was concerning the commissioner.

The moment she saw a piece of a pamphlet suggesting rehab, immediately she stormed from the home. The destination, unknown. And that was a few days ago. Between that time, she bounced from beds to couches; allowing anyone with a pulse to come inside her dominion in return to rest in their dominion and give her rest. Per usual, they leave her a number, any glimpse of hope to return the delicacy of Barbara Gordon. They stare at the redheaded beauty, only if they knew in return she was staring at a wall or something beyond them. For at this point, she was beyond saving.

After wandering tirelessly over the past hours, she made it to the roof. It was one of her many hideouts when she kept her stashed clothes in case of emergencies. Becoming a bit tipsy, she made her way to the floor, where she can balance herself.

Do you want to end up like your father?

She nervously grin when thinking what her adoptive father told her when walking in on one of her previous trips to the restroom. She couldn't remember how much she consumed the night before. She explained that she went out partying and just lost track of herself. If crashing the car into a few parked cars, leaving toilet covered in white powder, and vomiting in the fish tank was losing track of herself, the commissioner couldn't imagine when she gain control of her habit. Worried for her safety, also more for his reputation, he enlisted the help of Bruce Wayne. Despite their complicated relationship, untrifly the commissioner phoned Alford to take her where she knew would be safe.

Even staying in that solace didn't last long. Robin caught her in the bathroom. Blurred lines, along with alcohol and cocaine, caused her to lose control, attacking the Boy Wonder. She stormed from the bathroom and disappeared into the night.

She took another sip of her liquid courage, staring into the night sky. She knew rain was going to be in the forecast. She didn't care. She didn't care about anything. She wanted to be alone. Anyone sharing the last name of Gordon; or anyone affiliated with the name, Gordon. Even so, the member of the extended Wayne clan weren't invited. This was something she wanted to deal with. She made a decree in her bendering that anyone further themselves in this, they will be punished.

For she knew that the Boy Wonder wouldn't take any time to look for her. She knew that at some point he would show up.

Another bottle empty. She stared to the bottle for it too now related to her current disposition-empty. She threw the bottle to the side. She staggered for a bit before retaining her composure. She took to the floor where she lied down. It wasn't long until she heard another pair of footprints coming in her way.

A shadow lurked over the redhead. She swallowed nothing beside her guilt, embarrassment, and shame. She tucked her lips, taking sharp breaths. She released a nervous laughter, knowing the inevitable was to come, but didn't expect it so soon.

"Well, is it the Boy Wonder himself," the Batgirl said to Robin.

Robin wasn't wearing his uniform. Opting for a grey jogging suit with white tennis shoes, wrapped in his arms was another jacket. His face displayed sternness, but at the same time faced sympathy. He sighed, taking a knee to where Barbara resided. He sat on his butt and crossed his legs.

There was a pregnant silence for the time being.

"So, you aren't going to say what the hell I am doing," questioned Barbara.

He shook his head in disagreement. "Nope! When you aren't representing the suit, then you are pleased to do what you want."

"You don't care that I am drunk, drinking right in front of you, Boy Wonder," she said in between hiccups. She nervously laughed, knowing it was the alcohol taking its effect.

He turned to her. "I care. You sincerely know I care." He paused for a moment, looking for something more to say. "I just had enough trying to chase you when you are like this. I am here so you won't hurt yourself."

She scoffed at him. "I don't need your help. I am fine without you. I don't need anyone. So you can juck fuck off, Dick!"

"Listen, I am here under the orders of Bruce," he retorted. He kept his knees close to his chest. "I am just here to watch over you. Making sure that you won't do anything crazy."

"Taking orders from the batbrain. You have always kept close. Makes me wonder that you have done things in your nightly duties with the bat," she said.

He clicked his tongue. "Think what you want to think, Barbara. I am not going to entertain you when you are like this." He grabbed the jacket and tossed it to Batgirl. "Don't need for you to catch a cold. So, when you are doing with your bitching hour, put it on." He stood up. "When you are ready to get out of this pity party, I will be downstairs at the lobby. A limo is waiting for us." He stood up and dusted himself off. He made his way back to the stairs to the exit. Not once did he look back.

When he closed the door, the empty bottle she finished scattered across the door. "Fuck you, Boy Wonder. Fuck you!" She screamed a few times, yelling into the salty night air. She panted heavily, feeling her heavy tongue and her heavy body. With the jacket Dick gave her, she put it on gently. She staggered as she stood, but make the tracks toward the door.

She took the elevator to the ground floor where the lobby was located. She felt sluggish, feeling sensitive from the lights. At any moment, she knew she would collapses. Like Dick said, he was sitting at the foot of the lobby. His arms were crossed, reading a magazine. From her position, DIck displayed strong sex appeal. The kind of charm that captivated anyone who have sought interest. Tugging on to his jacket, she made her way to him.

"Is your bitching hour completed," asked the Boy Wonder without looking at Batgirl. He flipped the newspaper to a new article. "If so, then let's get out of here. Rain is in the forecast and I definitely do not need you to catch a cold." He pulled the umbrella from the chair. He poked it at Barbara's knee. "The limo is waiting. Let's head back."

She was taken aback. "Back? Back where? Back home? Hell, no. I am not going back there."

"Relax, Red," interjected the Boy Wonder, while keeping his same composure since coming across Barbara. He had gotten accustomed to her drunkenness that it became routine like chasing bad guys, attending galas and masquerades, and the countless relationships with women. His face remained flat. He put his hand on Barbara's flushed swollen cheek. "I am not taking you back there." He then added something under his breath. "Not now, at least."

"Then, where are we going," she asked. "I am sure as hell don't want to go to the bat cave."

He shook his head. "You don't have to do any of that. When I mentioned "Let's head back," I am making you choose on where you want to go."

"Then let's head back to your place," said Barbara. "I am in a need of a shower and a bed."

"Ok, then, you can come with me to my place," said Dick as he held the door for her to leave the building.

She blushed, looking at him. "A shower and a bed. No funny business!"

"Perish the thought, Red," interjected DIck. "I am here to sober you up and to make you feel better." He opened the door for the limo. "Plus, I have already have an engagement waiting for me." He winked to her.

"Is she already there?"

"She is. I told her that my sister was coming to spend the night."

"Ok, then."

Dick closed the door behind him. He instructed the driver to take him to his residence. Across the seat, he saw Batgirl lying down. He knew that she was in the position of her next hurl. So, he reached for a bucket under the bar cabinet to put beside her. He had a cold towel ready to put on her forehead. He sighed as he knew it wasn't the first time taking care of her. As always, he would be there.

However, how much longer would it continue. At some point, there is a breaking point.