Please listen to the song "Tattoo" by Jordin Sparks while reading this.

Story: Guardian Angel (Part 2)

Character: Max

The same song's been at the top of my playlist for weeks now. I've started to grow tired of it, but today it assumes a whole new meaning. Today I'll do what's been in my mind to do for years...ever since my heart accepted that he was gone. I don't care that they've done it on purpose, tearing him me. I don't care, because their only victory would come in defeating my love for him. But not today.

My lips distantly mouth the lyrics, daring to sing them out loud, even, when I leave the listening walls of the mansion. Their eyes are ever on me. But today, I'm leaving the country. A vacation, as my father reluctantly put it. He's sending me off to the country of my choice. I want to feel grateful toward him, but the wound he's given me is still open, unhealed. He said it was to protect me, my kidnapping. I wish I can believe him, but I trust no one anymore.

I play the song again during my flight. I was angry at myself for accepting it, Terry's death. But that was a long time ago. Now, I'm determined to fight for him, even though he's gone. He would want me to live, to be happy.

But I'm not sure. The lyrics confuse me. Am I really leaving Terry behind by continuing to live? Is this being fair to him? My finger twirls away at my long, brown hair. Brown. Terry would get a kick out of that. It was he, after all, who encouraged the pink look. I sigh sadly, remembering his dancing eyes.

I frown out the window into the sea of clouds, softly repeating the uncertain lyric, "Sorry, but I have to move on and leave you behind."

I love every part of the song but that one. I don't want to think of living a normal life as denying my true love. But he would want me to keep going, wouldn't he? Am I failing him miserably by doubting my desires? I don't know much about what I want, I realize. My mind is often at odds with me. Swallowing back bitter tears, I curse their serums and subliminal methods to try to get me to forget him. My mind is stunted by their control, and all I'm really sure of is that I want to stay in love with him. My greatest fear is forgetting Terry.

I gave it all, as Batgirl. I pushed myself to new limits. With Terry's help, I became what was lying asleep inside of me. I smile while alighting the private jet. He was always my biggest fan, and my greatest hero. But I never got to tell him…

India. I'm here only for the tattoo artists; the ignorance of anything Gotham-related. Back at headquarters, they're only slightly tracking me (what trouble could I find in a foreign country?). I smile while picturing Axis at his computer, protectively watching my signal on the radar. Even while feeling the dance of butterflies in my stomach for him, I still often confuse his face with Terry's.

In the tiny, slightly putrid tattoo parlor, the artists rattle to each other in Hindi. At the HQ, I learned only enough of the language to get by for the short trip. Pausing my song, I show the design I've doodled to the wrinkled old artist. She examines it briefly, eyes showing no recognition whatsoever. Just as planned. I smirk to myself.

I secure my earphones, blocking out the noise in the parlor. I've quickly determined to play the song again as the needle traces beneath my skin. My pain tolerance may be high, but the sting is intense between my shoulders, just beneath my neck and in the center of my back. I close my eyes, letting my cheek rest atop my folded arms as the artist draws. I allow my thoughts to float wherever they wish, and this happens to be on Axis. I see his aurora-eyes, not dissimilar to Terry's ocean ones. I still don't know why I think they're eyes are so similar. I don't even know why he reminds me so much of Terry, in many ways. But Axis is so perfect, and I often feel I'm not ready for his love. But I don't want to play with his heart while I'm deciding. I wince as the needle sinks a little too deep.

I open my eyes, and Axis' face disappears. It's like a tug-of war of love, my love. An invisible fight for my heart. A battle for my choice.

The line plays again when I go return to my hotel room. I try to ignore it this time, like I'm trying to ignore the ache in my back. I want it to hurt, though. I want the tattoo not just as a reminder, or a silent act of rebellion toward my father. No, I want it as a scar. Just like my heart, even when it heals, I'll forever be reminded of the pain. I want Terry's love to consume me like an ache of which I can never be rid. This way, even their serums can't pull me away from him.

I laugh dryly at myself when I study my back in the bathroom mirror, the painful redness around the mark. It's not like I haven't already hurt enough over him.

Back at the HQ, I hide my tattoo well, whether I'm wearing an evening gown for an event or a tank for training. I use makeup, but every time I apply it, I secretly smile. I don't really care if they find out I've got it on my back. I debate telling Axis about it, though. I'm somewhat open to him about my feelings for Terry. I think he's come to learn that this is simply a part of me that must be accepted. He knows that he'll never fully capture my heart, because part of it will always be in the possession of my first love. I don't care that my heart is torn, just as long as part of me remains with Terry.

Years have passed now, and the redness is gone. The tattoo is painless, and so is my heart. The agency was exposed, their masquerade ended. Terry was alive, and he constantly reminds me of how he never gave up on me.

I lay on my stomach, lazily out-stretched on the swing. I'm on the back porch of Wayne Manor, our manor. We're married now, determined to live and die together. My ears perk up. Terry has just come home from work, I hear him moving through the house. I watch the fading sunset, but I sense him standing still at the door, watching me. I don't move or speak. I'm just glad to have him home.

He smiles and walks over, lightly swinging himself to lounge behind me. Propping himself on one arm, he stares down at me. Neither of us speak, for silence has become a bit of a treasure. I feel his touch on my back, so slight that I shiver. I smile. Just like when he first saw the mark, he continues to have this crazy idea that it must still hurt.

Terry smiles a little, his finger tracing the form of the bat emblem on my back, the black tips of the wings and ears. I feel the warmth of his lips on my skin.

I'm no longer troubled by the lyrics to the song. I always knew who I wanted to win the battle for my heart, and I'm glad that he did.