Note: A big "Thank you!" to all the reviewers who've kept me this far. Your comments are greatly appreciated.

Reluctant Dragon: I'll estimate it to be around 2160 at the time this story takes place. (I hope I did my math right, though)

A/N: I'm following the animated series' continuity here, so Barbara Gordon never got shot and paralyzed by the Joker. Also, very slight references to Batman: Mystery of the Batwoman.

Full Circle
Chapter Five:

If there had ever been a point to returning yet and yet again to the same place when all explorations of it had been done, John hadn't found any yet. Thankfully, Wayne Manor was so huge that he hadn't completed his explorations, and so didn't find it bothersome returning.

Shea was already there in the cave when he reached. He'd wanted to get Alvia along, but her classes ended later, and judging by the enthusiastic tone with which Shea had spoken, he'd gotten intrigued and decided to come first.

She heard his footsteps echo through the huge cavern and turned, blinking her eyes tiredly and squinting a little.

"Hey, what's it?"

"There." She pointed towards her right, and John noticed that more lights had been turned on. "See those glass cases? Those." She didn't offer to show him what had interested her so much, and with a hint of annoyance, he strode towards the cases she pointed to.

He had approached them from the front, and almost stopped when he was halfway there, having seen what those cases contained. "Whoa. What are those?"

"Costumes. What did you think they were?"

"I know they're costumes. But what—forget it." John searched for a latch and opened the case, reaching out to trail his fingers over the first costume, the one emblazoned with a black bat. "Hm, funny material."

"Yeah. Funnier computer, though," Shea commented, half in thought. "And funny information."

"What?"

She gestured him over, and he saw what seemed to be a criminal profile spread out across the screen. The sole picture there showed a guy with a deathly pale face—white, he would say—shockingly green hair, a too-wide red grin, dressed in a purple suit. All the colors contrasted so greatly in so small an area that John felt his eyes go blind.

"Who's that?"

"According to what's here…" Shea's voice trailed off as she scanned the information. "He's more commonly known as 'The Joker.' Mm, once known as Jack Napier."

"What happened to him?" He shuddered at the wild eyes that stared back at him, full of insane malice even though it was a mere picture. The eyes are the windows to the soul, he remembered reading from somewhere. And if so, this picture must have captured what soul the Joker had left and retained it for itself: John felt cold just looking at it.

The girl stood up and offered the console seat. "Here, you go read it yourself. I'll grab something to eat. I'm starving. Did you bring anything to eat?"

John tore his eyes away from the screen, forcing his still somewhat-shuddering mind to focus on something…normal. "Um, no. Why?"

"Just getting sick of chips."

"I can drive you to town to get something," he offered.

"Nah, I want to work on the thing some more." She stuffed chips into her mouth, thankfully remembering not to talk with her mouth full. "Only got through two of the defenses since this morning. Someone good placed them there." More chips fell to the cave floor. "I'll go look at the costumes again. Wonder how they feel like."

John raised his brows. "You haven't touched them?"

"Nah. Didn't dare to, actually," she admitted, ignoring his disbelieving look and walking over to the cases again. The awe she felt since she last gazed at the costumes returned: they might look strange, but they certainly were impressive. She had to wonder once again who would wear such clothing, and for what purpose.

She heard John settling himself in to do more reading, and she decided to give her eyes a break from the screen. She finally dared to open the latch of the first case, trailing her fingers over the material as John had done. It felt…strong.

She let her fingers wander downwards, till they came to the belt, a soft gold in the dim light. It was a sleek thing with many compartments, its curves soft and graceful, yet almost-dangerous looking. She wondered what the compartments held: they looked interesting.

Would be easier to take the belt off first, she decided, and reached for where she thought the clasp would be, poking around a little but not finding anything she could release the belt with. She used both hands (one of them a slight bit oily from the chips) to grasp either sides of the emblem in the middle of the belt, gripping the pack of chips with her teeth.

The minute she tried to pry the belt open, she felt something rush so fast through her her body went stiff, and her last thought just froze right in her mind.

John heard a soft strangled cry, and he whirled around so sharply he almost threw himself off the chair. "Shea?" He saw her on the ground, her body twitching slightly, her lips parted.

He cursed and went to her quickly, grasping her arm before he knew what he was doing: his actions seemed two steps faster than his mind. Was she breathing? He watched her chest. It rose and fell very slightly, almost imperceptible.

Shit. Hospital. Hospital! He took out his cell phone, but could get no reception this deep beneath the ground.

In a frantic move, he lifted Shea and staggered-ran up the stairs, out of the Manor and towards his car. He had to get her to Gotham General Hospital soon: he didn't know how to handle this situation.

"Are you sure it's a good idea doing this, Bruce?" Barbara Gordon watched him take Nightwing's suit and walk towards the last empty case there was. "Putting the Robin suit there gives enough memories, doesn't it?"

He gave a look totally devoid of emotion, one which all of them had learnt to take as a command to be silent.

Her own Batgirl suit had already occupied the third case for a few months already. The fourth had been empty until this evening. Bruce—no, Batman—had sent Batgirl to Nightwing to ask for a suit.

Dick's reaction to that had been expected. He had told Batgirl to "forget it. Tell him to come himself if he wants."

It'd taken weeks before Batman did that. All of them thought that he'd put it out of his mind, but then, they knew better. He went to Dick's apartment, and apparently, they had a long chat (neither of them would reveal its contents) and Dick gave one suit to his mentor.

If she hadn't known them for such a long time, and been allowed into the Bat's trust, she would've labeled their family 'dysfunctional.' Even so, she wondered if they were still dysfunctional: facts were after all, facts. Right?

"So, we have Dick's suit," she said. "What now?"

A steely glare came from him this time, as if it should be obvious. "Get to work."

Barbara had to wonder if he even thought of her as a lover, even though they were technically…together. But she didn't argue, and just nodded. "Yessir."