An unfamiliar number flashed bright on her phone screen. Babs groaned, not even bothering to cover her annoyance up. "Who is this?" she said sharply into the receiver, impatiently tapping her pinky on the phone.

"Whoa, hello Miss Congeniality," the voice said sardonically.

Babs rolled her eyes in impatience. "Tell me who you are or I'll hang up."

The anonymous somebody on the other end of the line chuckled. "It's Dick, from school. I was just wondering if you wanted to meet up at the library or something. You know, to work on our project or…something."

She let out a sigh. "Oh. It's only you. Um, sure why don't we talk later though. I'm kind of waiting for something," Babs said with as much tolerance as she was capable of mustering up.

"Sure. I'll text you later or something," Dick said. Babs could barely hear his "bye" due to the fact that she'd hung up so abruptly. The ire she had been bottling up during her ephemeral conversation with Dick burst out. She clutched her hair in distress and raced to her room. Collapsing facedown on the bed, Babs reached up a cool hand to her forehead to assuage the massive migraine that was definite to come. She glared at the note that her father had left her on the kitchen counter. I'll be home before you fall asleep, promise – love, Dad.

Babs could tell by the messy pen strokes and crumpled paper that it had been written in haste. Rolling her eyes, she tore the paper into shreds and discarded the pieces into the garbage can without so much as a second thought. James Gordon was a busy man—Babs knew that. But his job as the esteemed head of police caused him to stray away from home. For the past five months, he rarely was home. And when he was, it was usually for five hours of sleep, a run-in with Babs and then off to work. He'd come home just to continue the cycle once more.

Even though the note should've purported something to look forward to, Babs found it hard to believe that after months of being gut-wrenchingly neglected, she would be able to see and maybe even speak to her dad for over fifteen minutes. The mundane history homework and pencil lay uselessly on her bed. "I'll be home before you fall asleep," Babs muttered sourly. That could mean he'd maybe catch a glimpse of Babs for maybe one minute before her eyes closed shut and he left for the night. She shook her head and remained sitting stoically on her bed, legs stretched out and hair unkempt.

The sound of tires hitting gravel was faint, but sure. Babs's face scrunched up in utter confusion and she raced to the window, pressing her eyes to the glass. "That can't be Dad…" But the slim, tall figure exiting the car told otherwise. It was James Gordon with a trace of a smile on his face. Babs faced a gamut of emotions in less than ten seconds. At first she was skeptical. It was too good to be true. Her father? Home before eleven? Doubtful.

Then she was elated. It was her father, coming home to rest and speak with his daughter—something he hadn't done in a long time.

But then she appeared livid. After all this time, five months, he just paraded into her room, out of the blue.

Over all, Babs was just plain confused. Of all times, why did he choose now to return home?

She sighed, a plethora of emotions ensconced by that one exhale. Babs felt her legs involuntarily move towards the door to greet her father. He smiled on the other side of the glass and Babs had to fight to suppress the reluctant grin she was working up. She slowly opened the door and for a second just stood there, unsure of what to do. "Um, hi Dad," she greeted.

"Babs," he smiled. Her father grabbed her and hugged her. Babs hugged back; letting go of any inkling of resent she had ever felt for his constant absence. They walked into the house and James quickly deposited his work items on the couch. "I'm starving. Did you eat dinner yet?"

Babs shook her head, signaling a no. "Do you want to get a pizza or something?"

"Yeah, that'd be great," he nodded, reaching for the phone. As he ordered a large cheese pizza for the two of them, Babs silently screamed. Her father was finally home. He was finally spending time with her, and they were finally together. All the begrudging intentions she had prior to actually seeing him dissipated and Babs wanted nothing more than to have a normal conversation with her dad again. "So, how's school?"

"Uh, you know. It's school. Boring." She made a face.

"What about the people? Are you fitting in well at Gotham?" he asked.

"Yeah I guess," Babs shrugged.

"Tell me about your friends."

"Well, there's this girl named Cassie. I met her the first day and she's really—"

"Nice?"

"No, weird. She's so weird and crazy and I swear she's never tired. She has a weird penchant for vocabulary words. Like, she uses words like 'rubbernecking', 'ailurophile', 'cynosure', 'ebullience', and 'imbroglio' all the time and half the time, I have no clue what she's trying to say," Babs chuckled.

"Well, what do those words mean?"

"Rubbernecking means to stare at, ailurophile means a cat lover, cynosure means the center of attention, ebullience means brightness, and imbroglio means a complication," Babs informed.

"Hmm. Smart girl," James commented.

"And there's another girl, Zatanna. Mrs. Dennel, the math teacher, assigned me to be her tutor because she was apparently failing math. So I went over to her house—which is huge and gorgeous by the way!—and she randomly turned on the radio and we began dancing and we're friends," Babs said, deliberately leaving out the events that had happened afterwards.

"Forgive me for asking this," he said, chuckling slightly, "are there any boys there?"

"Dad!" Babs blushed profusely.

James raised his eyebrows in mild amusement. "Is this a yes?"

"No! Well, yeah, but—oh, I don't know." Babs sighed, burying her face in her hands. She peeked at her father's expecting yet warm expression and felt compelled to spill everything about Dick. "There's this guy. His name is Dick Grayson, and I completely embarrassed myself, heh. But then, the other day in History class, Cassie basically forced me to be his partner. So, we are partners now. And I'm still too scared to actually look at his face because I will forever be branded by the humiliation I was subject to!" She flourished her speech off with a dramatic sigh.

He chortled lightly. "As long as he doesn't have any tattoos, he's fine."

Babs smiled. "He doesn't—or at least not that I know of…" The doorbell rang, the sound ricocheting off the walls that didn't seem so empty anymore. Her smile grew larger by the second and she rested her chin on her hands, tapping the table nonchalantly. She'd really missed her father and now he was back. Voices echoed in the hallway. One was recognizable as James's and the other was unidentifiable. It sounded strangely demanding, though—quite unlike your average pizza delivery guy.

A harried father rushed back into the kitchen, a look of distress evident on his face.

"Dad? What's going on? Who was that?" Babs asked, although she had a good idea who.

"Babs, I'm so sorry. There's a huge case at work—they really need me there. I'm gutted about this, honestly. I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you, I promise!" he said while gathering his things from the living room. James planted a quick kiss on Babs's cheek before bounding out.

"Yeah. I'm sorry too," Babs whispered. Misery welled up in the form of tears. The door slammed shut, the sound resonated in her ears. Suddenly her whole body felt leaden as she trudged to her room. It was too good to be true. It always was.

Beyoncé played rambunctiously. Dick groaned, clawing at his phone. Wally had probably reset his ringtone and called him just so he would notice.

"Argh, Wally I swear—" He was cut short by something that sounded like…crying?

"Dick…" He froze. It was Babs.