AN: Well here's the next chapter. I really apprieciate all of the reviews I've gotten. I hope you enjoy this story! It's set a while after new year's.

Barbara Gordon was sitting on the couch in her living room. The gathering dusk crept into the room until she could barely see, but she never stirred. She was staring blankly off into space, breathing in all of the scents of the different types of flowers scattered around her apartment.

They were all from people who didn't know her- or her father.

When she lost her mother a therapist had once told her that the trick for managing grief and moving on was setting small goals for oneself, to prove that the future was attainable or some such thing. Her goal right now was to keep her breathing steady. She would ensure that the air, stained as it was with the stench of sickly sweet flowers and musty water, would slide in and out of her lungs without getting caught in her throat. It was a good goal. Small and simple and within reach.

'You are doing well,' she thought to herself, 'very well'. The voice in her head had taken on a soothing tone, as if she were a sad child who might be comforted by a few gentle words and a goodnight kiss. Silent tears rolled down her face as she remembered what had... happened... earlier in the week. Her chest felt like a festering, empty hole that still burned at the edges from where the object of her grief had been ripped away, and her throat ached. No easy childlike balm could console her. Not today. The cavity in her heart was just too big to even think of easing.

There came a knock at the door, then another. It took her nearly a minute for her to process that there was an actual human out there that expected something of her, then another to summon the motivation to do anything about it.

The knock came again and she pulled herself up from the couch and walked slowly over to the door. Not even bothering to look through the peep hole- if it was a murderous psychopath on the other side, well, she was really in no mood to give a damn- she opened the door. On the other side was not an ax murderer but instead one of her best friends. She discovered that she felt no particular relief at this revelation.

She stared up at him blankly. He looked her over with concern. They stood there blinking at each other for a long moment before he stepped forward and pulled her into a hug.

It was as if a dam had broken. Her entire body went limp almost instantly. 'Screw goals', she thought, and allowed herself to indulge in the ugliest and most violent crying session she had ever experienced. Her eyes poured tears, her throat convulsed repeatedly, and her chest was wracked with sobs.

Slightly alarmed, he half-carried her out of the entryway and over to the couch. He sat down and arranged her as well as he could manage. Guessing that a hug would help calm her, he wrapped his arms around her tightly and waited. Her trembling hands curled into loose fists against his shirt.

Once the more violent sobbing was mostly spent, she continued to cry, but much more gently. He slowly lowered her until only her head rested in his lap and settled down to stroking her hair and making soothing sounds. She looked up into the green of his eyes for a moment and then turned her head to face out into the dark room.

"I mi-mi-miss hi-him Wa-a-lly," she choked on her words.

"Shhh... it's gonna be ok. I'll always be here for you," he murmured, still smoothing her hair. His words felt useless, but he had to say something, right?

"I just- don't get how he could be gone!" she tilted her head to look at him again. "He's the police commissioner. Sure, I knew it was dangerous but I-I never thought- that he could could actually d-" she couldn't finish, for she began to sob again. Wally pulled her back against his chest, close to his heart, wishing he were able to protect her from everything.

Suddenly there came another knock at the door. Wally and Babs both looked at each other quizzically.

"It's probably just another person who didn't know my dad bringing flowers," she said wearily and not without a hint of disapproval in her voice.

"I'll go get rid of them, ok?" he said, getting up and kissing the top of her head. He opened the door, expecting some pitying citizen that had heard of the commissioner's untimely death and believed that the obvious thing to do was bombard the bereaved daughter with flowers.

What he did not expect was to see Dick Grayson standing there with a wide grin on his face, his back-pack slung jauntily over his shoulder and a warm brown tan lying comfortably on his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose.

"Wally? What are you doing here, man?" Dick said, still smiling. "Haven't seen you lately! How've you been?"

For a moment Wally couldn't move. He just stood there and stared. A million thoughts were running through his head. 'Dick doesn't know? How could he not know? I thought he and Babs were best friends!' He scrambled helplessly for words.

Then the voice of Babs drifted in from the next room.

"Wally?" she asked, walking into the entry hall. Her voice was weak. "Who's at the door?"

She was wearing only a button-down shirt. It had been one of her father's. When she was small he had often let her wear his shirts so that she could pretend to be one of the Lost Boys. Now the faint scent of the cologne and aftershave from his room still clung to the fabric and she found it comforting. Dick stared at her messy hair and red eyes in complete bewilderment.

"What's wrong, Babs? And... why are you only in that shirt?" he asked with a chuckle. He looked back and forth between Wally and Babs, clearly planning a string of dirty jokes.

Wally's eyes widened. "You- you don't know, do you?" Babs asked, tears forming in her eyes again.

"Know what, Babs?" he asked, growing concerned. This must be more serious than he'd thought. "What's wrong?"

Wally noticed Babs setting her shoulder back as Dick spoke. She sauntered casually over to one of the many potted flowers in her apartment.

"Well, it makes sense I guess. I mean, you've been waaay too busy lately," she said slowly, stroking one of the delicate petals on the flower. "With your team, you know. You always have to train and go on missions. It's got to be really tough on you. And then there's that new girlfriend of yours. Zantana, is it? Odd name, Zantana... pretty though. Yep, you sure have been far too busy to worry about little old me."

She smiled, her face nuzzling the flowers, breathing deeply.

"Babs...?" Dick asked, confused.

All of a sudden the entire pot of flowers came flying past his head, shattering on the doorframe just to his left.

"Holy- What the hell, Babs?" he gasped, glaring at her. She had turned her back to him after launching the flowers.

"Read the card," she said simply.

"I... What?" he asked. He was getting more than a little frustrated in addition to his complete bewilderment.

"Read the damn card, Grayson. On the flowers," she sneered. Her hands were in tense fists at her sides. He turned and looked at the dirt and shattered porcelain and saw the corner of a white piece of paper poking out. He looked at her, then Wally, before shrugging and picking it up to read. The handwriting was neat and the paper looked expensive.

"I am truly sorry for your loss. Your father was an honorable commissioner and will be missed dearly. Your family will remain in our prayers.

-The Bryce Family at Bryce Hall, 19 Hubberston Street"

Dick read the words through twice before properly processing them. Sorry for your loss... Her father was dead! His eyes snapped back to Babs, who still stubbornly faced away from him. WIth all the time he spent training he had little time for watching the news, but how could he possibly have missed an event like that? No wonder she was upset with him.

"Babs-" he tried.

"Get out," she said. Her voice cracked but her tone was harsh.

"No, listen, Babs. I-" Dick tried again, but he was cut off by Wally.

"You need to leave, Dick. Now." He firmly pushed the younger boy out the door and caught a glimpse of the face that showed only undiluted regret just before shutting it. He sighed. The entire situation was a horrible mess, and he could see no real way to fix any of it.

He shook his head and approached Babs. She had bent her head to let tears flow again, and there were two drops on the carpet already.

One thing he had always admired about Babs was how completely emotionally honest with herself she was. She never cringed away from her feelings or felt embarrassed to be hurting, but instead let herself laugh and cry and throw things in rage as needed to address her emotions. He could never do that.

He took her shoulders and gently turned her around, then wrapped his arms around her and held her close. When he hugged her while she was sad he found that she always felt smaller than usual.

Suddenly she pulled away and walked into the kitchen. He followed her, puzzled, and watched as she opened the utensils' drawer and pulled out a large steak knife. She trailed one finger upwards along the dull edge of the blade, then paused at the tip.

"...Babs?"

She ignored him. A vague fear took him and he was debating taking the knife away when she abruptly yanked the blade off of the handle. She tossed the blade into the drawer and turned the handle over in her hand. A small brass key fell out of it. She walked over to a particular cabinet and unlocked it with the key. Inside were various bottles of hard liquor and a number of different types of glasses. She pulled out two shot glasses and a bottle of kahlua. Wally raised his eyebrows.

She set the glasses down on the table, then filled each to the brim with the kahlua. She stared at them for a while, smiling just a bit. Wally walked over to her and hugged her for a moment. He was worried. He then backed up two steps and held her out critically at arm's length.

"Look Babs, I know you're upset about everything but... drowning it in alcohol won't help anything. Come on now," he said, a little desperate, searching her face for that all-too-familiar sign of giving up that he didn't ever want to have to see in another person again.

"Please," she begged. "Please, I... I just want to forget. Just let me try to forget. Please."

Wally sighed and sat down in his usual chair, across from hers. What was the point of trying to argue with her now? She was always stubborn, and he knew that she would get her way with or without his approval. He also knew that trying to apply any rigid moral code to the depths of human suffering was just plain stupid.

They looked each other square in the eye before downing their first of many shots.

Well that's it. I hope you liked this chapter! Please review!