It was three days before she could get up and move without restriction, and at 3am she was silently moving around in her room, ready. If she made any sudden movements or did anything too strenuous, she'd feel her stitches pull- but otherwise, she was alive and restless. She needed to go.

She'd run away once before- back when she was five and upset because her birthday had been forgotten, she;d missed her parents and hadn't seemed to fit in this family. Young and naive on the streets- she'd been captured by the Joker due to dumb luck and nearly killed. Funny, how, civilian or hero, the Joker was always her common denominator.

She wouldn't make the same mistakes. This time, she wouldn't make any mistakes at all.

She'd emptied out her school books from her backpack, instead filling it with clothes. Nothing especially nice, nothing that would mark her as 'wealthy' and make her a target for thieves- mostly jeans and t-shirts, as well as a hoodie for warmth.

She'd received a rather an allowance for the past few weeks, and she wordlessly tucked the wad of cash she'd saved in her shoe, keeping a small wallet with a few dollars in it to give to muggers as a diversion.

At one point she found herself sitting in the closet, wondering what she was doing. She was leaving everything- Bruce, Batman- the home she'd had since she was five. She had no idea where she was going. She couldn't go stay with Wally or Roy- they'd just return her here. As soon as she left this place- she'd be all alone.

Her breath came in quick pants, then, as the fear washed over her in waves. Nobody would have her back anymore- if she got hurt or lost or scared or ran out of money- she'd be on her own. That was a lot for anyone to face, let alone a nine-year old, and hot tears ran down her cheeks as she sat in the darkness.

It would be so much easier to unpack all her things, crawl back in bed, and just stay. But she couldn't- she'd made up her mind. Being out there, alone- was better than living a life without being a hero. Besides- if things got bad enough, she could always come home. Bruce would always take her back, wouldn't he?

The flicker of doubt in her mind- the thought that he wouldn't welcome her home, that he'd cast her out, forget her name like she was dead- scared her even more. But there was no time to be scared, anymore- she had to run while she still could.

She'd wanted to leave a note. She really had. She'd written it out in her mind a thousand times, too- laced with apologizes, with fond memories woven in and gentle words tucked in here and there to let Bruce down gently- to make him realize it wasn't his fault. But in the end, she hadn't written it at all- because that would be a clue, and Bruce was sure to come after her. And this time, she wasn't making any mistakes.

She was hit by a rush of cold air as soon as she opened her window. It blew back her hair, dried the sticky tears on her face- it called to her, begged for her to come chasing after it- free air, where she could make her own life, chose her own destiny. But at the same time, she couldn't help but mourn what she'd be leaving behind.

She tossed down her back-pack first, before gingerly climbing onto the tree just outside her window, slowly making her way down. Even with all the care she took, she still felt her stitches tug painfully now and then.

She made it down, somehow, to the dew-soaked grass. Nice years old, in black converse shoes, jeans, and a red hoodie to cover the cast on her arm and bandages on her stitches, she stared up at the night sky, ready to take on the world.

It was cold but welcoming, and she slung her backpack over her shoulder, running as fast as she could without aggravating her wounds further. She tore across the grass like a bat out of hell, before she reached the stone wall surrounding the manor. Now for the tricky part. She tossed her bag over, pulling the rope and make-shift anchor from her pocket. It was only fifteen feet tall, but it was an arduous climb, her stitched wounds burning and aching body throbbing- she made it over, though, that was what mattered.

By the time she fell onto the grass on the other side, some clouds had revealed the moon. The glow stunned her for a moment, and she realized- with equal parts terror and excitement- that she could be anything, here, outside these walls. A hero or a street rat- it didn't matter, here. no one could tell her what to do. She grinned, slinging her pack over her shoulder again before she'd disappeared down the road- off into a place where she could be anything.

MAILBAG

Lady Syndra, Chapter 93

Hmmm I can see where they are both coming from. The terror Bruce would feel whenever Sparrow is out on the field in danger. Especially events that have occurred recently too. I also understand that Sparrow is a large part of Scarlet's self and identity. I feel inclined to relate to Bruce more than Scarlet though considering she was dying in his arm moments ago. She may say it's an occupational hazard, but it doesn't really justify or pose an argument for continuing her career.

I do hope they figure things out though. It's just sad whenever they argue.

I was wondering, as more of a side note, future interest sort of curiosity if you plan on writing into the Young Justice series plot line? And if you did go into when Dick becomes Nightwing, if you would include the other wards of Bruce? Like Jason, Time and Damian? Just curious to know. It would be an interesting family dynamic to go into I guess haha especially with Scarlet added in

Looking forward to the next chapter!

Thanks! I really enjoyed reading your perspective here- I wanted you guys to see both sides of it.; Bruce isn't some sort of monster because he wants to keep her safe- he's just going about it in ways that's absolutely destroying his daughter's spirits.

As for the future- there's actually a future time-line already written called the Second Bird, detailing Scarlet during the Young-Justice Story arc. That one's already complete, because I'm freaking weird and came up with the idea of a prequel when I was half-way through writing the Second Bird. Also, there's a third story that contains Jason, Tim and Damian, as well as Scarlet and dick, Called Nighthawk Rising, the third part of the trilogy. Thanks for reading, and I'm glad you're enjoying it! :)

Blue Moon Solstice, Chapter 93

Please never throw in the towel. You are so amazing! I think the only reason i hold on to Fanfiction is you and your stories. I might literally owe you my life. So thank you from the bottom of my heart. ️

Aww, well thank you! *rubs back of neck and blushes sheepishly* I'm really glad you're enjoying it. But trust me, I'm no hero, and while there are some incredibly shitty fanfictions out there- there are some good ones that make them all worth reading. I like to sort by the number of favorites they get, since that usually brings up the cream of the crop. As for saving your life- that was all you, my friend. My story is just something to bring you guys pleasure. I'm glad you enjoy it! :)

FINALLY;

Bruce isn't an asshole. I know it seems like he;s acting like one, but try and see ti Bruce's way- he's just watched his daughter be captured and stabbed in front of him, had her nearly bleed out in his arms, and sat beside her bed for three days while she was so drugged up she couldn't understand why she was in pain or do much more than cry. He's- understandably- traumatized.

Am I defending Bruce's actions in taking Scarlet from the hero game for life? no, absolutely not. if anything, I'd say prolonged rest for a month or two and then re-assess the situation, when emotions weren't running so high- but Bruce is trying to be the best father he can by doing what he believes is best for his daughter.

Even if pulling her from the hero game crushes her soul- he'd rather have her alive and pissed than a dead martyr.

That begin said- I wanna know who you guys side with, and your opinion of it all, as I'm curious as to what you guys think, so please tell me (via review). :)