Very sorry for the very long over due update.

Things between me and Bruce were pretty much the same for the last two weeks. We'd go on patrol together, but we only talked to each other when necessary. Most of the time I didn't even bother going back to the cave with him. I'd just go straight home. Tonight was Saturday night and it for sure was going to be a busy one. Not because anything big was going down, mostly because Saturday nights are filled with sexual assaults, muggings, drug deals, and petty thefts. I decided to go to my fathers apartment just to check in before getting ready to patrol. Maybe get some advice? I never tell him the exact details, but just enough to convey the situation. I knocked on the door but no one answered.

"Dad? Are you home?"

Knock, knock. "Dad, its me."

Still no answer. I dug into my purse and found the keys to his place.

When I entered I heard the shower running and on the couch was a purse and a coat. "Jim, that was fast! Were they not open? Jim?"

Detective Essen? I thought. I was paralyzed. My dad had a woman over and not just any woman. It was Sarah Essen...a married woman. My stomach sank as shock set in. I didn't let it paralyze me for too long, because I quickly left back through the front door before Sarah came out of the bathroom. I was hoping to leave before anyone saw me, but I bumped into Dad on the way out.

"Barbara, what are you doing here," he asked. He seemed a bit panicked, curious if I knew what was going on. I sighed and shook my head and kept walking away. He grabbed my hand and pulled so I'd turn around.

Something just clicked for me. It made sense all of a sudden why he was asking me about the old ice cream place we used to go to. Why he would be all the way on the other side of town now. That's where Sarah lives. I remember asking her what neighborhood she moved to.

"I know why you were all the way over on the other side of town at the old place where we'd get ice cream. Sarah lives over there," I said a bit repulsed. His face dropped as he realized he was too late.

"Barbara, let me explain," he said.

"I don't think you need to explain," I replied calmly, but still visibly upset.

"You don't understand the situation."

"Is she still married?"

"Yes, but-"

I cut him off, "Then I understand the situation."

"Its not working out between them," he replied.

"Oh Dad. Come on," I said in disbelief.

"She tired her best to get it to work. Even moved to Gotham for him, but its over."

"She told you that? She told you she was leaving her husband? Her and her husband are getting a divorce?"

"No she hasn't done that yet. Things are complicated right now, but its over."

"You know better than that. You taught me better than that," I said shaking my head.

"She's not in love with him anymore. Their marriage is over," he replied defensively.

"Does her husband know that?"

He was silent as he took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose where the little pads to his glasses usually lay.

"Then she is cheating and you are helping her cheat. There is no other way to spin that Dad," I said sternly.

"Barbara I-"

"I just hope you know what you're doing," I said turning around and walking away as fast as possible. He knew better than to follow me.

Me and Bruce sat on a rooftop and watched as club goers entered and exited the clubs on 52nd Street. Bruce broke the silence between us.

"Is there something wrong," he asked not even looking at me but at the street below.

I just gave him a side eyed glare.

"Other than the obvious," he stated. Knowing full well that they haven't resolved their issues after Ivy and the plantman.

"Yes, there is. I mean I do have a life outside of this."

He chose to ignore my jab. "Is it serious?"

"To me: yes, to you: probably wouldn't be a big deal."

He left it alone at that. What did he want from me anyways? I'm pissed at him. Doesn't he remember that?

Later that night - or more like early morning the next day, I got out of my shower and decided I needed a bowl of ice cream. When I went to my kitchen I noticed a large crack in my window. It looked like it was shot with a BB-gun pallet. I put a finger to the glass and it instantly shattered to the floor where I was standing in my bare feet.

"Damn it!" I was trying my best to step around the broken glass but failed. "Shit!" I stepped on a sharp piece. I limped to the bathroom. Blood was already dripping on the carpet.

I sat on the edge of the tub and fumbled to turn on the faucet as every combination of swear words I knew came tumbling out of my mouth.

"Barbara, let me help," a voice said from behind me. I knew who it was. Who else would be rude enough to spy on me and decide to just enter my apartment uninvited?

"You spying on me?"

"No," he replied. I sighed. I was just too exhausted to care anymore.

"Tweezers are in the drawer, first aid kit is under the sink."

He took his cowl off and his gloves before he rummaged through my drawer. Once he had everything he lowered the lid on the toilet and sat. I lifted my foot up so he could inspect the bottom of it.

"How'd this happen?"

"I'm a masochist. Patrolling with you wasn't enough so I decided to walk on some glass barefoot when I got home," I replied squinting as he pulled glass out of my foot.

He shook his head and laughed a little. I wasn't trying to get a laugh and I was a bit surprised he even remembered how to do that. I hadn't seen him even crack a smile for weeks.

"I noticed some kids in the neighbor had bb-guns earlier. They were probably messing around tonight and shot my window," I added.

"You won't need stitches. Just stay off of it for a day and bandage it well before going out," he said. He held my foot up by the heel and his thumb gently brushed back and forth on my ankle. He simultaneously wrapped my foot with his other hand.

For some reason it was very distracting to me. The way he carefully and gently wrapped my foot was a bit hypnotizing. I started to feel my heart beat a little faster.

"Barbara?"

"Huh?" I replied. I wasn't really listening.

"Is it too tight," he asked a bit confused.

I snapped back to reality. "No it-its fine. Thank you."

"Are you alright?"

I tried to come up with something fast, "I-I was thinking about why I was even in the kitchen in the first place and now I remember...ice cream."

"Ice cream?"

"Yeah, you know, frozen treat - beloved by many," I said very matter of factly.

"What kind do you have," he asked a little intrigued. I was a bit surprised he was even indulging me in this conversation.

"Pistachio."

"Pistachio?"

"Oh come on. I know its not your conventional vanilla or chocolate but it just happens to be my favorite."

"I like pistachio, I'm just surprised that is your favorite," he replied getting up. He offered me a hand in helping me get up. I started to limp over to the kitchen. Before I knew it, I felt an arm on my back and another arm lifting my feet up from behind my knees. He scooped me up like it was nothing. I could feel my face turn red. I wasn't sure if I was blushing or embarrassed. Either way, I did feel a little bit of comfort by the gesture. Who said chivalry was completely dead?

"I can walk," my pride made me protest.

"I know." That was the only response I was going to get. He gently placed me at a chair at the small kitchen table I had and grabbed another chair to prop my foot on.

"What no pillow?" I asked jokingly. Jokes my main defense mechanism. I hope that isn't too obvious.

"Let me clean this up for you," he replied looking at the glass.

"Broom and dust pan are in the closet," I said pointing in the corner. I soon watched him tediously pick up the glass. He was sure not to miss any.

"Where are your bowls," he asked putting the broom away.

"Bowls? Are you going to do the dishes too?" He gave me a pointed look and I sent one right back.

He grabbed the carton out of the freezer and was about to ask where the spoons were.

"Spoons are in the drawer right next to you," I said a little giddy. Who else could say that Batman has served them ice cream in their own kitchen?

"You're enjoying this a little too much," he said placing the carton and a spoon in front of me.

"Where's your spoon?" I asked kicking the chair out across from me with my good foot. He went back to the drawer and grabbed one.

"Why pistachio," he asked sitting down

"I don't know. Maybe cause it isn't overly sweet. I just like it."

The next few minutes were quiet. We both just silently ate out of the carton. It wasn't awkward really. I actually felt comfortable. Actually the most comfortable I've felt around him in weeks.

He then broke our peaceful silence.

"Why are you upset with your father," he asked. I was surprised he knew who I was upset with.

"How'd you know I was upset with him?"

"Only one person I can think of that could disappoint you so badly," he replied leaning back a bit in his chair.

I looked at him dead in the eyes. I could tell he'd already known why.

"Maybe I'm just being a bit unfair. I forget that he's still human. I just never thought he'd ever do what he did."

"You found out that he and Detective Essen are having an affair?"

I glared at him a bit annoyed. Of course he knew.

"You knew and didn't tell me," I said it as a fact. Not as a question.

"Are you upset that I didn't tell you?"

I wasn't. For once he did the right thing by staying out of it. "No. How'd you find out?"

"I saw them together when I was on patrol by myself," he said looking at me straight in the eyes.

"At least Tim wasn't there," I replied staring back at him.

"Barbara this doesn't change anything he's still a good man, a great man."

"I know all this Bruce, so why do you have to say it? To make me feel bad for justly being mad at him?"

"No," he continued, "I've never experienced it and I never will, but there is a time where I suppose children find out that their parents are human and make mistakes."

"I'm not ready yet to talk to him, I'm just still so...disappointed," I hung on my last word. Bruce then got up and put our spoons in the sink and the rest of the ice cream in the freezer. He looked like he was about to leave so I spoke up, finally pointing out the elephant in the room. We were suppose to be angry with each other so why weren't we?

"Are you still disappointed in me?" I asked. He stopped putting his cowl on and looked at me strangely.

"Disappointed? I was never disappointed in you?"

"Then what was that whole 'I trained you better than that' comment you said to me the night I got hurt?"

"I was angry" he replied.

"Why? I didn't do anything wrong," I said confused.

"I know that's the problem. If I hadn't come when I did you'd be-" he didn't want to finish his sentence.

"Oh," is the only response I could come up with. He quickly put on his cowl again and began to leave. Not because he was being a jerk like some would think, but because he was terribly uncomfortable admitting what he just admitted.

"Come over for patrol on Monday. We'll take the car."

Before I could even agree, he was gone.