Barbara leaned back in her chair, staring at the readout on the computer screen with a triumphant smile. It had taken her a little while to conquer the worst of the learning curve on the Delphi. It was such a change in thought that it took some serious concentration, but she was getting a handle on it, and even starting to customize the code a bit to speed things up and make it do exactly what she wanted. She was also starting to figure out the ins and outs of using it to hack her way through the universe. There were enough emulators to let her run anything she wanted, and conversion codes to let them run as native programs as well. In short, she was a happy camper.

And now, she was looking at the full schematics to Guy Falcone's newest nasty little business, running and cooking drugs. She'd hacked her way in with a combination of luck, muscle, and sheer sneakiness that she was mildly amazed to have pulled off, then promptly tinkered a bit and installed a back door she could use any time she wanted. She owned his system now, and he didn't have a clue. Of course, it was pretty obvious that he didn't know that whoever had set up the system had put in the back door that let her get in in the first place. Sneaky bastard had made her job a whole lot easier. She wondered if it was a cop somewhere gathering evidence, a flunky covering his backside, or someone planning on muscling in on the would-be kingpin. In any event, she owed them a debt of gratitude.

"Well?" Dick asked from the couch, his posture deceptively lazy. She glanced at him, noting the computer manual resting open on his chest and the fact that he appeared to be in exactly the same place he'd been in the last time she looked. Okay, maybe not so much deceptively lazy as actually lazy. Fine by her. She was none too eager to let him touch her baby anyway. She knew what Dick could do to a car or a motorcycle. It didn't instill much confidence when it came to the idea of letting him touch a multi-million dollar piece of equipment.

"Got it." She turned the grin his way. "And a whole lot more than you even asked for."

He bounded off the couch, frowning as he joined her and peered past her shoulder.

"I've got their entire filing system ... plus the info on every nasty little corner of their operation. Incoming shipments, various labs ... all of it."

Dick watched as she shuffled through various bits of data, his grin broadening with every addition piece of information she showed him. "Remind me never to get on your bad side." From what he could see she had everything on the guy probably going back to his grade school truancy reports.

She shrugged, but she was grinning, enjoying the hunt even if she couldn't get out and do it personally any more. "I have my moments," she allowed demurely. "I'll just package this up and make sure it gets leaked to the right sources. With this much data, the feds and local cops ... probably even several foreign nations can get a chunk out of him. It'll be like shark feeding time down at the aquarium."

Dick nodded, eyes narrowing, mouth pursing. He hadn't gone to this much effort to just hand Falcone over to law enforcement. Not before he had a little fun with him first. "Where's the man himself?" As much information as she had, she had to know.

Barbara looked up at him over the top of her glasses. "Dick, you can't seriously be thinking of--"

"Where?" His jaw hardened, making him look more like his adopted father than she would have thought possible.

"Alone ... without backup? He's careful and he's always got bodyguards. It's too dangerous to try and go after him alone." She'd gotten the information to turn it over to the proper authorities, not help him get himself killed.

He looked at her, expression far more serious than usual. "I'm going. You can either help me or stay out of the way ... but he's mine."

Barbara sighed very softly, annoyed that he'd choose this time to get stubborn. It didn't happen often, but on the rare occasion he got that look it was useless to try and talk him into or out of anything. He'd already made up his mind and if she didn't work with him, he'd still do it and probably get himself killed. "According to what I found, he's scheduled to check out the lab and warehouse here in town tomorrow night ... but it's heavily guarded ... armed guards, cameras, sensors ... the whole enchilada."

"And you can get me in," he said confidently. "Then out again."

"I'm nowhere near that competent on this system yet," she disagreed, but he only grinned at her. "And there isn't a damn thing I can do about men with guns," she added pertly. There were limits---quite serious ones---to how much good she could do hacking.

"You can do it ... and I can handle the men with guns ... plus since you've improved the old comm-system, we can whispered sweet nothings in each other's ears while I kick his ass."

His rakish grin was meant to be seductive, but it scared the hell out of her. He was taking this way too lightly. Falcone wasn't a two bit operator any more, and the more she looked at his records, the more she thought he'd gotten in with someone a lot bigger time than he was. Falcone had never been what one would call clever or creative, but much of what she was looking at was very clever indeed. Twisted and sick, but clever. Truth be told, she still had her doubts that he'd been the one wanting the Eye of Ra. That seemed more like a front for someone else, though she hadn't the faintest idea who. It didn't seem like the Joker's style, certainly not Hawke's, and she couldn't think of anyone else that Falcone likely had ties to, at least no one major. "Dick--" she tried again, but his eyes remained flinty.

"I'm going in."

"Fine," she exhaled after a long moment, accepting that he wouldn't be dissuaded this time. "I'll help you, but I don't want Helena to know about this." Things had been relatively quiet, a minor miracle given the amount of time Dick was spending in the loft. The last thing she wanted was to have the girl find out and go off half-cocked on some mission of revenge.

"Don't worry," Dick said softly, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Despite Barbara's apparent belief that the sun rose and set on the kid, he was more than happy to cut her out of any loops available, and he certainly didn't want any wet behind the ears teenager trailing after him on a mission, no matter how talented Barbara might consider her to be. "When tomorrow?"

"He's coming in on a charter ... should be at the plant by seven tomorrow night." She glanced at her watch, noted the time. She punched up the plans, refusing to betray any shakiness as she trailed a finger along green lined city plans. "It looks like the best way in is over the wall. Time it right, and you shouldn't have to face the patrols that check the wall. I can shut down the cameras and motion sensors, but you'll have to deal with the guards on the roof. Once you're in...."

He leaned forward, arms wrapped around the chair, hands gripping the armrests, cheek just touching her hair, chin only an inch or two above the line of her shoulder as he listened to her plan. In truth, he'd have preferred to just go in and rely on his wits to save the day, but she was like Bruce, carefully laying everything out in advance, even though nothing ever went according to plan, and they always wound up making it up as they went along. Seemed to him all the planning was mostly a waste of time, but they both seemed to enjoy it, so he was willing to go along. Turning his head, he entertained himself by watching the steady throbbing pulse in her neck, quite fascinated by the tiny, ticking beat. One hand gravitated naturally off the arm of the chair, fingers spreading over the flat plain of her stomach, while he suddenly couldn't resist the urge to taste that throbbing pulse any longer.

"Dick," she murmured, sounding faintly annoyed, "the plan."

"Mmmm, plan: I go over the wall and beat people up ... you do everything else." She turned her head until they made eye contact, her look decidedly disapproving. He only grinned, which drew a long suffering sigh.

"Y'know, the other night when I was asking why Bruce should have trusted me, I think the better question is why did he ever decide to trust you."

Dick's grin broadened. "I'm so damn cute," he offered, hoping to charm her. It occurred to him just how that sounded a millisecond later as her brows shot up and she turned on her, 'is there anything you'd like to tell me?' look. "That didn't come out quite right," he admitted.

"That's a relief," she muttered, returning her attention to the screen and ignoring the way he brushed her hair aside in the interests of exploring her neck more intimately.

"Though," Dick mused between kisses, "I am that damn cute." He laughed softly at her annoyed snort, then complained good-naturedly when she didn't respond, "You work too hard."

"Pardon me for trying to keep you from getting yourself killed," she responded, her tone arch.

"You worry too much." He continued the nibbling and light stroking. "My head's hard and I bounce remarkably well."

A faint smile twisted her lips, but she didn't rise to the bait, simply murmured, "It's not a joke."

He opened his mouth to pop off a fresh one liner, only to have the words dry up as it occurred to him that she had more than a little reason for her seriousness. "Are you okay with this? Being a part of it, I mean?" he asked at last, worried that maybe it was too intense after what she'd already been through.

She glanced over. "Not even remotely comfortable with the idea of you going in alone ... and I'm really not sure I'm ready to go live with the hacking on a new system with someone in a dangerous situation."

He kissed her temple lightly and offered a confident grin. "We'll both be okay."

Entering on that moment, Helena barely resisted the urge to make gagging sounds, proclaim herself blind, and ask that they keep it inside the bedroom. Which, all things considered, she felt was a comparatively mature response given what she really, really wanted to do---which involved tearing the Boy Blunder limb from limb. She was actually rather proud that she managed to mutter, "I'm home," plaster a fake smile on her face, and storm up to her bedroom, the door slam that followed only hard enough to rattle the light fixtures for several yards around instead of everything in the entire apartment the way it had only a couple of days before.

Dick stared at the door, wondering distantly how much more punishment it could take before it just shattered into kindling. "I think she's warming up to me," he deadpanned.

Barbara glanced up, raised an eyebrow, then went back to the computer without further comment. Anything short of armed combat was a gainer as far as she was concerned.

"In a drop dead sort of way," he added wryly.

She didn't respond to that either. She was getting through by firmly refusing to be baited by either of them. She'd made her position clear to all involved. The ball was now in their courts. As long as the combat remained at the relatively low level of sniping and door slamming she wasn't getting involved.

He waited a long moment until he was absolutely certain she wasn't going to comment, then asked more seriously, "So, what's the plan?"

Barbara glanced up just as Helena's stereo went off with the force of a small nuclear blast---a rhythmic nuclear blast with a caterwauling guitar in the background. "She'll be out studying for finals tomorrow night ... so we'll have the place to ourselves." She ignored Dick's doubtfully raised eyebrow, focusing instead on the computer screen. She didn't want Helena anywhere near when they did this, terrified she'd do something stupid, like insist on being involved and get herself killed. When she realized he was staring at her, she sighed softly. "She knows better than to lie to me again."

He rolled his eyes, but didn't challenge the assertion.

Ignoring his obvious doubt, she brought up a three-dimensional plan of the area and indicated a building across from the aging industrial park that hid the drug lab and warehouse. "You can see everything that goes in and out from here. I'll track the incoming flights ... let you know when he's touched down ... then you let me know when he gets there. Once he's inside, I'll take control of their security system ... and we'll go from there...."

He nodded, listening carefully to the details and committing them to memory even though he was comfortably certain it wouldn't happen that way. He'd worked with Bruce Wayne long enough to know that nothing ever worked the way it was supposed to.

Up in her room, Helena just turned the music up a little louder an hour or so later when she still managed to hear the soft sounds of the lift even over the screaming guitar riffs of Midnight Scream. Not her favorite band, despite the apropos title, but they were definitely the loudest and loud was good. Loud battered her eardrums and made it almost impossible to think. It also had the appealing side effect of annoying the hell out of superhero studboy, even if it was some of the worst music on the face of the earth. Maybe if he was sufficiently annoyed he'd actually go home for once. Not that she could blame him for doing his damnedest to spend every last bit of time possible in Barbara's company. In his shoes, she'd have done the same thing. Hell, she did do the same thing every time they had a therapy session and she dragged it out as long as possible, enjoying the company, the trust, the physical contact---even if she was scum for that last one.

Flopping down on the bed, she buried her face in one pillow and yanked the other one over the head to escape the assault of bad music. Unfortunately, escaping the music meant letting her brain function. Not a good thing because then she started imagining what was going on in the nearby bedroom. Unfortunately, she'd always had a very good imagination.

Just remember, she reminded herself when her imagination got too vivid, when he asked if it was going to last, she said no. You can deal with it as long as you have to. You're the one she called family and he's the one she said would lose if she had to choose.

Finally, the CD clicked off, leaving silence in its place, and she didn't bother to put in a new one, just rolled over and fell into an uneasy sleep.

* * * * * *

With different information showing on each of four monitors---one of Barbara's tweaks allowed the Delphi to run like a small network with each monitor showing a separate program---the redhead adjusted the microphone tucked in one ear. "Nightwing ... sound check time," she said into the microphone hanging in front of her mouth, then allowed herself a small smile as Dick's voice came back almost immediately. Looked like her improvements were working.

"You're coming in loud and clear," he started to use her name, cut himself short, then asked, "What should I call you?" Somehow, in all the insanity, they'd forgotten to agree to some kind of code name, and it wasn't wise to go using real names over any kind of open signal, no matter how scrambled she'd been able to make it.

Barbara hadn't really considered the question, started to give the obvious answer---Batgirl---only to change her mind. She noted the logo on the computer and smiled. "Oracle," she said softly, thinking it was all too apropos.

Dick chuckled softly, clearly getting the joke. "Got it ... Oracle." She heard the faint rustle of boots on cheap tin roofing. "I can see the guards on the roof. They aren't wearing night vision gear, so it should be easy enough to get past them if you can shut down the electronic surveillance and motion sensors. Just let me know when it's time to move."

She pulled up the tracking information from the tower at the airport. "I've got his transponder signal. Looks like he's about fifteen minutes out. It'll take at least twenty minutes for him to get there after he's touched down, so you might as well get comfortable."

"I always hate this part," he muttered, "hurry up and wait ... hurry up and wait."

"Don't we all?" she murmured sympathetically, smiling ever so slightly as she remembered all the ways she'd entertained herself over the years while perched in some uncomfortable spot, usually in some uncomfortable position, waiting for something to happen. Now, there was no waiting. She was doing a dozen things at once, bouncing between programs, tracking everything she could think of to make absolutely certain that nothing went wrong from her end.

* * * * * *

Poised on a rooftop across the way from the innocent looking, walled-in industrial park that hid the drug lab, Dick Grayson settled in for the wait, taking on the semi-relaxed, semi-tense position he was so accustomed to, ready to react if the unexpected happened, but not too stressed so as not to go into a fight already exhausted from just sitting around. Several minutes passed while he watched the silent buildings across the way and listened to the soft background noise of typing in his ear. "Do you miss it?" he asked at last. She could be hard to read, and he couldn't help but wonder if the injuries she'd suffered had scared her away from the insanity of their old hobby, or was she sitting around, longing for that old freedom and madness.

Silence followed the hesitant question, even the typing no longer in evidence. "Of course I do," she admitted after a long moment, though the answer was cooler than he expected as though she was containing any emotion behind a very high wall.

"I'm glad," he admitted, "because I miss you." Not the staid, stable Barbara Gordon, but the black garbed friend who'd leapt from building to building with him. "I mean ... y'know ... the time we used to spend together," he said, then felt the need to say more when he realized his answer could be misread---particularly in light of their current relationship. "I mean ... not being alone at times like this."

There was a quiet note of understanding in her voice as she assured him, "I know what you mean."

"Nothing's the same anymore," he sighed sadly, missing the days when they would have been someplace like this together, often using hand signals to communicate, so attuned to one another that they even had silent jokes that would bring knowing grins. He felt like he didn't know her anymore and it scared him. Or maybe he'd never really known her, just the side she chose to let him see, he mused, which, in some ways, scared him even more.

"No, it's not," she sighed, and the sounds of typing returned along with the occasional squeak of a wheel.

"Do you ever get mad at him?" he asked, feeling more lonely as he waited on that rooftop than he could remember feeling since he was a boy and had just lost his parents. Even though Bruce and Barbara were still alive, one had left without telling anyone where he was going and the other seemed so different than he remembered that she wasn't quite the same person most of the time. And now he was out there alone, and it wasn't nearly as much fun as the old games.

No need to ask who he was. "Sometimes I think I'm angrier at him than ... than any of us," she admitted, her voice soft and a little bitter as she added, "The last time I saw him was when we said goodbye that night." Genuine hurt threaded through her voice, "As far as I know he didn't even come to the hospital."

Not realizing she'd thought that, Dick flinched. "You're wrong," he said softly. "He was there ... when they brought you in ... and later ... but she was there too ... and she couldn't deal ... so he stayed out of her way." He shrugged, resenting the girl again despite his best efforts. Even knowing what she'd been through, he couldn't quite forgive the impact she'd had on his life. "I guess he figured she needed to be there more than he did ... but he checked on you every night ... and I'd bet money he was still here ... somewhere ... even after we thought he'd gone." Bruce had his dark moods, but he'd never been one to leave friends in a lurch, even though it might seem that way sometimes.

"I've thought that a few times," Barbara mused out loud, "sometimes even thought I could feel him watching." A long pause. "Does that sound crazy?"

"No," he whispered. "I've felt it too sometimes." The problem was he never knew if he was right, or if the feeling was just a figment of his imagination; a kind of phantom sensation, like those experienced by amputees who can still feel the missing limb.

And then there was no more time for personal discussions as Barbara suddenly whispered, "Plane's landed."

* * * * * *

Barbara tapped into the airport security system, squinting to make sense of the poor quality, black and white shot of the small plane that pulled into a private gate. Tall and well dressed---New Gotham's own private Dapper Don---Falcone stepped off the plane and disappeared into a waiting sedan, several bodyguards in attendance. "He's in a dark Chrysler sedan," Barbara informed Dick. "Looks like four personal bodyguards." She shifted to another station and started working her magic, fingers moving rapidly over the keyboard. "Can't see well enough to see how well armed, but they didn't look to be carrying anything larger than a handgun. Can't tell you what might be in the car though."

"Four huh?" Dick murmured, sounding uneasy.

Hoping that maybe he was thinking better of this plan, Barbara quickly said, "I can still get the cops ... let them clean it up." She liked that plan better anyway.

She could just envision the determined look in his eye. Dick had a stubborn streak. It didn't show up very often, but it was there. "Remember ... no killing," she reminded him.

* * * * * *

"Right," Dick exhaled, though he was human enough to contemplate squeezing the life out of the bastard.

Minutes later, he watched the sedan pull through the gates, noting the well armed guards that abruptly appeared with a raised eyebrow. Not just any old warehouse, now was it? "He's here," he informed Barbara.

"Okay, just give me a moment," she instructed him. "Remember, I'll be looping the security cam footage, so they won't be able to see you, but neither will I."

"Check."

Several moment passed, and then her voice echoed in his ear. "Okay, you should be clear now."

"Check," Dick said again and turned away, hurrying back to the access ladder he'd used to reach the roof. He moved fast and soon was soon over the wall and hidden in the shadows of the warehouse. He trotted along the wall until he found a route up, then started climbing. "I'm going up," he told her, his voice nearly inaudible.

"Be careful," she whispered.

"Always," he assured her.

* * * * * *

Mentally tracking his position, Barbara was already hacking her way through the next layer in the security system guarding the drug lab. She pulled up a picture, smiling grimly as she tracked Falcone's progress through the complex. He was being led by a harassed looking geeky sort who kept pointing out assorted equipment and looking like . To anyone who didn't know what was going on, it might have just looked like any plant owner being shown the workings of the place. "I'm linked up with the interior cameras. He's inside." She carefully checked the other figures following the two men. "Looks like the weaponry is minimal, but judging the by jacket bulges, his bodyguards are definitely armed ... something pretty good sized ... and one on each side. Probably twin .45s or .44 mags ... I'm going to try and break them away from him and lock them out once you move, but no guarantees."

"Gas?" he asked, his tone practical.

"That would be my choice in your shoes." It would worsen vision, but he had the gear to breathe safely and with luck, he could knock out his enemy and get away clean. And then she heard a soft grunt, followed by several soft thuds, another grunt or two, and the sound of Dick's breathing, harsh and strained. "Be okay, be okay," she mouthed without making a sound. There were four guards on the roof. Normally, the sort of thing he could handle, but it was enough that it was far from guaranteed, and Dick got cocky sometimes and wasn't as careful as he should be. "Nightwing?" she whispered when he still hadn't responded.

"I'm okay," he assured her after another good, solid thump. He was wheezing faintly, she noticed. "That last guy just took a little extra work."

"Dammit, don't scare me like that," she pleaded. Listening to the uneven timbre of his breathing, Barbara could feel her tension building, some part of her painfully convinced this was just a bad idea. She was new on this computer and Dick was all alone in there and there were just too many possibilities for disaster. She should have refused. Except if she had, he would have gone ahead and made the attempt anyway. A fresh command unlocked the locks on the roof access. "You should be clear to enter," she informed him, then heard him moving followed by a soft rustling sound.

"Okay, I'm inside," he informed her, and she exhaled a heavy sigh of relief. "It's a steep staircase ... can't see anyone moving below me." She heard the faint his as he drew a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"I've got the cams on the stairwell looped. You can go ahead. Go down two floors and then wait for my signal."

She was already working the next problem, namely popping the keypad on the locks that would let him into the main part of the building, and looping the footage on the next set of cameras, so he wouldn't be seen by whoever was monitoring the live feed.

She rechecked everything, making sure the next little way was clear, then set the loop and popped the locks. "Okay, you can go through."

The tiny dinging alarm from her laptop brought her head up almost immediately. She'd linked it into the system, using it to track the other back door in the system on the off chance the other hacker showed up. She'd also set it up so it could remain remotely linked to the Delphi via wireless modem if absolutely necessary. It wasn't as reliable as she would have liked, and she didn't expect to have to use it, but she'd been taught paranoia young and learned the lesson well. A hand swung over, typing quickly even as she saw the image loops she'd installed start to come down, the real live time images coming back online one by one. "Oh shit," she exhaled. The other hacker was back and undoing everything she'd set up so carefully. Not good, not good at all. They hadn't shown up during any of her previous forays, which meant either they were very lucky, or she'd missed some kind of watchdog in the system. Either way, the mission had to be scrubbed.

"Nightwing, get out of there ... now."

"I said, move it," she said without pausing, her fingers already dancing over the keyboard in a digital wrestling match. She heard him hit something solid and metallic.

She turned her attention back to the system, trying to unstick it, but whoever was on the other end had things well and truly jammed. "Okay, I want you to go forward and to your left," she told him even as his image came up on one of the camera views. "And be ready for anything. You're back on candid camera ... I've got company in the system, and they're undoing everything I've done as fast as they can."

His response was short, to the point, and quite obscene, but she could hear him running.

She'd known this was a bad idea. "Okay, there's a window in the corridor straight ahead. It's not neat, but it'll get you out of there." She punched in another set of codes and managed to knock most of the cameras down, which might keep them from finding him, but it would undoubtedly serve as a big, red warning flag to whoever was looking for him.

Then somebody started bringing them back online, but blocking her access at the same time. As she watched in horror, signals started going dark all across the board.

"Wait, I don't think anyone knows I'm here," he argued with her plan. "There's nobody moving ... no alarms--"

"You're on camera, Nightwing ... or at least, you were," she added uncertainly, fingers still dancing as she fought her unseen opponent, trying to find out what they knew. "So I'm sure somebody knows." She could feel her frustration rising with his refusal to just listen to her and get the hell out of there. "Just get out of there."

"There he is," Dick whispered suddenly, raw emotion making his voice rough.

"Where the hell are you?" she demanded. If Dick had even remotely been following her directions, he shouldn't have been anywhere near Falcone.

Barbara stared at the building plans and cursed. "You didn't do what I told you."

"Dammit," she didn't get a chance to finish bitching him out as her backdoor suddenly started locking down on her, the passcodes on different services changing in front of her eyes. "Get out of there ... get out now," she barely controlled the urge to shout. "It's a goddamned trap."

"Yeah, I got that part," he exhaled, suddenly sounding faintly ill.

Suddenly the cameras came back online with a fresh angle, an overview of Dick's position. She hadn't done it, so she had no doubt it was courtesy of the other ghost in the machine ... taunting her now. As she watched, she saw men converging on him. "You've got eight men ... all sides ... but it looks like only two o'clock and four o'clock have guns."

"Got it," he said sharply. "That means they go down first."

She watched the figure on the screen explode into motion, moving almost inhumanly quickly, striking out, hitting, kicking, and throwing his would-be attackers about. He was fighting well, but there were more of them coming, and even Nightwing had his limits.

Unfortunately, she couldn't afford to sit still. She was too busy digging in and trying to do something to regain control of the system.

He took down four of his eight attackers in moments, clearing a pathway to his left.

"Take that corridor," she told him, fighting with the locks that would give him some breathing room.

The other ghost fought her, but this time Barbara won the battle, popping the keycode before the other hacker could change it. Dick dove through just ahead of his ever expanding batch of pursuers, and she snapped the door shut in his wake, throwing the locks, then scrambling the codes. "Keep going," she instructed him. "I'm going to try and shut off the cameras so they can't track you anymore, but if I do, you're going to have to tell me exactly where you are."

And then she yanked another keyboard over, fingers moving rapidly, forcing her way into the computer network that controlled the city utilities. If necessary, maybe she could kill the power and throw another monkey wrench into the works. Dick was used to working the dark, the guards weren't.

* * * * * *

Dick nodded, breathing hard as he kept running, ducking and dodging down corridors under her commands until she informed him the cameras were dead, and then he was telling her where he was as he dropped down another story and raced through the haphazardly arrayed cubicles and corridors, then broke into the overlook on a large storage area. "I'm on the second level, overlooking the ground floor warehouse," he told her.

"That's good," she panted. "There should be catwalks overhead, and a ladder access to your right. Get up there and across, and getting out should be easy." He heard more of the rapid fire typing. "I'm going to kill the power. That way they won't be able to see you."

He tipped his head up, tracking a ladder that ran up the side of one wall to a series of catwalks high overhead that could be used to access the cooling ducts and light system. They would take him right over the heads of the men looking for him and straight to a bank of high windows across the way. A way out, he realized and fought the urge to heave a sigh of relief. No use getting too excited until he was clear. "Brilliant, Oracle," he said gratefully, and started the climb up the ladder, moving fast to get clear of the area before anyone noticed him. He was halfway up when the industrial lighting died a quick death and the roof blowers circulating the air slowed to a halt.

"Power's down," she informed him needlessly. "I cut it through the city system, so the hacker shouldn't be a problem."

"Remind me never to get on your bad side," he murmured, moving even faster.

He hated the idea, but didn't bother to argue this time. With everything going on, it wasn't the time for personal vendettas. As he reached the top, he looked up, a smile touching his mouth as he noted that the ladder just kept going. "Wait a minute. I can get onto the roof from here ... then just go across and down.

His mouth twisted in a grin. "I'd rather take my chances with them than those guys following me," he pointed out logically.

"Maybe," she exhaled, sounding very uncertain.

He kept climbing and pushed his way out through a trap door obviously meant to access the roof, a cool wind ruffling his hair as he made his way to some semblance of freedom. "We're gonna be okay," he panted, thinking that clearly they needed to refine their technique a little more before trying any stunts like this again. And then he was jogging across the rooftop, aiming to simply drop to the ground in back, then make a run for it.

He ran surprisingly quietly, despite the circumstances, experienced enough to know how to keep his footsteps light even when moving that quickly and kept his eyes peeled, watching for any sign that he'd been spotted.

His mistake was to forget to check the surface of the roof.

The skylight had been painted out to prevent anyone seeing in, so he didn't catch a glint of moonlight on glass until it was too late and he was aimed straight for it. Suddenly he was falling, crashing through glass, arms and legs pinwheeling helplessly. He hit something hard, the edge of a catwalk railing that knocked the wind from his lungs and sent a bolt of agony through his left arm when he tried to catch himself without success, fell again, then finally hit bottom as the world went black, his last conscious memory, the sound of Barbara's voice screaming his name in his ear.

* * * * * *

Helena's first thought as she pulled Barbara's car into her slot in the underground parking garage beneath the clocktower and realized the redhead was inside the van in the next slot, was that she was seriously busted. The stereo was rampaging and Barbara was very firm about the fact that she wasn't supposed to have it loud enough to block out normal traffic sounds. She'd even threatened to sell the car the moment Helena ignored her rules, since she couldn't use it any more. The teen slammed the volume down as fast as she could, but there was no way her guardian couldn't have noticed the ear shattering sound, and she fully expected a van window to slide down and the bellowing to start. For someone who could be so totally cool about some things, Barbara could also turn into an adult at the most annoying times.

Only it didn't. Instead, Barbara didn't even look up, her entire concentration on whatever she was doing inside the van as she settled herself, then turned to deal with something in the front passenger's seat. Helena had the strangest feeling her guardian hadn't even heard the stereo, which was impossible, given that it had been loud enough to shake loose any less than secure particles of cement from the walls of the surrounding building. Something, Helena realized in a rush, was very wrong. She piled out of the car and crossed the short distance between the two vehicles, coming up on the passenger's side and peering in through the window. Barbara's head was down, and Helena could see an open laptop on the passenger's seat....

Right next to her batons, a tazer, nunchucks, and a pair of handcuffs, as well as several other devices Helena didn't recognize, but was comfortably certain were weapons.

The girl's heart hit her throat in an instant.

Helena had keys to the van on her ring and she didn't even pause, just unlocked the passenger door and yanked it open.

Green eyes snapped up, and Helena saw a slender hand start to dart toward the batons only to come up short as Barbara realized who the intruder was. "Go to your room. I'll be home later," the redhead snapped as though she wasn't sitting in the middle of her own private armory.

"Like hell," Helena exhaled, eyes wide, mouth wanting to hang open. Something was really, seriously wrong. "What's going on?"

"Nothing you need to worry about," Barbara clipped and twisted in her seat, starting the engine. "Just something I need to deal with. Now, go."

"You've got a small arsenal in here, for god's sake," Helena said, shaking her head in disbelief. "Why?"

"It's nothing," Barbara shot back impatiently, and started the engine. "Now, I need you to--"

"Does this have something to do with Falcone?" Helena demanded, completely ignoring her guardian's orders. She couldn't help but remember what she'd overheard between Barbara and Dick. Nightwing had been hunting for the bastard. Had he found him? She got an answer of sorts when the redhead lost all color.

"Just go upstairs," Barbara bit out, but the panic in her eyes confirmed Helena's worst fears. She didn't know what had happened, but it was obvious that something had.

"Barbara, if that bastard's involved, you can't--"

"I need you to go upstairs and stay out of it ... now," the redhead cut Helena off, her voice hard, her expression grim. She wasn't negotiating this one.

Helena shook her head. "No, not until you--"

"I don't have time!" Barbara exploded, then abruptly reached across the passenger's seat and yanked the door shut, snapping the locks and throwing the car into reverse before Helena could do a thing to stop her, moving suddenly enough that the girl leapt back instinctively, though she was in no danger of being hit.

Barbara glanced back, her face momentarily reflected in the rear view mirror, pale and frightened, and then she was focused front again and gunning the engine.

Helena didn't pause to consider her response, just leapt, low and fast. Her feet hit the back bumper as preternaturally strong hands caught hold of the spare tire on the back and she ducked low to avoid being seen through the rear window. It was not exactly the ideal way to go riding through town, but something was up, and she had no intention of being left out---not if one of the people who'd contributed to her mother's death was involved, and not if Barbara was walking into some kind of danger. No way was she going up to her room like a good, little girl if either option was in play. She didn't know where the hell the Boy Blunder was, but if he wasn't going to do the right thing and make sure the woman he was involved with was safe, Helena damn well would.

Teeth gritted, she pulled herself tighter against the rear of the van, muttering every single obscenity she could think of as Barbara drove wildly through the streets of Gotham, screeching her tires on every corner, running red lights, and swerving wildly into every narrow space between cars that might gain her an extra few feet. If they both came out of this little adventure alive, it was going to be a fairly major miracle, Helena decided as she clung so tightly, she left dents in metal. The woman was desperate and scared in a way that the girl had never seen before, not even when they'd both been facing down four armed thugs. Once or twice, she thought she heard her talking---calling out really---the Boy Blunder's name appearing prominently---maybe on a cell phone or something like that. Barbara sounded as scared as she'd looked, and as scared as she was driving.

Not good. Not even a little.

And then they were pulling onto a darkened street that Helena recognized as part of the industrial district, slowing slightly, the headlights gleaming as they touched on functionally ugly buildings, most of which had seen better days. The van moved through the confusing tangle of narrow streets, and then slowed ever further, the lights going black as the van, suddenly swung into a narrow driveway. They went a short distance, then finally pulled up next to a dilapidated warehouse of some kind, dark on the inside, better than half of the high windows broken out.

The girl heaved a sigh of relief as the engine went silent, then realized that relief wasn't necessarily a very sensible emotion given Barbara's obvious fear. She was here for a reason and it wasn't likely to be a rousing game of hopscotch. She could hear Barbara moving around inside the van. Concluding the van wasn't going to suddenly pull away again, the girl dropped to the ground, moving quickly around to the passenger's side where her keys were still caught in the lock. She unlocked the door, yanked it open, and lunged across the passenger seat almost in one move, grabbing the handcuffs lying next to the gun as she dove forward. She saw Barbara's head come up, registered her look of surprise and snapped one bracelet around a narrow wrist, latching the other one to the steering wheel before the other woman could respond.

"What the hell?" the redhead ground out, eyes blazing with fury once she realized it wasn't an outside threat.

"What's going on?" Helena demanded as she pulled back out of range of Barbara's reach. "And don't give me any bullshit," she snarled, eyes gleaming as she grabbed the key off the seat and stuffed it in her pocket.

"Give me the keys," Barbara snapped and held out her hand to the limits of the handcuff.

Helena just shook her head and backed up another step, her expression somewhere between defiant and scared.

"Give me the keys and go home ... now," the redhead growled, serious and angry in a way Helena had never seen her before.

The girl shook her head, amazed at her own temerity. She wasn't letting the other woman get herself killed even if it meant Barbara wound up hating her guts. "Not until you tell me what's going on." And maybe not even then. "Is it Falcone?" she demanded again.

Barbara took a deep breath, calming the absolute fury, well aware she couldn't afford it, not when Dick's life was resting in her hands. Obviously Helena had heard something she wasn't supposed to, so lying was pointless. "The building across the way belongs to Falcone. He's there ... and Dick went in after him, with me handling the security system ... only another hacker got in ... fucked things up." She slapped her hand into the steering with, ignoring the throbbing pain it set off in her wrist. "I've got their cameras hung up, but Dick's down. I haven't heard from him in about twenty minutes. Now I need you to unlock the cuffs and go home ... because I've got to try and find a way to get him out of there." Assuming he was even still alive, something she couldn't be entirely certain of.

"How?" Helena demanded as she absorbed the speedily offered answers, her expression twisted with disbelief. "By rolling up and politely asking them to hand him over?" She shook her head, wondering if sleeping with the Boy Blunder had made the woman's brain go on the fritz.

"I'll figure something out," Barbara growled, though she didn't even have the beginnings of a plan. "Now, give me the keys."

Helena shook her head again, unwilling to let the redhead throw her life away that way, because she could see the desperate intention in green eyes. She'd do it and never even question the insanity of it. She pointed at the 2-way earphone and mic hooked to Barbara's ear. "You got another one of those?"

"Yeah, but--"

"Fine, I'll go," Helena couldn't believe she was saying it even as the words left her mouth. She was about to go in to try and save the life of a man she resented, loathed, and very nearly hated ... for her. Because if she didn't Barbara would go in there and get herself killed---because she loved him, and Helena couldn't stand the idea of the other woman losing anything else. And worst of all, she was going to do it because, love him or hate him, Dick Grayson was a decent man, and she couldn't stand on the sidelines and let him be murdered by the same people who'd killed her mother and wounded Barbara; a fact which would have disturbed her if she'd stopped to think about it. That sentiment was far too much like something her much despised father might feel for her comfort.

"I can't let you--"

"You can't stop me," Helena corrected her, her tone hard. "You can either help me, or you can stay on the sidelines." She flinched at the flash of pain the harsh reminder brought to green eyes, but none of them had time for it. "Your choice."

Barbara shook her head, yanking her wrist uselessly against the restraint of the handcuff. "Give me the damn key."

"I'm not letting you kill yourself that way," Helena said very softly, her tone a little sympathetic, but determined as she turned away and started toward the buildings where Dick had disappeared. "But if you won't help me, I'll just go ahead and--"

"Fine, I'll help you," angry and stressed the word cut through the knife, and Helena pivoted just in time to catch a small transceiver tossed her way. "Now give me the damn key." Barbara knew she could pick the lock, but that would take time she simply didn't have.

Helena tucked the unit into her ear and arranged the piece that wrapped around the ear to hold it into place, then settled the microphone. When she was done, she lobbed the key, waiting while Barbara freed herself, then dragged her laptop over and started typing.

"Okay, you should be able to hear me now," the redhead said so softly Helena couldn't hear her voice on the air, but she heard it over the speaker tucked in her ear. "Mic check."

Helena didn't know what to say, so she just whispered, "Testing one, two, three."

Barbara nodded, "All right ... refer to me as Oracle ... no real names over open mic. I'll call you--"

"Huntress," Helena said very softly, the derivation of her mother's old nickname for her feeling right. Not so little now, the hunter was all grown up. She drew closer again, watching the woman in the van, feeling comforted by the delicate electronic strand that now bound them together. Fear coiled tight in the pit of her stomach, but the warm voice in her ear chased it away almost instantly.

"Okay," Barbara agreed. "I've got the cameras and night vision down ... Dick dented the guards, but some may be regaining consciousness by now ... and you will do exactly as I tell you ... if that means I tell you to run, you run ... no argument." Her voice was deadly serious in a way Helena had never heard before. "We're in this situation because Dick wouldn't listen to me, so don't you dare--"

"I won't," Helena promised, her tone serious. "I swear. If you say run, I'll make like a bunny."

Barbara's eyes slid closed for just a second, the urge to call a halt to it all nearly overwhelming. If she could come up with anything else, she'd have been doing it. "This isn't right," she exhaled. "You're just a kid."

"I'm going in whether you help me or not," Helena reiterated, and meant it. She couldn't allow Barbara to go in when it would only get her killed, and if she called the cops, Dick was almost certain to wind up dead. She had to try. "And you were both younger than I am when you started."

She was going to hell, Barbara decided right then and there. Going to hell, and rightfully so. She had no business letting the girl go in there or exposing her to danger, and yet she could see the familiar determination in blue eyes and knew what it meant. In that moment, Helena looked eerily like the father she'd never known. "All right," she whispered. "I've killed the power, so the lights and cameras are off ... at least for the moment, but it's possible some of them may have night vision equipment, so don't assume they can't see you. You'll be going over the wall. I don't want to take you in the same way I did Nightwing---they'll be looking for that---and the last time I heard from him, he was in a different area ... in the back ... from the sound of it that area's not well guarded. With luck, he's still in the area." Then she reached into an open bag that sat on the floor on the passenger's side. "And put this on." She thrust a black domino mask at Helena.

The girl peered at the mask, then at her guardian.

"There are cameras ... if they get the power back on, they'll be live again," Barbara said quickly. And they'd both had their pictures in the paper the year before. If somebody got a look at Helena, they might connect the two.

Cursing softly under her breath, the girl nonetheless tugged it into place, then didn't wait for any more admonitions or half panicked commands, just turned and took off at a dogtrot.

"Don't get cocky," Barbara's voice rang in her ear.

A wry smile twisted full lips as it occurred to the teenager that every response she could think of was likely to get her grounded for the rest of her natural life. Her eyes glossed gold, the world shifting as inhumanly perfect night vision kicked into gear. As she crossed the street, a slender figure all in black, wholly out of place in the industrial district, she spotted two guards on the roof, but paid them little mind. She knew all sorts of ways of not being seen. Growing up as Selina's Kyle's only child had taught her that much. Her mother might not have minded most of her extra curricular activities, but that didn't mean she hadn't gotten quite good at keeping them hidden. She listened, her hearing more than good enough to be confident there was no one close to the wall, then leapt, easy dropping to the ground on the other side.

"Got it," she murmured, her voice low as she ran, confident despite the darkness. With her powers active, she could see almost as well as she could in daylight, certainly far better than anyone who might have been hunting her. "There are two guards moving on the roof, but it doesn't look like there's anyone else on the grounds."

"Will do."

* * * * * *

Even though she'd killed the power, there were still some remnants of the system controlling the drug lab online. Obviously, some elements weren't at that location, and the hacker was trying any number of tricks to block Barbara out, while the redhead kept fighting with the system, trying to retake total control with the idea that if she had that, she could flip the power back on and control any threats more directly. As she worked, she kept an ear cocked to Helena's situation, tracking her movements and ready to drop everything in a heartbeat. The other hacker was good, playing like a pro, not enough better than she was to completely wrest control back, but neither was she good enough to retake command of the system, setting up a push-pull of power grabs as they each tried to maneuver around the other. "C'mon, Nightwing, talk to me," she pleaded, so desperate she almost turned the cameras back on. Except if he was okay, they might just let his pursuers know where he was.

"He'll be okay," Helena's voice rang in her ear, soft and sympathetic enough to draw a watery smile from the woman. Considering how thoroughly Helena detested Dick, she knew the comfort wasn't lightly given.

"God, I hope you're right." Barbara couldn't even contemplate any other options. There'd already been too many losses. She couldn't face any more.

Barbara snapped the plans to the building onto her monitor despite the fact that she'd already committed them to memory and knew every inch of the scale drawings like the back of her hand. "The last time I spoke to Dick he was on the roof."

"Be careful ... I don't know how what he ran into."

Not possible, Barbara thought with some irony. "Just be careful," she repeated, her voice more emotional than she meant it to be. God, if anything happened to the girl she was going to have to finish her plan to do a header off the clocktower. She couldn't live with that idea. Couldn't even contemplate living with it. "Please."

"I'll be okay," the girl whispered, her voice soft and understanding.

Barbara forced herself to calm down and focus on the problem at hand, not the gut-rotting terror that Helena would be hurt. "You should see a bank of windows above the loading dock...."

"They lead to a catwalk above the main warehouse. You should be able to get a look inside and see if there's anyone moving."

* * * * * *

"Understood, Oracle," Helena whispered, then broke into a run, staying low and moving fast, letting go of her normal self and becoming one with the night, a thing of the shadows, just like she had as a child when she'd learned to follow her mother on the rooftops above Gotham City. By trial and error, she'd discovered all the ways to stick to the shadows and find the dark places in which to hide, and she used those skills to their utmost value. There were a couple of empty shipping vans and she used those for cover then ducked down behind the edge of the loading dock. One quick leap took her onto the thin metal roof that stretched over the loading dock, and a second took her up to the windows. She landed lightly on the narrow ledge, gripping the frame where she could reach through because of an open panel. "I'm on the window ledge," she whispered, then eased in through the narrow gap in the glass, clinging easily to her high perch above the ground floor. Blue eyes searched the darkened confines of the huge area, tracing the outlines of huge crates and smaller boxes, plus stacks of what looked like green hay bails covered in huge sheets of thin plastic---probably marijuana. Looked like Falcone was selling the complete package. She easily spotted a couple of figures moving through the stacks, their strides hurried as they checked the nooks and crannies. "There are a couple men moving in the warehouse ... moving fast. They're searching."

"Which means they haven't found him," Barbara exhaled, her relief palpable.

"That'd be my guess," Helena admitted. She searched the catwalks and the rafters. "No sign of anyone moving up here though." The mask itched, the edges tweaking her peripheral vision and making her think things were coming up from her sides so she peeled it off and shoved it in her pocket. With the power off, the cameras weren't working, and there was no one around to see her, so she saw no need for the precaution. "I'm going on up to the roof." She slipped back out, leaning into the faint breeze that played with her hair. A short leap took her straight up and she caught the edge of the roof, doing a quick vault to take her on up. A moment of being airborne and then she landed lightly, tense and cautious, searching the darkened roofline for any sign of pursuit. Nothing. "I'm on top. Looks clear." Moving light and quick, she searched for some sign of the missing Nightwing. Nothing. And then she noted the sharp edge and faint rise of some kind of frame set in the roof. She trotted quickly, coming up short as she reached the edge and saw the glittering edges of broken glass. "I think I know what happened to Nightwing. There's a broken skylight up here ... looks like it was painted out. He probably never saw it."

Helena crouched down, peering through the open window frame past the interconnected catwalks, to the crates and bales far below, frowning as she searched the deep shadows for any signs of a black garbed figure. It took her a moment to be certain, but then she spoke up softly. "I think I see him ... he's not moving though."

"Oh God," Barbara's sick exhalation sent a bolt of pity through Helena. She knew that helpless feeling all too well.

"Looks like he landed on one of the bales ... not cement. He may just be unconscious," Helena offered what little comfort she could even though he was awfully still. She leaned forward, gripping the rail around the edge of the broken glass to see better. There were two pairs of men moving, searching for the invader, but they were on the opposite end of the huge room, and the bale Dick was lying on appeared to be at least ten, and maybe more like fifteen feet high. He hadn't been seen so far, so with luck, she wouldn't be either. "I'm going in."

"Be careful," Barbara whispered again.

Helena could hear the fear, and even kind of understood it. This had to be sheer hell for someone whose basic inclination was to protect others---to be stuck on the sidelines, unable to do what every instinct told her she should be doing. "I will be ... I promise," she whispered, then stepped forward and dropped straight down. For just a second, she was flying, then she touched down on the catwalk railing directly beneath the window, landing impossibly lightly on the narrow bar before kicking off again. Once again the sense of flying swept over her, her descent amazingly controlled. An eerily graceful landing came a moment later, her feet crunching thin plastic gently as she sank into the bales it covered. She instantly dropped to a crouch next to the figure lying crumpled, face down. "He's breathing," she told Barbara as she rested a hand lightly on his back, then reached around, fumbling uncertainly for the pulse in his throat. "Pulse is steady. Looks like he just knocked himself silly."

"Nightwing ... Nightwing," Helena hissed, crouching down to hiss in his ear. She shook his shoulder lightly, then dropped low as she heard the soft sound of voices drawing closer. He chose that moment to stir ever so slightly, groaning softly, and she flattened her hand over his mouth, terrified he might wake up just enough to say something and get them both killed. The voices drew closer---a woman and a man by the sound of it---and Helena twisted, peering over her shoulder, a hint of a frown creasing her brow as she caught a glimpse of movement, the very top of what looked for all the world like some kind of court jester's hat. She was still questioning her own sanity when the man lying sprawled suddenly came awake in an instant, rolling before she had a chance to react and tumbling her beneath him. "Dick," she hissed, praying he was the only one to hear.

He froze, staring at her in confusion. "Helena?"

She didn't bother to reply, just grabbed the front of his costume and yanked him down next to her as she heard the voices drawing closer. "Quiet," she hissed, praying he'd just listen to her.

Movements hesitant, he reached up and straightened his earpiece, tucking it back into place. "Oracle?" he breathed, his voice barely audible.

"Do what she tells you, Nightwing," Barbara whispered in their ears.

Dick didn't know what to make of the situation. His skull throbbed like someone had taken a jackhammer to it---along with just about every other part of his body---and now Helena was there. He glanced at the girl, barely able to make out her features in the dark. She made a shushing face and he nodded, sinking down into the black plastic, tense and uncertain.

"This is bad," Barbara whispered. "There are two trucks pulling into the driveway ... with men in the back. Looks like they've got reinforcements coming in," she warned them over the two-way. As if to confirm the news, headlights gleamed through the high warehouse windows, the sound of heavy vehicles drawing closer even as the two people walking their way did the same, their voices growing clearer as they drew nearer.

Helena managed to make sense of the man's voice first, his tone nervous---no, more than nervous, scared. "...almost had him until the system went down ... and now ... well, I can't help the fact that the batteries on my laptop aren't holding a charge anymore--" She signaled for Dick to stay where he was and carefully crept closer to the end of their perch, ears cocked to hear anything possible about the newcomers moving their way.

"I understand," the one in the court jester's hat murmured, her tone low and soothing---almost hypnotic. "It's not your fault."

"N-no ... it's not. I'm glad you understand that ... I've always been loyal."

"Of course you have. Not your fault the enemy's smarter and more talented--"

"No, I didn't mean--"

"Just being honest," the court jester said with matter-of-fact cruelty. She shrugged, her tone practical. "Now, I just need to find someone smarter and more talented than they are," she mused aloud, then considered another option, "Or I can just kill them."

Helena's mouth twisted into a furious sneer, eyes glittering with barely contained fury, the notion that this woman was threatening someone she loved triggering her anger in dangerous ways. Try it and she'd kick the witch's multi-colored ass. Her fighting skills might not be Batgirl stuff yet, but she really doubted some chick in a clown suit was going to be much of a threat. She seriously considered going after her, only to remember Dick's presence as she felt him move up next to her. He was still shaky---she could feel the faint tremors that slid through his muscles as he nudged up against her. Draw attention to them, and she was comfortably certain she could escape, but he wouldn't have much of a prayer.

"Either way, you're not much use to me anymore--" the court jester continued aloud.

"Wait," the man said, his tone panicked now. "Before my laptop cut out, I was backtracing the hacker--"

"And?" the woman's voice was sharp and impatient now, no longer that deadly soothing drawl that reminded Helena of the tales she'd read of the hypnotic stare of a cobra.

Her lackey was hopeful now, sensing just how close to the edge he was, and ready to do anything to get back on her good side. "After we discovered the intruder, the hacker was jerky for awhile, coming and going, then their responses slowed ... judging by the delays, I think they moved to a remote system ... probably linked to a server through a wireless modem of some kind."

"Meaning?" the woman was getting even more impatient now.

"I think they're near here ... maybe even communicating with our burglar ... the system detected some unusual transmissions in the nearby area, but nothing that could be locked down."

"Interesting," the woman drawled. "I appreciate your telling me."

Helena saw another flick of movement as the woman turned, then a dull crunch that reminded her all too much of the time when she was eight and had broken her wrist. That sound was followed by a soft gacking gasp, then a dull thud.

"Not enough to let you live, of course," the woman drawled, "but I do appreciate it."

Eyes wide, the girl eased forward just enough to peer over the edge of the bale, swallowing hard as she stared down at the scrawny figure lying sprawled on the floor some distance below, his eyes open and panicked, mouth working silently, his head at the wrong angle in relation to his neck and body. Their gazes met, and she saw him die while the court jester just kept on her way, apparently not caring. The teenager was still shaking, uncertain what to do when several men flooded in through the loading dock entrance. They were all armed, and judging by their bulky chests and the way they moved, several were wearing flak jackets.

A hard hand dug into the back of her jacket, pulling her back from the edge as Dick leaned over her and hissed near ear, his words intended for Helena and Barbara both. "We need to get out of here."

"Quickly," Barbara told both of them. "I didn't get a good look, but I'd guess there were at least twenty men in those trucks ... maybe more."

Helena registered the words, but her focus was on the court jester, watching her as she pulled away, tracking her progress. The girl pulled away from the grip on her jacket, shifting so she could see better. The jester was speaking to what appeared to be leader among the newly arrived men, a big, broad shouldered man all in black with a dark beard. He was carrying the sort of rifle Helena had seen soldiers carry in the movies, big and heavy with a wide clip.

"Okay," Dick exhaled, "We'll just--"

"Hang on," Helena said, and rolled, wrapping an arm around his waist as she hit her knees. They were in the deepest shadows, while the newcomers were standing in the brightly cast lights from the trucks. They wouldn't be able to see past that ring of light. At least not for the moment, but they didn't have long. "Time to fly," she added and dragged his arm across her shoulders and leapt. She heard Dick's sharp gasp as they were airborne, and took perverse pleasure in his shock. He'd seen her make the leap from the ground floor to the loft, knew she could do things no normal human could, but obviously, he had zero idea of the extent of her abilities. She landed on the edge of the catwalk and gripped the rail with her free hand, then swung a leg over, noting that Dick let go of his hold on her shoulders as fast as humanly possible in order to do a quick vault over the railing.

"Too many people that way," Dick whispered when he saw her looking toward the loading dock. He glanced back toward the ladder that led up to the ceiling. "We can go out that way. I...." He suddenly realized that Helena had pulled away and was jogging toward the loading dock. "Oracle, we're on the catwalks, but she's headed straight for the men who just arrived."

"Yeah, and that nearly got him killed," Helena answered, her tone distant, her entire concentration on the scene below as another man joined the jester and her flunky. Guy Falcone, she realized in an instant. She recognized him from his pictures in the paper and on TV and had the urge to leap down and rip his throat out, but she held back, needing to know what they were talking about. Instinct told her it was important. He gestured to the bearded man, who nodded and spoke into a radio as he waved to someone out of her range of vision. She glanced back, saw Dick following her, nowhere near as fast or sure footed, and poured on the speed, becoming a fast moving ghostly shadow until she was directly above the jester. She didn't care about the danger to herself, only finding out what was going on.

"He's close," the jester was saying, her voice high pitched and faintly manic, not insanity perhaps, but something very close to it. "I want him found ... brought to me." A tiny laugh escaped her lips, but she didn't turn, denying Helena a chance to see the face that went with that voice. "I want his secrets ... and then I want his head."

"We've got men searching the area. If your hacker's anywhere close, we'll find him," Falcone assured her confidently. "I told you this site is secure."

"I don't think I'd brag in your shoes," the jester jeered, "since so far, it's proven to be remarkably porous. But find the hacker ... or at least his head, and then we can discuss security."

Helena abruptly lost all color as she realized her instincts were right. They weren't just hunting for Dick now. They were after her guardian as well. "Barbara," she breathed, totally forgetting to stick with code names in her near panic, "get out of there ... get out of there now. They're looking for you." She glanced back, easily seeing the way Dick's expression shifted despite the darkness, and the way his gaze dropped to the jester and her cronies. Suddenly she didn't give a damn about anything beyond the need to keep a loved one safe ... whatever that took.

"She's right," he clipped without bothering to argue.

"We'll be okay." He grabbed Helena by the scruff, pulling her back and shoving her toward the ladder he planned on using to escape with the hissed command, "Move." Damned if he was going to let the kid get herself killed. If nothing else Barbara would never forgive him. Worse, he'd never forgive himself. "Now, get out of there and don't argue."

* * * * * *

Barbara was just about to argue when the play of headlight in her rear view mirror brought her head up. She'd had nearly free rein of the computer for several minutes and had been considering several ways she could help her comrades inside and lost track of her surroundings just a little. Bad move, she realized in an instant as she glimpsed silhouetted figures hopping out of the back of the truck, their weapons large and heavy looking. Somebody definitely wasn't interested in playing nice. They split into two groups, clearly intent on coming around on both sides and blocking her in. "I've got company ... moving out," she informed the other two as she turned the engine over and slammed the van into reverse, whipping the wheel hard as she gunned it. Still adjusting to the vagaries of driving with hand controls only, she accelerated too hard into the turn and skidded the van's wheels in a barely controlled 180 that toggled unsteadily and nearly rolled the vehicle. No time to wait to come out of the skid naturally, she accelerated and prayed it wouldn't roll. With a high center of gravity and lousy traction, the van had never been intended for this sort of use and it protested hard, but managed to stay upright. She saw weapons rising, and gunned the engine, running straight up the middle and forcing the men to dive out of the way to avoid getting run over. She whipped the wheel at the last moment to avoid the truck aimed her way. The driver's arm came out, a pistol aimed her direction as she passed him by and she dove down behind the dash even as heavy calibre bullets shattered the side and front windows and tore through the side panels.

"BARBARA!!" Helena's frightened scream rang in her ears along with Dick's softer, "Oracle??"

"I'm okay," she hissed as she shook shattered safety glass out of her hair. "Worry about yourselves ... get down to the ground, and I'll get to you." She could see the lights of the truck as it came around in pursuit. "Somehow...."

"We'll try," Dick responded, his breathing suddenly coming fast and furious, along with the sound of boots on steel. "But whatever happens, get yourself to safety."

* * * * * *

Dick didn't release his grip on Helena's collar as he broke into a run across the catwalk, dragging her along despite the way she fought him to get at the harlequin and her lackeys. That scream meant they'd been made big time and the mercenaries below were just trying to get a good shot.

"Get a light in here!" someone shouted. "He's up on the catwalks."

"Barbara," Helena exploded. Well past practical considerations like code names, she just wanted to stop any threat, "they're trying to kill her!" Maybe if she could just get down there, rip out Falcone's throat and wipe up the floor with his clown suited girlfriend, they'd back off.

"I know," Dick snarled, his voice softer and more controlled, but no less determined. "That's why we've got to get to her." On her own she didn't stand a chance against the kind of firepower they were looking at, especially if she got cornered.

"I'm all right," Barbara repeated, though she sounded breathless and scared, "just take care of yourselves." He heard a screech and squeal of tires against the background percussion of gunshots over the headset, the explosive hammering forming a stereophonic effect as he heard the shots for real less than a block away.

In an instant, Helena got what he was trying to tell her. Right now, they needed to get to Barbara before the team on her tail caught up with her.

"Now move," he ground out and shoved the girl toward the ladder, forcing her into a hard run even as a powerful spotlight was aimed ceilingward, hunting for them while gunfire suddenly stitched the air on all sides, shooting blind in hopes of hitting them. He thrust her in front of him, well aware that, while he had a layer of kevlar in the form fitting costume, she had no protection whatsoever.

"Called the cops," Barbara informed them breathlessly, the squall of tires punctuating the news.

"Good," Dick panted, pulling up short and yanking Helena back as several bullets tore through the catwalk grating just in front of them. He glanced back, noted the number of weapons aimed their way. They weren't going to make it if they didn't move. He felt the girl spin to peer around him. She instantly realized the same thing and her head tipped back on her shoulders as she peered upward. He caught a faint glimpse of a grin and looked up, following her gaze to the broken skylight. He was still grabbing for the grappling hook on his belt when he felt delicate hands dig into the front of his costume, then a hard tug upward that was almost as much fun as the last wedgie he'd gotten somewhere around junior high, with roughly the same effect. At some level, he was comfortably certain the girl hauling him skyward would have enjoyed that particular piece of knowledge. They shot straight up so fast it was less than a second before she kicked off on the ceiling widow frame into a second shorter leap, letting go of Dick just before she landed a few feet away and dropped into a half crouch. He caught sight of the glitter gold of those strange eyes and then the teenager was moving, sprinting toward the front edge of the building.

He was only a few feet behind her as they saw two pair of headlights swerving crazily through the twisting back entrance that led to the building across the way, the rear vehicle clearly chasing the lead and trying to cut off its escape route. And then suddenly lead pair of lights slewed sideways and skidded to a halt.

"Oracle, are you all right?" Dick demanded.

Helena didn't wait for a response, just leapt, almost seeming to fly as she bounded, then hit the ground and kept moving.

"Holy shit," Dick exhaled, then grabbed a grappling line off his belt, forced to find other, more humanly possible ways to the ground. "Oracle ... Oracle, are you okay?"

* * * * * *

"Been better," Barbara groaned and reached up to wipe at the stream of blood running down her face from the cut along the inner edge of her left eyebrow where she'd had the misfortune to meet her steering wheel in far too personal a manner. Crowded and forced to play chicken with the truck, she'd had to brake hard and whip the wheel to avoid going head first into the walls on either side of the entrance gates to the drive. The resulting skid and near-crash had left the van dented and her badly shaken. She glanced over, noting that only a couple of men had managed to get aboard with the truck when it took off after her, but they were well armed---M-16's or Armalites by the look of it---and big as oxen. Her engine had stalled out, but she got it going again just as one of them came up on the driver's side. With the window shot out, he grabbed for the doorframe, but she unlatched it and shoved it hard into her would-be attacker, slamming him back several paces. He came back at her almost instantly, reaching for the edge of the open door with a meaty hand. Grabbing a baton off the passenger's seat, she brought it around in an arc, hitting his forearm with every last ounce of strength and shattering bone in the doing. Caught up in that fight, she momentarily forgot the second man, and by the time she looked for him again it was because she became aware of a dancing, red pinlight playing over the van and then her face. Laser sight, she realized and started to dive down at the same instant she glimpsed his finger tightening on the trigger.

Except, instead of a crack of gunfire, the only sound was the clatter of a rifle hitting cement, followed by the dull thuds of fists striking flesh. She looked up again to see Helena, her expression intent, beating the hell out of the man who'd intended to shoot her. She glanced over, noting that the truck driver was bringing the vehicle around, apparently intending to run over both the girl and his colleague and backed the van up, blocking his way as she shouted out, "Huntress, get in!" and reached across the seat to shove the passenger door open. "NOW!" she bellowed when the girl didn't move. "MOVE IT!!" And then the teenager was flying, shoving things aside as she scrambled into the passenger's seat.

Somewhere in the distance, she heard the sound of sirens headed their direction. Not too much longer.

"Nightwing?"

"I'll meet you on the corner," he panted.

"Get the door for him when it's time," Barbara ordered Helena and gunned the engine, pulling around the truck trying to block their way in a wild maneuver, then racing hard.

Climbing into the back, Helena shoved the side panel door open as they pulled onto the street. "There he is," she told Barbara when she spotted a black garbed figure leaping over the high compound wall. He landed lightly, then raced their way, catching up as Barbara slowed for him. "Come on," the girl called out, helping to haul him in when he dove for the van. She shoved the door shut in his wake while he lay sprawled on the floor of the van.

"Hold on," Barbara ordered them both as she accelerated hard, desperate to lose their would-be pursuers as quickly as possible. It was going to be close.

* * * * * *

Hearing the distant sound of sirens, Harley Quinn's mouth twisted in an impatient smile that was all manic energy with no kindness behind it. "Blow it all," she said with considerable irritation. Her current flunky looked surprised.

"But, Ma'am, there are still men in there."

A smile twisted full lips. "Yes, I know." She looked at him and offered a beatific smile. "Would you like to join them?"

He lost all color. "I'll see to it, Ma'am," he quickly assured her, and hurried off to do as told.

Well, at least she'd made sure the place was wired, so it shouldn't take more than a couple of minutes. She was still standing there, musing on how beautiful the resulting explosion would be when Guy Falcone came stumbling out, his guards nowhere in evidence.

"What the hell happened?" the mobster demanded.

Harley peered up at him with a raised brow. "Mongolian Cluster Fuck," she answered simply.

He frowned. "Look, you stupid bitch--"

It was the wrong thing to say and she informed him of that fact by kneecapping him with a single, sharp kick. He went down hard and screaming obscenities. "Never call me stupid," she said with a manic smile. "Now, one question...." She crouched down, reaching inside his suit coat to draw the .9 millimeter Sig Sauer holstered under his left armpit, "did you follow my orders in funding the drug lab as requested?" When he didn't immediately answer, she pointed the weapon at his other knee, trigger finger tightening fractionally.

"Yes," he all but screamed, panicked now, "God, yes ... I did everything just like you said to ... paid off the researchers to develop what you wanted to spec ... it's all in the computer files just the way you wanted."

"Good boy," she exhaled and reached out to pat his hair lightly. "Apparently you do have one or two uses."

He saw the madness in her eyes and felt sweat start to trickle down the line of his spine, the agony in his broken kneecap suddenly all but forgotten. Looking death in the eye has a way of doing that to people, particularly cowards.

She raised the gun, taking aim on his chest. "Unfortunately for you, one or two just isn't enough."

Panicked, he held up a hand. "Wait. I know things ... some of the Joker's secrets ... things he found out after you left before."

"Really?" she murmured, tempted by that bit of news. "Mister J sent me away before," she complained, "off to expand his operations into Metropolis, then got himself caught while I was away." Her mouth twisted into a pouting sneer. "Never did get to find out why he did some things." She was his right hand girl. Being left out of the loop really, really annoyed her. Her lips pursed unhappily, a hint of a frown touching her forehead. She didn't like being annoyed. Definitely needed something to let off a little stress.

Falcone nodded. "I know things ... lots of things. Like why he shot that girl that night."

Blonde brows drew together in a frown behind cake white makeup, while full lips pursed. "Police commissioner's daughter," Harley Quinn pronounced impatiently. "Everybody knows that," she dismissed and fired, point blank, before he could say any more. She leaned down, studying the hole in his forehead, surprised to find it so neat. Usually they were messier at that range. A frown twisted her expression as she found herself wondering if perhaps she'd acted a bit prematurely. Okay, so she felt better now. Nothing like a good head shot for letting off stress, but still, he might have known something of value. "Should I have let you say more?" she mused out loud as she studied him. "No, I don't think so. What could you really know, after all?" She was still standing up and dusting her hands off when her senior flunky appeared, breathing hard and nervous.

"It's all set, but we've gotta get out of here cos those explosives you set may take most of this block."

Harley smiled. Now that sounded like a lovely sight.

* * * * * *

Having spent far too many hours prowling the industrial district as Batgirl, Barbara, knew almost every nook and cranny and it was all committed to that perfect memory which gave them their only real advantage over their pursuers. She used that knowledge, ducking down narrow streets, using the cover offered by the surroundings buildings, anything to gain every inch possible so that they lost her a little more around a each turn, until finally, she killed the lights, still driving wildly, a black shadow in the night. Helena was in the front passenger seat while Dick was kneeling between the seats just behind them.

She was finally confident that they'd finally lost their pursuers when a hard explosion rocked the earth behind them, throwing smoke and flames hundreds of feet into the air.

All three looked back, eyes wide, reflecting the fires of hell.

"I'm guessing the police won't find much in the way of evidence," Dick sighed, then flopped down on the floor of the van. "Well, this went well," he muttered unhappily and folded an arm over his eyes.

"It wasn't our best moment," Barbara sighed, then offered a wan smile to the teenager in the neighboring seat before flicking the van's lights back on. As she pulled up to a stoplight, she reached up, wiping at the blood still trickling from the cut on her brow, and was surprised when a gentle hand reached out, mopping up the worst of it with a handkerchief. She winced gently as Helena daubed at the injured area itself---which was nearly as bruised as it was cut. "By ours, I mean mine and Dick's," she pointed out, her tone ironic, though the smile she turned on Helena was enough to make the girl's heart soar. "You, on the other hand, did really well."

The girl grinned, suddenly not minding the fact that she'd just saved the life of her competition. "Just helping out," she demurred, thinking that she'd do almost anything to have that look directed her way.

Barbara reached out, ruffling her hair gently. "Well, from here on out, let's see if we can make sure that's not a necessity." She glanced back at Dick where he lay sprawled in the back next to her wheelchair. Sensing her gaze, he looked up and their eyes met, her irritation and disapproval almost palpable.

"I should've listened to you," he sighed and folded his arm over his face, none too thrilled to find he probably owed his life to a seventeen year old girl that he couldn't stand and who hated him, while the woman he loved was looking at him like a prime grade-A screwup.

"Yeah, well, this whole thing was a nice idea," she muttered as she turned to face front again, "but I think it loses something in translation." It had been a fun fantasy, but it seemed obvious the idea was doomed to failure. Dick never had followed orders worth a damn, and even with the Delphi she couldn't do enough during a live mission to watch his back. He was better off knowing he was on his own. It made him more careful. Like it or not, she wasn't Batgirl anymore, and if something went wrong, there wasn't a hell of a lot she could do to help from a wheelchair. She shook her head, throwing off the thick wave of depression that thought threatened to engender, attention returning to the road as she swung onto an onramp, opting to lose herself in the steadily moving freeway traffic, figuring they could ditch any remaining pursuers in the flow of cars.

"We just need to work on our timing a little," Dick disagreed. "I got too ambitious ... but the idea's workable--"

"We'll talk about it later," Barbara interrupted, not in the mood for a bout of Dick's version of charming her into a dumb idea. She'd already fallen for that spiel once. Not again. Helping her old friend get himself killed was not on her list of things to do today.

He sighed softly and flopped back down, but not before he caught a glimpse of the smirk Helena threw his direction. It was, he sensed instinctively, the beginning of the end. Not that Barbara would throw him out that night, but the easy synergy they'd once possessed was gone now, and something told him it wouldn't be coming back. He was still the same, but she'd changed and the old energy was a thing of the past. She still had the drive and the instinct to do right, but it wouldn't happen with him by her side.

That night, he slept in her bed, smiling at the attention as she kissed his bumps and bruises, then sleeping deeply enough that he didn't feel her slip from bed and leave.

* * * * * *

Barbara was unsurprised to find Helena's bed empty after she finished checking on the Delphi's monitoring system. Uncertain whether to consider the news she'd found good or bad, she was just feeling restless, so she was oddly relieved to find the girl on the lookout, sitting on a gargoyle's head, arms wrapped tightly around her upthrust knees. "Hey there," she whispered just loud enough to catch Helena's attention, offering a tired smile as blue eyes swung her way.

"Surprised to see you up," the teenager murmured, a blush touching her cheeks as she turned to stare out at the city again.

Barbara shrugged. "Couldn't sleep," she admitted, "and I was checking on the situation we left ... using the Delphi to raid the police scanners...."

"News?" Helena whispered, sensing there was more to it.

"Falcone's dead," Barbara said softly. "The fire's still burning but they found his body near the edge of the explosion. Single bullet to the head. The rest of the place is a total loss."

Helena looked over and tried not to smile. She knew that probably wouldn't go over well.

Barbara didn't miss the glint in the girl's eyes and sighed softly, rolling her chair forward until her knees were nudged up against the edge of the low wall around the lookout. "I wish I could be so sure it's good news," she exhaled as she stared thoughtfully at the surrounding city lights. "Slimy as Falcone was, I don't think he was the mastermind."

"The court jester," Helena whispered.

"A harlequin actually," Barbara whispered. "I've seen her once before ... working for the Joker." She frowned thoughtfully. "High up in the organization by the look of it." She ruffled her hair, scraping it back from her brow, then settled back in the chair, her gaze unfocused as she stared out at the lights of the city, lost in her own thoughts.

"So, what are you gonna do about it?" Helena asked quietly, unwilling to be locked out or have a wall go up between them.

Barbara looked over, her expression wryly depressed. "I think tonight proves pretty conclusively that I'm out of the biz," she muttered unhappily, finally accepting that any thoughts she'd had of keeping even a toe in her old life were foolish at best. Absolutely nothing had gone right, and she had no intention of helping put people she cared for in that kind of danger again. She might be able to dig up a little info for Dick now and then, but that was obviously going to be the limit of her participation.

Helena shook her head. "You'll never be out of it," she whispered, a little frightened by the sudden burst of insight. Barbara might intend to walk away, but she couldn't. She was a junkie and there wasn't a twelve step program in the world effective enough to get that monkey off her back.

The calling as Bruce had called it. Barbara shook her head, her gaze distant, wondering if maybe it was the time to run like hell. Leave Gotham and go somewhere quiet. It might be the best thing for both of them. She glanced over at the girl---no, young woman---she'd become responsible for, a little scared by the way blue eyes stared right through her, so intense she often feared they saw every secret she'd ever had, even the ones she didn't know about. "You're wrong," she said very softly, but her voice lacked conviction. "I screwed up tonight ... could've gotten Dick killed ... hell, could've gotten you killed." She shook her head and made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat. "I had no business letting Dick talk me into that madness ... and I certainly had no business letting you get involved. God, I should be taken out and shot for that alone."

"I didn't exactly give you a choice," Helena pointed out. "And we both knew the risks." She slid off the gargoyle, dropping lightly to her feet, then reached out, curving slender fingers to the arm of the wheelchair, urging Barbara to turn her way as she dropped to her knees to stare up at her guardian. "You can do things with a computer that no one else can. You've only had a few days and you cracked their system when no one else could--"

"It went wrong," Barbara hissed, tempted beyond measure but also aware of the dangers. "Damn near got you two killed." A muscle twitched along the line of her jaw as she ground her teeth together. "Did get Falcone ... and probably others killed." She knew that news wouldn't depress Helena, but it wasn't their place to act as judge and executioner and the thought that people had died because she'd helped set events in motion sat heavily on her shoulders whether she wanted to accept the weight or not. At the same time, there was a part of her that knew that there were things she could do with computers that no one else could, and already her mind was running with plans, tweaks, ways of getting information that could be used against people who would misuse power.

Staring up at Barbara, Helena was a little startled by how easy it was to see the need in her. Locking that part of her away would eventually destroy her soul more thoroughly than being relegated to a wheelchair ever could. "Yeah," she agreed, "but from what you've said, your first appearance as Batgirl wasn't exactly a triumph...."

"No ... it wasn't," Barbara admitted, a faint twist of a smile touching her lips. Looking back, it was a wonder Bruce hadn't turned her over his knee and delivered a much deserved spanking. "But it's not the same thing," she added to ward off the temptation. She hadn't understood the consequences then. She did now.

"It's exactly the same," Helena disagreed. "This was your first time trying something like this ... mistakes were predictable ... and you both bit off more than you could chew." The teenager's tone was quietly practical. She peered up at Barbara with a lopsided smile. "You won't make that mistake again." They were both silent for a long moment as she just peered up at the older woman, silently challenging her to look at the truth.

"I don't know..." Barbara muttered at last. The notion of getting completely out of the game made her feel like she was right back in that invisible, shrinking cage ... but worse, it made her feel completely useless, something she'd never been able to stomach in the least. "Maybe I could give information to the police," she said, thinking out loud. That wouldn't involve putting anyone in danger. "Guide things ... investigate where they can't...."

"That's right," Helena said, a hint of a smile curving her lips as she saw the light re-enter green eyes, but then Barbara pulled back emotionally, scared again.

"I don't know though.... Maybe it's not such a good idea." She shook her head, looking away, the temptation coiling tight in her stomach, but twined with a cold, sick kind of terror. "Maybe I've lost the edge."

"Bull," Helena whispered and reached up, stroking Barbara's cheek lightly, drawing her eyes back until their gazes met. "Your edge was just fine. It was something completely new, so some things were a little ... disorganized. But you handled yourself fine ... we're all okay." She smiled easily, remembering the way Barbara had dealt with the physical end of things. "And ... well ... there was the slight problem of Nightwing not following orders."

"You weren't so good at that either," Barbara pointed out practically from what I hear.

"What ... me?" Helena said, sounding offended, though a grin teased her lips. "I'll have you know that I--"

"Didn't run away when told," Barbara broke in. "Didn't wear the mask." Her brows arched in an ironic expression. "In short, you were immensely luckier than Dick, but didn't actually follow orders any better."

Seeing that being charming wasn't going to make a successful end run around the older woman, Helena drew a deep breath and released it again. "No," she admitted after a beat, "I didn't." She shrugged and went back to the lopsided grin that had always been so successful at beguiling adults. It fell away when Barbara continued to peer seriously at her until she deflated ever so slightly. "They were trying to kill you," she said at last and shook her head. "I couldn't let that happen." She looked down at her hands where there rested on her thighs, noting the way they curled into fists despite her best efforts to keep them relaxed and open. "I could have killed Falcone," she said very softly, answering the unasked question, "thought about it ... but then I realized you were in danger ... and that was the only thing that mattered." She looked up. Much as she wanted revenge, she couldn't risk what little she had left. "I couldn't lose you," she said haltingly, then looked down again, agonizingly embarrassed by the intensity of her own emotions. Gentle fingers slid through her hair, ruffling lightly, the gesture affectionate, and she leaned into the warmth of the tender contact, eyes sliding closed, her breathing slowing as some of the leftover terror fled.

"I'm not going anywhere," Barbara assured her, her voice low and soothing.

Helena leaned more deeply into the slow caresses running through her hair, soothed by the warmth and reassurance. "Promise me," she whispered, and felt a faint flicker of tension in the fingers sliding through her hair. She looked up, eyes wide and a little frightened. "Promise me," she said again, a pleading note entering her tone.

"I promise," Barbara assured her, then continued petting gently when Helena heaved a sigh of relief and leaned back into the slow caresses. "Is this about Dick and I?" she asked carefully, well aware of the way Helena tensed.

"A little," Helena admitted, then added, "but it's also about how much I value your life ... and it scares me sometimes because I'm not sure you do." She looked up, her eyes clear and a little glossy with the threat of tears. "I need you ... and I need you to know that."

Startled by the near desperation in blue eyes, Barbara was momentarily frozen, the memories of the times she'd contemplated the ultimate solution to her problems running through her head. "Helena, I..." she began to speak, uncertain what she intended to say, unable to lie in the face of the look directed her way.

"You were ready to throw away your life going after Dick without any kind of plan..." Helena said softly, her eyes scared. She'd been sitting up there thinking about it, afraid of what it meant. "They'd have killed you, and you didn't seem to care."

"No, I--"

"Yes," Helena cut her off, anger lancing the fear. "You were ready to throw your life away ... and I need you." She reached up again, stroking Barbara's cheek lightly. "You said we're family before." She trailed her hand down, twining her fingers with Barbara's and holding on tight. "Family has to stick together."

Barbara squeezed back, struck by the fear she saw in blue-violet eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered as it occurred to her just how badly she must have scared the girl. Caught in her own fears and frustration, she'd forgotten that she really was all that Helena had left. "I didn't think."

Relieved to see understanding enter green eyes, Helena offered a smile. "Well, don't let it happen again," she teased lightly.

"I promise ... I won't," Barbara assured her.

"No more raids with Dick?" Helena whispered, needing to be certain. Whatever games Barbara played, it couldn't be that one. It was just too dangerous.

"No more," Barbara promised. "Whatever I do, I'll make sure to play it safe." At least for now.

Suddenly exhausted beyond measure, Helena leaned forward, resting her cheek against Barbara's knees, hands clinging loosely to the sides of the chair, very nearly purring as gentle fingers returned to her hair, rhythmically slipping through the silky strands.

That was how Dick found them when he roused enough to become aware of the empty bed. He stood in the doorway for a long time, unnoticed, simply watching the tender scene. Finally, he just turned and went back to bed without drawing their attention. He knew it wasn't the bravest choice he could make, but it was the only one he had the stomach for at that point. The end would come, but he wasn't up to facing it any sooner than he had to.

* * * * * *

The end to Barbara's affair with Dick came two months, sixteen days, and approximately thirteen hours after that mad dash to escape Falcone's men (Helena was out during the actual event and so never could track the exact time). It was more of a whimper than a bang thing, though judging by the tension of both participants when Helena accidentally stumbled into the scene, there must have been some bang-like qualities. His overprotectiveness and her stubbornness were both mentioned in the minutes before the two participants noted Helena's presence, and Helena tried not to enjoy it too much when Barbara tearfully said, "We really should have just stayed friends."

He sighed softly at that point and shook his head. "Don't ask me to regret what happened."

Totally involved in the scene before her, Helena stumbled over some piece of equipment Barbara had left lying around. She tried to catch it even as they both turned hard looks her way. Helena backed up a step, uncertain how to respond to the accidental discovery, her eyes wide as she noted the gym bag slung over his shoulder, bulging with all the stuff he'd left at the apartment during the preceding months, including his Sega. This was serious. "I ... uh ... didn't...." She had enough tact and good sense ... and enough human emotion---at least where Barbara was concerned---to feel for them ... and also to want to be anywhere but in the middle Dick's exit. Besides she was comfortably certain the happy-happy-joy-joy dance wouldn't go over so well. "Sorry ... I'll just ... go." She hooked a thumb over her shoulder to indicate her bedroom on the second floor, then did a quick vault to get there and quickly slammed the door.

Once Helena was through, she spun back and plastered her ear in an effort to hear anything she could, which wasn't much. Still, it was enough for her to be certain that the I-love-you-so-much-I-want-to-pack-you-away-in-cotton routine had not gone over well, nor had the I-can-do-everything-for-myself act. She gritted her teeth a bit when the whole, I'll-always-love-you part of the breakup speech came into play, then smiled again when it morphed into a we're-good-friends-but-lousy-lovers refrain before sliding into a unique bit of, I-was-thinking-of-leaving-town-for-grad-school-anyway. Which was fine by her. The farther Dick Grayson was from all of them, the better as far as she was concerned. Probably a churlish attitude---as she would have cheerfully admitted if anyone asked---but he didn't belong there, was all wrong for Barbara, and she was just as glad to see him go.

And by eight o'clock that night he was---gone that is. And maybe all wasn't right with the world, but it was at least a better place as far as Helena was concerned. She raided the refrigerator, one eyebrow rising high as it occurred to her that she was going to miss at least one thing about the Boy Blunder; the groceries. Barbara hated grocery shopping and, worse, on the rare occasion she condescended to such mundane matters, tended mostly toward foods generally defined as healthy. Dick, on the other hand, ate like the college boy he was, and tended to keep the cupboards well stocked with sugar packed soft drinks, Pop Tarts, cheese curls, Hostess cupcakes, and a host of other wonderfully disgusting things. Oh well, she decided as she grabbed a coke and a double pack of cupcakes, gulping better than half of the first one down with obscene speed, she was willing to suffer through the hunger if need be.

Nobody at the computer when she finally wandered out of the kitchen. That was unusual enough to draw a look of curiosity---Barbara had taken to monitoring it nearly constantly, honing her skills and protecting the city a new way. It wasn't perfect as systems went, sometimes there was no way for the law to use the evidence she secretly sent them, the police didn't always respond quickly to dangerous situations she spotted, and she couldn't always find ways to see where she needed to, but overall, she'd done some amazing work. An affectionate smile on her face, the girl wandered onto the balcony overlook, unsurprised to find Barbara there, just staring at the city.

She plopped down cross legged on the wall around the overlook, coke in one hand, half a cupcake in the other, the remaining one on the wall in front of her. Barbara flashed a faintly disbelieving look her way over the mix of sweets and soda and Helena just grinned. "You okay?" she asked after she'd gulped down enough coke to wash away the chocolate taste in her mouth.

Barbara just stared at Helena for a moment, faintly queasy over her choice of foods. "Fine," she murmured.

"Don't sound so great," Helena said around another large bite cupcake as she finished off the first one preparatory to tearing into the second.

The redhead peered at her ward, watching as she chased the cupcake with another swallow of soda. "Yeah, but that's mostly your eating habits," she explained with a small, faintly hesitant gesture toward the foodstuffs in question.

The girl grinned. "Not a healthy calorie anywhere in sight," she agreed cheerfully, then studied the older woman more carefully. "Seriously, how are you doing?" She might not have been all that fond of Dick, but obviously Barbara had been---Helena pointedly ignored the twine of jealousy in the pit of her stomach in favor of offering any comfort possible. She'd gotten good at ignoring the jealousy. It was the only way she'd avoided completely alienating the woman she loved. If Barbara knew the real depth of her feelings---not just the teen angst, but the soul deep agony---she'd have felt the need to do something about it, undoubtedly with the idea of doing away with what she would view as nothing more than a youthful crush. Helena had no intention of allowing that to happen. It was better to simply keep her emotions under cover until there was a chance she might be taken seriously.

A soft sigh was the only initial reply. "I suppose I should be upset," she said at last.

Helena shrugged. Not as far as she was concerned. Of course, recommending the happy dance wasn't likely to be a big hit either, so she just offered the most sympathetic look she could summon and quietly disagreed, "Not if that's not how you feel."

Barbara shook her head slowly, feeling vaguely lost and more than a little confused. The whole thing with Dick had been one giant lesson in confusion; sometimes intensely comforting, the reality of having someone to hold her when the nights started closing in tremendously soothing, but at the same time it had often been entirely too stressful, leaving her with a sense of being shut in, shut out, and failing that did nothing for her confidence or ego. "It's hard to explain," she sighed at last, talking more to herself than Helena, "I'm sorry it went bad ... but it just ... it made some things a lot harder ... and I...." She abruptly trailed off, turning to peer at Helena as it occurred to her that she really shouldn't be dumping her personal problems in the teenager's lap. "And I probably shouldn't be discussing this with you," she muttered. Sometimes she tended to forget that Helena was her responsibility, and not just another friend---scratch that---her only friend these days.

"Hey," the girl yelped as though stung. "Who else are you going to discuss it with? Your father? Oh yeah, that'd be rich." She shook her head over the notion of Barbara discussing anything so personal with her very straight-laced police commissioner father. That was just scary.

"I just meant ... I shouldn't be dumping things on you," Barbara explained with a small wave of one hand, though a grin snuck through at the suggestion she talk to her father. No, that wouldn't be happening. She was comfortably certain her dad still thought she was a virgin, and she was in no hurry to disabuse him of the idea.

"Dump away," Helena disagreed and leaned back on her elbows to stare at the night sky. "Rumor has it I'm kinda strong. I think I can handle it."

It was tempting. Maybe too tempting, Barbara decided as she shook off the urge to do entirely too much talking. Discussing her most personal and intimate problems and fears with the seventeen year old was so inappropriate it wasn't even funny. She already let Helena shoulder too much responsibility. Time to act like the adult she was rumored to be. "I appreciate it ... but I really don'