It had barely been a day since the brutal attack at Mawk's party and Kimber's life had already drastically changed. Whether it was for better or worse had yet to be seen.

As she exited Mawk's hospital room, she let out a sigh of relief. He would be alright. The knife hadn't knicked anything that couldn't be fixed with surgery, rest, and time. The doctors estimated that he would be fine just in time for graduation. But for the next few weeks, he would be in and out of school. She bit her lip, disappointed that she hadn't been there for her friend in his time of need.

"You alright?" Curtis walked up to her, concerned. He, too, had been in the hospital room visiting Mawk. Most of the teens who'd attended the nightmare of a party had visited their unfortunate host at some point over the last day, though Curtis was the only other one who came back.

Kimber turned his way but kept her burning red eyes fixed on the wall. Mawk hadn't been the only one she had failed. She had also failed Curtis. She invited the kid to Mawk's party just for him to get beaten to a pulp by a maniac. "Y–yeah," she stammered. "I'll be fine." With the back of her hand, she wiped her eyes and heaved a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Curtis sounded surprised.

Kimber met his eyes. His face was still covered with healing cuts and fading bruises, and she knew from experience that his chest and back likely looked even worse. Despite his injuries, he had refused medical attention that night and insisted he was fine. But Kimber knew the real reason. "I'm sorry for inviting you to a party just to get your ass kicked," she replied half-jokingly hoping some levity would lift the oppressive atmosphere of the sterile hospital hallway.

Curtis chuckled and his pearly whites peeked from between his bruised lips. "If I remember correctly, I scored a few hits, too." He sparred against the air with surprisingly snappy punches. "I'm not just your average ordinary guy, not a care in the world."

Kimber giggled and felt her anxiety melt away slightly. She sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her sleeve as she watched him playfully pummel the air.

"I'm a fighter, a stone-cold fighter." Curtis gave his imaginary target three final jabs and then followed with an uppercut, just for good measure, before turning back to Kimber with arms wide in display. "See?"

She rolled her eyes and let out a breath of faux exasperation. "Alright, alright." Kimber had to agree: he wasn't dead so he must have done something right in that fight. "Calm down, Tiger." Her smile slowly fell as the brief moment of humor faded and reality crept back in. "So, what are your plans for what's left of break?" She felt something inside her chest tugging her in his direction. She slipped her hands into the back pockets of her jeans and anchored herself in place.

Curtis shrugged and looked away. "Sleep mostly. Dad says I need the rest, and he's been in his own share of scraps when in the pen. So who am I to argue with him, right?"

Kimber nodded but said nothing, instead, she watched him carefully. Now he was the one avoiding eye contact and this afforded her a rather decent look at a nasty bruise on his neck that likely branched further across his shoulder. Her eyes traced the bruise from where it was hidden by the neckline of his shirt up his neck to his jaw. The kid needed an ice pack, or something. He looked back at her and for a brief moment, their eyes locked.

"What?" Curtis slightly tilted his head to one side and gave her a probing, curious look.

Before she knew what she was doing, Kimber closed the distance between them and embraced him. As her hands settled on his back, she felt for a moment like she was embracing the sturdy physique of an athlete, not the expected lankiness of a prolific coder. Her muscles, which had been so tense for the last 48 hours, loosened up as she allowed him to support her weight. And in that moment, she felt an invisible burden lightened on her shoulders; not like it had been removed but like someone else was helping her carry it. She buried her face in his shirt and, for the first time since she'd stepped into the hospital that day, she took a deep breath. He smelled nice and she held that scent with her breath for a second or two before she exhaled.

Caught by surprise, it took Curtis a few seconds before he reciprocated. Tentative hands wrapped around her lightly and he leaned slightly to put his chin on her shoulder. "What's this for?" he whispered into her ear.

His voice was pleasant and she couldn't help but melt into him. Stupid emotions. "For standing up to that asshole for me..." Her voice was quiet and vulnerable. She hated it, but she couldn't manage a strong voice right now. There was too much pain. She could only hope he would understand and forget the interaction within a few days.

"Aw, shucks." Curtis squeezed her tighter despite his injuries. "It was nothing, Kim. That's what friends are for, right? Defending each other from insane, murderous cult leaders."

Gently, she started to sway in his arms to an unheard melody and found it hard to let go, but Curtis' pocket vibrated, shattering the stillness of the moment. They parted and he checked the notification on his watch. He sucked his teeth and an anxious look creased his face. "Shoot, I gotta go." He exchanged goodbyes with Kimber, then walked toward the exit.

Kimber watched the boy leave the lobby and couldn't help but notice his slight limp. He hid it well, but she was getting better at catching such things. Her mouth twisted to the side. Curtis had denied medical attention at night to save money. His father had been released the previous May from prison. He'd been incarcerated for organizing a protest against the Justice Lords early in their reign and had been locked up for life. Curtis' mother had passed away two months after his father had come home. It had been a hard year for Curtis Walker and needless to say money was tight. She balled up her fists in self-loathing. This would have been so different if I hadn't frozen.

At the door, Curtis stopped and cast a look over his shoulder, waved, and then disappeared into the night.

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Batman sat in the cockpit of the Batmobile alone. He clenched and unclenched the utilitarian steering wheel as he sat in the driver's seat of his supercar as it idled on the driveway leading out of the BatCave. As he wrapped his gloved fingers around the steering wheel again, he thought back to the decision he'd made that night. He still wasn't sure on Earth what possessed him to reveal his secret identity to the girl, but now he had to deal with it. He looked over at the row of displayed uniforms with flared nostrils and then drove off.

One hour later, he was standing at the foot of a closed grocery store getting ready to do what he hadn't done in a very long time: patrol. Even now in uniform and within the city, he wasn't sure if he could bring himself to do it. The way he had attacked that weekend night was so fast, so quick, that the police hadn't even seen him. Though there were a few witnesses inside the house, most of them would be getting so much counseling that they would probably repress the memory for years to come.

He had also floated through a few bars and popular hang-outs for the sleaze of Gotham as the bumbling Matches Malone the days after. Most didn't think Batman had returned while others even thought that he had died or quit after the Justice Lords disbanded. Despite this prevailing sentiment, a rumor was growing amid the underground. Between Kimber's nocturnal activities over the last few months and the strange events at the Machaelson abode, the more superstitious of Gotham's underbelly stoked suspicion that even if the Bat was dead, something was happening.

He decided against using the Batmobile as transportation inside the city limits and instead opted for traveling the old-fashioned way: on foot. He didn't want to draw attention to his return to the night. The more he surprised the scum that preyed on the good citizens of Gotham, the better. His signature car stayed parked and guarded in a supposedly defunct service station garage on the edge of Crest Hill and he went the rest of the way on foot.

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"...You really expect me to believe that you ran outside when the lights cut out because you were scared?"

Kimber nodded but could tell that Mawk was having a hard time buying her tale. But what was she supposed to say? That she'd caught up with Batman in the wooded area behind his home and accompanied the Dark Knight to the Batmobile where he'd given her a communicator? This wasn't the time for honesty. Maybe one day. "Mawk, you have to understand, I was terrified! I thought I was going to die. I thought that we were all going to die. That smoke..."

"Kimmie, your dad was screaming your name at the top of his lungs! He had police combing the woods behind my home for over thirty minutes! How did you not—"

Her pocket vibrated in a specific pattern and she had to fight off a smile. "Hey, Mawk." Kimber reached her hand out and took the boy's hand in hers. "I've got to take off, okay?"

Mawk weakly sighed and resigned to accept her story. "Alright." He rested his head back on his pillow. "Are you going to be here tomorrow?"

"I've visited every day since you've been here!" Kimber was surprised he would ask. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Aside from Jerome, a few guys from the team, and that Curt kid, you're the only one from school that's checked up on me over the last few days. But winter break's almost over, Kimber. I thought maybe you'd be getting ready for classes." He closed his eyes. " I thought you'd forget about me."

In the new quiet, Kimber's anxiousness slowly dissipated and she found herself intensely aware of her surroundings. The ambient sounds of the hospital floated in the air. The steady, rhythmic beeping of various monitors and machines. The frantic pinging of someone a few doors down the hall paging a nurse. The voice over the intercom droning on for Doctor So-and-so to report to Room Such-and-such. The distant pitter-patter of covered footwear descending the linoleum hallway. Altogether, it was an eerie calm after a stormy week. After drinking in the moment, she headed for the door. "I'll see you tomorrow, Mawk."

She got halfway before Mawk spoke again, eyes still closed. "I didn't mean to undermine your experience, Kimmie," he murmured with a apologetic tone. "It's just... I couldn't imagine you getting that scared, is all. You're strong, y'know – one of the strongest people I know."

Kimber swallowed a lump in her throat and paused. She looked over her shoulder at Mawk. The boy lay with his eyes closed on the bed and looked almost subdued by his situation. Speaking of strong, he'd always been strong: an indomitable hunk of muscle that dominated Gotham High's campus. Now he lay bedridden in a hospital, one of a few recovering from the vicious attack at his home. And it was her fault. A tear threatened to make a break for it down her cheek. She preemptively wiped it away before speaking. "Mawk... Can I tell you something?"

"Shoot." He kept his eyes closed but nodded.

"These past few days have been a real eye-opener." She started slowly, still figuring out just what was going on in her head. "There've already been a load of changes in my life – and it's not even graduation yet. I've come to realize how precious certain people are to me and... Well..." She caught her breath and then proceeded from a new direction. "Remember when you first asked me out?"

Mawk laughed. It wasn't as boisterous as it usually was. "Yeah, I do." He looked to the ceiling with a wince as the pain in his gut settled.

"Everyone kept saying how great of a couple we'd make. It felt like it was something we had to do, so we just did it." As Kimber replayed her memories of Sophomore year, she felt a smile pull the corner of her mouth. "I still remember when you told me I was cute but not really your type." At the time she had been crushed, but through it came a wonderful friendship. "We've faked our dates more times than I care to count. We used each other as excuses to miss events, leave parties... And we used many of our dates just to study. "

"I know," Mawk replied in a humorous tone. However, the mirth in his voice belied a melancholy. To Kimber, it sounded like Mawk himself had regrets. "Hey, remember when Jodie DuPree outed that you'd spent the weekend at my place?"

Kimber nodded with a restrained smile. During the time of the Justice Lords, most phones could be tracked by authorities should the need arise. Somehow, Jodie gained access to the phone tracking service, likely through her father's incompetence, and the nosy girl had taken a screenshot of Mawk and Kimber's location: Mawk's home. Gossip spread like wildfire and the week after was rough: high-fives for Mawk and sideways glances for Kimber. In reality, she'd spent the weekend tutoring him in Chemistry while her father was away on a trucking job for Wayne Enterprises and she needed a place to stay. But Kimber couldn't bring herself to reveal that and embarrass Mawk – even after the rumor mill solidified on a narrative.

"She was such a bitch..." Mawk casually dismissed Jodie. "Looking back, I wish I'd said something, y'know? Set the record straight and all that..." He sniffed and wiped his nose. "But the rumors were always more entertaining than the reality," he admitted in defeat.

Kimber studied Mawk's face. His wistful grin revealed he remembered it as more of a social curiosity than a social conflict. To his credit, Mawk did quash any rumor that tugged his ear. Rude jokes were oft met with a swift rebuke from the football star that was just as crass and twice as funny. He even split the lip of one kid who made a crass remark about being next in line. It was one of the rare times that Mawk actually got physical. She unconsciously smiled at the memory of Darren scrabbling to get away. Despite the shitty situation, Mawk had been there for her, just like always. And she hadn't.

She approached the side of Mawk's bed, ignoring the phone vibrating in her pocket. "You were good to me, Mawk. You were like a rock for me to latch on to, and with everything that's happened – everything that will happen – I realize just how much I need that..." Her voice trailed off.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

Mawk looked over at her with a slight frown. He seemed confused and perhaps even a bit worried. "What are you trying to say?" Mawk's voice was quiet.

"I don't think I have anything left to say. Just something I have to do." She leaned over and kissed him.

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The streets of Gotham were not how he remembered them. Crime was at a lull in the wake of Mr. Death's supposed 'supernatural' silencing – even in a post-Justice Lords Gotham. "It could be another week before the underbelly decides to show its full face again," Batman growled into the night air. Despite most disbelieving the Bat's return, word on the street moved fast and crooks and criminals were too spooked to come out. A superstitious and cowardly lot, indeed.

He was crouched between two gargoyles and looked like one himself. His knees jutted out at sharp, distinct angles and his head protruded from the center of his strong and broad shoulders with ears reaching into the sky. His brooding posture fit in perfectly with the hunched gothic carvings at his sides. Even his scowl matched the ghoulish features of his stony companions. His cape fluttered slightly in a chilling breeze. He took another controlled breath and relished the moment. It felt just like the old days.

It hadn't taken him long to get from the city limits to its heart on foot, and even less time to get to the apex of the Clocktower. The weekend may have been his first night out of the 'Cave with his uniform on, but tonight was the night of his return. However, he hadn't expected such a slow night. Police scanners were nearly silent and he had been on top of the tower for over an hour. It was almost anticlimactic. Aside from the periodic alternating of his location for differing vantage points, he hadn't moved. Suddenly, a figure caught his keen eye. About time.

With all his pent-up energy, he shot off of his perch. His cape unfurled and caught the created draft. Like a wraith haunting the Christmas sky, he silently glided toward the roof his target stood on. Oh, how he had missed the feeling of the wind biting at his cheeks, the city rapidly approaching like a gray and brown blur, the control he exerted over the very forces of nature as he fell, the adrenaline coursing through his veins. As much as he hated to admit it, he'd missed it all; no amount of training could ever compare to this. He stalked up behind the figure. "You're late."

Spooked, the figure turned suddenly with a squeak, but when she saw it was the Dark Knight, she put a hand over her chest and released her held breath. "Shit..." Batgirl chuckled nervously. "Scared the crap out of me."

"Get used to it," was all he replied.

"Sorry, I was... Held up at the hospital." She looked away from Batman's harsh gaze. "Had something to clear up." Then she looked beyond his shoulder to the Clocktower looming in the distance. "It's half-past nine, though... You told me that we wouldn't start patrolling until ten-thirty! This is early by your own standards! What gives?"

Batman narrowed his eyes. "Tonight's different." Batgirl had to remind herself that looks couldn't kill.

Or can they? she asked herself as it felt as if something shriveled within her. She coughed to break the tension before speaking again. "I know the radio waves haven't been too gracious to us vigilantes in recent nights, but I noticed a group toting around bats and a crowbar a few blocks over." She pointed to some young people now holed up in an alleyway. "They seemed to be avoiding the brightly lit streets and instead sticking to the shadowy corridors between buildings. Now they're on this side and still up to no good, I wager."

Batman moved past her to the edge of the building, cape draped over his shoulders and body, and leaned for a better look at the group on the ground. His mind went to work as did the tech in his cowl. Five men, two women. All mid to late twenties. Two men, armed. Crowbar. Pistol; most likely stolen. Both women are armed; one with a pair of knives, the other with a baseball bat. He retrieved binoculars from a pocket on his belt for a closer look. Running purple and green colors. Bright hair. Clown-like face paint. Jokerz. His scowl grew. How anyone could follow that madman even to the point of mimicking him was beyond Batman.

Batman shared the information he gathered from watching them with his unofficial partner. She was stunned.

"All that from just a look?"

"No." He packed away his binoculars but kept his eyes set on the small group. "Do they seem to have a mark?"

Batgirl shrugged. "Not a clue. When I caught sight of them, they were cutting down a corridor to the rear of the apartment buildings. If I didn't know better, I would have assumed them to be a sort of patrol, but I don't think they have a plan. Based on the few case files I've been able to sneak a peek at, they don't head out with much of a plan: just chaos. Can't help but feel that they're just waiting for the first hapless man or woman to wander into their turf."

Batman's eyes traced up the street. The sidewalk was sparsely populated. Most of the foot traffic was on the opposite side of the road and the few that did walk by the gang seemed none the wiser to their presence. Even so, the group didn't seem all that eager to pounce until an older, slightly overweight man sloppily dressed in exercise wear rounded the corner. As the man jogged unknowingly into their clutches, the Jokerz seemed to tighten up their ranks and press themselves against the brickwork of their hiding spot. Even at this distance, Batman could tell that the group below was preparing to spring. "Get ready."

"Yeah, you can fly down and subdue them now if you want, but I'll have to use the ladder or something. I can't just jump across the street if I want to keep my legs."

Batman, concerned that she was trying to weasel out of the fight, turned to reprimand her but was pleasantly surprised to see Batgirl already making her way to the fire escape. Initiative. Good. But that won't be necessary anymore. You're with me, now. He fired his line launcher across the street. Once the line was secure, he ordered her back to his side. Batgirl obediently returned and then looked at the thick metal cord with a wry expression on her lips. He could tell she was skeptical of its anchoring. He held out his hand. "Trust me."

Batgirl sighed then accepted Batman's hand. "Hold on tight..." she warned.

Batman grunted and pushed off the building, riding the cable over the moderately busy street with Batgirl securely hanging from his hand. He felt her fingers tighten around his wrist as they soared across the expanse. He felt her weight on his right side and was keenly aware of just how much more it pulled him down to Earth, almost like an anchor. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye and was able to make out her bared teeth and could almost imagine the expression on her face. It reminded him of Dick's first time riding over the city. Dick, too, had an expression halfway between fear and excitement that first night. Despite himself, Batman couldn't push down the sentimental feeling creeping up his throat. It was good to have a partner again.

The two landed, unseen and unheard, on the building just above the hoodlums. Batgirl quickly released his hand the moment both her feet were flat on the surface and hunched over, hyperventilating as she tried to tame her rapidly beating heart.

"Are you alright?" Batman inquired with a quiet urgency.

She raised her index finger in his direction. "Give me a sec," she replied in a restrained whisper. After a moment to recollect herself, she straightened up with her head held high and walked to the ledge. "That's going to take some getting used to."

Batman joined her side just as the group of Jokerz below, weapons ready, sprang their trap on the unfortunate jogger. He watched as the poor man didn't even get across the building gap before he was harshly yanked into the cold, dark alley by two pairs of greedy and conniving hands. He attempted to struggle but was quickly subdued by a rather stiff backhand.

"Give us some dough and we'll letcha go!" rhymed the Jokerz member carrying the crowbar.

"You don't want any trouble from us," a second piped up. He gestured menacingly with his pistol and the faint moonlight bounced off the sharp silvered finish.

"Please!" The man whimpered as he realized he was at the mercy of the seven Jokerz. "I don't have anything! I'm only a school custodian!"

"We-ell, you better hurry up and find something!" threatened the knife-wielding girl in a sing-song voice. "We don't carry these pointy things just for show, you know." She traced the tip of her blade along the muscle tensed in the man's neck.

The man whimpered again.

Batman didn't need to see any more. He nodded at his companion. Batgirl immediately vaulted over the ledge and landed on the fire escape with a clang, confusing the gang members. All eyes went up to try and identify the source of the clatter. Before the group could gather their wits, Batgirl leaped from the metal railing and flipped forward in mid-air. The heel of her boot crashed into the base of the crowbar-wielder's neck. He went down with a pained yelp.

Before any of the other Jokerz could respond to Batgirl's sudden appearance, Batman descended, feet first, crashing into the gun-toting member. In a flash, Batman had the firearm in his hands, emptying the gun's chamber and releasing its magazine in one fluid motion. Before the freed ammunition even hit the ground, Batman had already pistol-whipped the next closest Jokerz member to further give him some space. As the man staggered back, Batman chucked the gun deeper into the alley as an added precaution.

Finally, one Jokerz member spoke up. "Woah! It's the Bat!" was all she got to say before Batgirl rammed her shoulder into the girl's chest, knocking the wind from her.

She blocked a strike from an unarmed member and took a moment to recount all that had just happened. The gunman is out and his gun is gone. The crowbar guy is down, for now. Batman brought his armored knee into that thug's face. His shoulders sagged as he dropped with a low moan. Scratch that. He's down for good. She blocked another punch from the unarmed man and then threw one of her own, her packed knuckles collided with his made-up face. This guy's down, too.

Batman vaulted over the head of another thug and executed a palm strike. As the man staggered to turn around, Batman brought a quick strike to the bridge of his nose. The man fell unconscious.

"I'm gonna end you, Bats!"

Batman expertly ducked down and a crowbar whizzed above his head. The girl with the knives had picked up a heavier object. Not one to be attacked twice, Batman swiped her legs out from under her with his leg and then slammed her face into the concrete. Ordinarily, he would not have been as brutal, but tonight was different; tonight he was making his first stand, again. He was sending a message: he was back and crime would not be tolerated.

As he stood, he felt a body crash into his side. The man who he'd pistol-whipped was finally stable enough to attack. Or at least try. The man had attempted a shaky tackle but Batman had barely moved. Batman brought his elbow down, full force, onto his attacker. When the man let go to clutch his aching neck, Batman ended the fight with a swift knee to the guy's cheek.

Meanwhile, Batgirl was squaring off against the final gang member. This member was clearly new to the thug life. Throughout the whole fight, she'd been paralyzed, feet almost glued to the sidewalk, muttering, "They told me that The Bat was dead" over and over. Finally, she'd got her wits about her and was engaged with Batgirl. She raised her bat to strike. In a forced playful voice that barely disguised her nervousness, the girl let out a short giggle before an attempt at comedy, "It's time to find out who the real 'Batgirl' is!"

Batgirl groaned internally at the pun. She saw the bat coming and flashed back to that night in the shopping complex. Not this time. She easily caught the bat's horizontal motion and pulled it towards her, forcing the girl forward and off balance. Now mere inches from each other, Batgirl leaned in close to her enemy. "I don't like baseball bats," she growled. She reared back and slammed her helmeted forehead into the girl's unprotected skull rendering her unconscious. Batgirl let go of the slugger and the girl fell back onto the pavement. She looked around and realized the poor custodian was still there, unharmed but in shock.

Batman turned to him. He raised a single armored finger to his lips, the only hint of his humanity. And then, as quick as he'd appeared, Batman was gone.

"You should call the police," Batgirl instructed. "You know, before any of these scum wake up." She then ran further into the alley and disappeared up the fire escape from whence she came.

The fight had felt like an eternity but when she back was on the roof and able to look at the Clocktower, she made a startling discovery. "It's only nine-fifty?" she exclaimed quietly. The last time she'd looked at the tower was fifteen minutes ago. That time minus the time it took for them to cross the street, her recovery from crossing the street, and then the wait for the signal added out to…

"Four minutes," Batman muttered.

"Wow..." She was impressed. Never before had her fights ended so quickly.

"That was slow."

"The hell?" Batgirl looked at the man incredulously. "That was slow? It took only four minutes to end that struggle! What is normal to you?"

"By myself, it would have been over in two minutes. Those kids were sloppy and unorganized, just vultures circling the weak. A combination of tools and well-placed strikes would have put them down. With any one of my old partners, it would have taken less than a minute. Had the whole Bat-Clan shown; they would have given up and fled before the fight started."

Batgirl was silent for a moment. She knew she wasn't the most practiced vigilante but even accounting for this, she didn't think that she was that bad at what she was trying to do. With her ego shattered, she fought to keep her voice from quivering as she replied. "So what are you saying? I suck? I'm holding you back?"

"Yes." Batman's answer was blunt, but not without explanation. "Your talent is raw and unrefined. You have potential, but it is not focused."

"What are you suggesting?" Batgirl asked uneasily.

"Training. You need it."

Kimber had taken a few martial arts and even reached black belt in a few, but she knew better than to argue with The Bat. "When do we start?"

"We've already started." He dropped a handheld T-shaped device at his feet and then stalked off. "Lesson two. Follow me."

She picked it up and did as she was told.

He fired a line from his grapnel gun and swung to a building three blocks away with ease and grace, the cable retracting as he landed. To the citizens below who happened to look up and catch a glimpse of Gotham's returned protector, they would have assumed he had flown that distance. The way his cape fanned out and gave him a distinct silhouette of a winged creature of the night that walked the line between bat and devil filled her with awe. When he landed on the rooftop, he almost seemed to melt into a puddle of dark gray ink before reforming into an imposing gargoyle. And then he looked at her and it became clear just what he wanted her to do.

"Damn..." Batgirl looked with slight apprehension at the building where Batman waited and then at the device in her hands. "Oh, boy..." She fired the line at the same building Batman had targeted and jumped.

Holy shit! She felt the blood rushing to her face and then to her stomach. She fought the urge to scream, biting into her lip to prevent even a squeak from slipping by. Get it together, Kimber! Her arc so far wasn't perfect, she could feel that much, but she wasn't off course either. The city around her whizzed by in a distracting blur and she had to block it out to focus on her form. It was a chore keeping herself from spinning around on the wire. She tightened her core and pressed her legs together, pointing them straight down. to become one with the rope As her swing reached the apex, she instinctively kicked her legs forward, as if on a swing, to further direct her momentum. As she neared her destination she realized she had no idea how to land nor how to retract the wire.

Okay, calm down... Just calm down. On accident, she hit the release button and felt herself begin to fall. It was like the best part of Amusement Mile's freefall ride but without the safety features. Her well-being all rode on just what she would do next. The roof drew closer and closer. He's got some nifty cape feature obviously, or he actually can defy gravity. Either way, I'm pudding. She closed her eyes and leaned forward.

"Oof!" Her voice surprised her just as much as the impact did. She landed just behind her right shoulder and rolled four times before coming to her feet. Tumbling classes had paid off. "Oh, thank god." She patted herself down frantically to make sure she hadn't sustained any injury.

"It's a start." Batman offered no words of support, no words of comfort. "Again."

Not even a moment to catch my breath, eh? She followed on shaky legs.

Once again the Dark Knight fired his line and swung over with practiced grace and once again Batgirl tried her best to mimic his movements. She knew she looked goofy. She knew she looked ridiculous, But hey, even he must have had to start where I'm at. Soon, she began to notice the more subtle movements and patterns as she swung. The way her muscles fell into a rhythm that kept her centered, the wind cutting at her cheeks, the way her cape created drag to prevent her from falling too fast, the night air tugging at her hair as she swung from rooftop to rooftop.

After a few more buildings, she caught up with the Dark Knight and was even beginning to match him nearly swing for swing. "So, where are we going?" she asked in mid-arc of another swing.

His response nearly made her drop the device keeping her above the city. "Home."