If you were to ask someone what is the most tragic thing that could befall a person, you would usually get the same answers. A loved one dying unexpectedly. Getting cancer or some other terminal illness. But what most people would not say is the death of a dream.
Unlike the other two, watching as your dream slowly dies is a different sort of grief-a different sort of pain. And unless you've personally experienced it, it is almost indescribable. It is a bitter, suffocating feeling that is equivalent to being knifed in the chest.
Or in Barbara Gordon's case, the sudden impact of thousands of pounds of steel pressed against her tiny body.
But that was a story for another time, one already told hundreds of miles away back in Chicago. This story began with a long, winding road towards Barbara's final destination, a destination where people—where dreams—went to wither and die. There was no doubt Barbara knew this while on that endless car ride over. The sullen look in her eye made her resemble a prisoner headed for the gallows.
Barbara pressed her cheek against the cool pane of glass and sighed, watching as the vast stretch of pine trees passed by. She hadn't seen a building for the past hour, only the swampy wasteland that was the Pine Barrens. The next time she saw signs of civilization, it would mean she was entering the city limits—that she was closer to her destination than she hoped to be. With each tree the car passed, the knot in her stomach grew tighter, and she was sure it was from her insides being all tangled up.
"Barbara," a soft voice called out next to her. "Are you still asleep? We're almost there, honey."
She shut her eyes and slowed her breathing, hoping her dad would think she actually was. Oh, how she longed for sleep, but the peace she had sought after had eluded her since leaving Chicago. That was nearly twelve hours ago.
But how could she sleep right now with everything weighing on her mind? She had a better chance of walking again.
A grimace crossed her lips at the thought. She couldn't start using dark humor as a coping mechanism. Only cynics did that and now was not the time to be cynical. Not when the pain was still raw. She had to keep hope alive... somehow.
But what light was there to search for in a city filled with nothing but darkness?
She opened her eyes to stare at the ugly, wet sight in front of her. She had read somewhere that the Pine Barrens were referred to as such because of the acidic and nutrient-poor soil despite the name.
Reading. That seemed to be all she did nowadays. All she could do after the accident.
Quickly blinking back the tears brimming in her eyes, Barbara tried to think about something else. Something that didn't involve the sound of bones crunching against metal, and the searing pain that followed. Something that was far more pleasant and wouldn't make her lip tremble.
Her father.
The last time she had seen him was at the hospital when he came to visit her. It hadn't been that long ago between then and now, but in her mind, it felt like a whole other lifetime ago. In a way, it was.
That Barbara Gordon, the one who could walk, would've been talking non-stop with her dad and singing along to her favorite tunes.
But this Barbara Gordon had been stuck in a car for the past twelve hours without exchanging more than a few words with him.
Although she had hoped things would go better between them, she wasn't surprised they had turned out this way. Her dad had a knack for acting like things were normal when they so obviously weren't. Even when she came to visit, he would act like everything was a-okay.
Everyone in Gotham did.
Gotham. A city she thought she left behind for good. But in the cruelest twist of fate, she was now stuck here for probably the rest of her life.
As if on cue, water droplets started to fall on the glass as the first glimpse of the city's skyline came into view. Pushing her glasses up over the bridge of her nose, Barbara watched as streaks of lightning flashed above the dark outline of the city. What little sunlight penetrated through the overcast sky was dim. Despite the early hour, it already looked like night had settled over Gotham and Barbara had to double-check her watch to make sure it was, in fact, still the afternoon.
She turned away from the window, not wanting to dwell on the depressing sight in front of her any more than she had to. She would have plenty of time to do that once she got out of this car.
"Oh, good. You're up." James smiled down at her. "We're almost there."
Barbara rolled her eyes internally. Duh. She knew they were as much as she wished that wasn't the case. But if wishes were real, then she would still be a police officer instead of in a wheelchair.
James must've sensed her unease since he flipped on the radio dial and said, "Well, now that we're in the city limits, what about some tunes?"
"In a case that continues to boggle the Gotham City Police Department, a third Wayne Enterprises employee has disappeared." The reporter's voice crackled through the speakers.
Barbara was about to turn back around and force herself to sleep when the chilling news headline made her sit up straighter.
"Kirk Langstrom, who recently merged his pharmaceutical company with Wayne Medical, went missing yesterday evening. He was last seen—"
"Huh?" Barbara snapped her head to the side as the soft, mellow beat of The Eagles started playing. "Why did you change it?"
"If I wanted to hear nothing but bad news, I'd just go back to work." He chuckled at his own joke, one Barbara didn't even bother to crack a smile at. "Anyway, I don't need to be reminded about this damn case. No one seems able to crack it, not even our best detectives."
Barbara raised a curious eyebrow, sensing her dad's frustration. "Well, do you have any leads yet? Any suspects?"
He grew silent as they entered what Barbara thought was a desolate underpass. But while the blue fluorescent bulbs flickered above them, threatening to go out at any second and leave them in complete darkness, she could make out the vague outlines of haphazard tents and drifters.
"Just one," he finally answered in a hushed voice.
Before Barbara could ask what he meant, he turned to her with a stern look on his face. "Don't worry about it, Barbara. The media is just exaggerating, as usual. Saying men should be careful at night. It's probably some sort of dispute with a rival business, and they're trying to send a message."
Barbara crossed her arms and looked out the window at the grimy, graffitied walls around her. "To who? Bruce Wayne?"
James frowned at her but did not argue otherwise. "So... um..." he trailed off as if he were searching for the right words to continue. "There's a surprise waiting for you at home."
She blinked. "A surprise? Should I be worried?"
A wan smile crossed James's mouth as they drove out of the underpass and back into the murky light. "No. At least I hope not."
Ironically, his answer just made her even more worried.
Several guesses ran through her mind as to what this surprise might be. A dog? A new house? A party? Oh, how she hoped to God it was not a party. The last thing she needed right now was a bunch of strangers jumping out at her as she rolled through the door.
But as they came into view of the vacant driveway, Barbara realized the surprise was neither a new house nor a party. The house was the same drab one she used to live in, down to its same drab brick walls. Nothing had changed.
Anxious to get out, she opened the door and took her first breath of the surrounding air. Cold and wet, just like she remembered. A shiver ran across her spine, making her wrap her arms around herself to preserve the fleeting warmth.
As she waited for her dad to take out the wheelchair, Barbara peered out at the cigarette butts and muddy newspapers littering the street. She wouldn't be surprised if she saw a rat come scurrying out of the gutter.
"Looks like nothing has changed," she said, wrapping her arms around her dad's neck as he hoisted her up. Even though he was up in years, James didn't lack the strength to lift her onto her chair. Barbara figured being the police commissioner must've kept him pretty active then, considering most middle-aged men would be huffing and puffing by now.
James pushed his glasses up and nodded. "It's gotten even worse lately. Not just in sanitation, but in crime too. The crime rate's skyrocketed in the past year."
At the mention of the word "crime," Barbara flicked her gaze away from the filth. "Crime? You mean like the missing Wayne employees—"
The look in her dad's eye warned her now was not the time.
Shutting her mouth, Barbara stared at the building in front of her. What exactly was waiting for her inside?
A part of her didn't want to know.
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