I’d like to sit back and say that I haven’t made any mistakes in any relationships I’ve been in. Granted, that’s my ego talking, and we all can be sure that I’m lying. But…why fight it?

I’ve made mistakes in relationships. We all have. Sometimes multiple relationships. Case in point? My relationships with Jason Bard and Dick Grayson. Both relationships were ones with a lot of long-term potential mixed in with years of history and a few choice drops of angst. The angst wasn’t there at the beginning, but where history is, angst is bound to follow. There is no way of avoiding it. Especially in the case of that latter relationship. I mean, we were out on the field as Robin and Batgirl, and later as Batgirl and Nightwing. That changed to Nightwing and Oracle a few years later. A lot of changes. A lot of history. A lot of angst. And it led to one horrible ending.

But I think that, out of the two relationships, I made the bigger mistake in my relationship with Jason Bard.

Jason Bard worked for my Dad. He was fond of me, and I’d be lying if I said that I hadn’t had my eye on him. He was a great, sweet guy. And the relationship that we had...there are memories from it that still have me sit up at night sometimes and think of him. But I screwed that relationship up.

Horribly.

I made the mistake of getting engaged to Jason Bard. I knew it was a stupid thing to do at the time, but I loved him. I was never sure if I would ever truly be comfortable in that relationship though. He didn’t know about Batgirl, and Batgirl was one of the most important aspects of myself. To have gotten engaged to him, and to not have told him…what was I thinking? How could that have ever worked? Marriages are built on trust, and by not telling him, how much was I proving that I trusted him?

To this day, I don’t know if I ever would have told him about Batgirl. I don’t know how he would have reacted to it. He was a cop. I wasn’t sure how he would have felt having a woman in his life who was a little but more powerful than he was, who was more able out in the field than he was. I mean, he was the Alpha male, the one who needed to protect…but he wouldn’t ever have been able to protect me from what Gotham City really was. And it wasn’t his fault. It was mine. I should never have let my emotions cloud my judgment.

Muse: Barbara Gordon
Fandom: Birds of Prey
Words: 448

Time. It's always all about time. And timing. Especially in an occupation like this, where I've got so many lives dependent on me and my operatives. It was easier a few months ago, back when Dinah was still part of this outfit. She was smart. Resourceful. Dependable. Reliable. The new girls, they're different from her. I still have Helena and Zinda, but I know that they won't stay on for long either. Time changes everything. When the time comes for them, they'll leave and move on too.

It's the way of the world. It's the way of our world, specifically. When it was time for him to, Dick Grayson left the cape and pixie boots of Robin behind and went to find himself, coming back a short while later as the hero calling himself Nightwing. Jason Todd died and left that same space empty, but when he was brought back to life, he didn't return to being Robin. He took on another identity. Perhaps not the wisest choice all things considered, but there already was a third Robin by then. It was time for him to move on.

I don't know if that time's ever going to come for me, if I'm ever going to be able to move on. Yes, when Joker shot me in the spine, I pretty much realized that it was time to do something different but...with Dinah gone, with Manhunter going rogue, and with Spy Smasher in near complete control of me, I can't help but wonder....is it time to end the Birds of Prey.

But then I stop and realize that I'm not built that way. No, it's not time to stop my operations. It's time to modify how they work and fight back.

Muse: Barbara Gordon
Fandom: Birds of Prey
Words: 290

I didn't want to believe it when Robin told me.

I didn't want to believe it when Nightwing told me, either.

But I guess it's time I accepted it.

Cassandra Cain has changed. She's followed through the destiny provided to her by way of her parentage, and she's not the girl she once used to be. She no longer strives to be a hero. She's leading the League of Assassins now, and worse, she's using the name and honor of the Bat for darker purposes. She's tainting the name that Bruce let her use. She's tainting the name that I gave her, the name that I passed down to her. I chose her as my successor to the title of Batgirl, and now it seems as though I was wrong. Helena's proven herself more worthy of that name now than Cassandra has, and Helena was never even my protegee.

It kills me that Cass has turned out this way. It kills me that she's decided to lose all the potential she's had and lead the very group of people that she was wrongfully brought up to lead. This wasn't supposed to be her destiny. This wasn't supposed to be who she would end up becoming. She had the potential to become the next great protector of Gotham City. Now she's just another crazed maniac with following of thugs and henchmen.

And yet though I'm disappointed in her and her decisions, I'm more upset with myself. She lived with me. I trained her. I gave her everything I could, and yet she still deferred to the other side. So, I have to ask myself - where did I go wrong?

Muse: Barbara Gordon
Fandom: Birds of Prey
Words: 279

He's younger than me. I know that. He knows that. Hell, I don't think there's anyone there who doesn't know that. But we were in the heroing business together. That makes you grow up, fast, whether you want to or not. And he was mature beyond his years. He was perfect. The greatest guy ever. I'm not even exaggerating here. There will never be a better man than Dick Grayson.

I waited, for a long time, for our relationship to go somewhere - anywhere - than in the rut that it had been stuck in for years. And it finally happened, last year. He proposed to me. I said yes. That's what you do. When the man you're in love with asks you to marry him, you say yes. There is never any second thought about it.

The engagement broke, though. I don't know why. I didn't want to ask him why. I accepted it, plain and simple. No complications. That's what you do, if you love someone. You let them go, and you wait for them to come back to you.

He hasn't come back yet. I don't know if he ever will. Maybe he wasn't mine. Maybe I'm not his great love.

I'm not going to wait around for him to come back to me. I am going to wait for him to grow up and realize what he's left, though.

Muse: Barbara Gordon/Oracle
Fandom: Birds of Prey
Words: 233

I never thought I'd say this, but I've actually grown quite fond of Huntress. I know, I know, it's a shocker. Especially because just three years ago, she was one cape in Gotham City who I loathed more than anything. But I had my reasons for that, and not all of them were because she slept with Dick or because she donned a Batgirl costume without my permission. It was the way she operated in general - she was careless, but different from the sort of careless that I had operated under in my days as Batgirl. She was willing to draw blood. I wasn't. I still remember the first time I went up against the Joker...the first time I hit one of his thugs with a crowbar and accidentally drew blood. It was terrifying. It was real. These were people with lives. With families. I cared. Helena didn't. That's changed now, though. She's lost a lot of that anger, a lot of that thirst that comes about when blood cries for blood. She's in it now to save lives, to improve the world. She's a different Helena. A better Helena. A Helena that I'm proud to work with. She's my top operative now. Whoever would have suspected that?

Muse: Barbara Gordon
Fandom: Birds of Prey
Words: 209

She pushed herself up with the help of the two dangling handles above her bed and turned to her side, staring at the beautiful dark haired man next to her. He was asleep, laying on his stomach, his head facing her. His eyes were closed, his long lashes touching his face as he dreamed peacefully. She resisted the urge to run a hand through his hair and instead just gazed at him lovingly. It was funny. Years ago, she'd thought of him as a mere annoying kid in pixie boots who had a hopelessly stupid crush on her. Now, after so much had happened, things between them had changed. She had come to love him. Love him so much that she'd let him into her fractured life - the life that she was still struggling so hard to put together.

But last night had changed everything. Last night he had told her that he loved her. Last night she had led him to her bed. And now this morning, she realized that her life was much less fractured than she had thought it to be.

Muse: Barbara Gordon
Fandom: Birds of Prey
Words: 185

I'm going to build a better team. I have to. For years I relied on Dinah as my top operative, the single best partner I could ever have asked for. But then, after a few years, the team started growing, as teams tend to do. We added Helena Bertinelli - the Huntress - into our team, followed by Zinda Blake, the best damn pilot this side of anywhere in our galaxy. Three completely different agents. Three who were at the top of their game. No, I don't mean to sound like Charles "Charlie" Townsend talking about his three Angels, but...you have to admit, the similarities are there. Including the fact that Dinah just pulled a Jill Munroe and left our team. I'm not going to make the same mistake as a fictional detective agency, though, and only stick to three operatives at a time. I can't afford to. Dinah once told me that I had a very deep rolodex, and she wasn't kidding. I do. And I'm going to put that rolodex to good use and create one heck of a force to reckon with.

Muse: Barbara Gordon
Fandom: Birds of Prey
Words: 185

Barbara Gordon was taken completely by surprise when a strong, muscular pair of arms covered in blue wrapped around her slender, petite frame and pulled her in close. The last thing she saw before her eyes closed involuntarily were a pair of shining, merry blue eyes. The next thing she knew, a pair of soft, inviting lips were on her own, pressing against them gently but passionately. Barbara struggled, trying to push herself out of the awkward embrace as alarm bells went off in her head. She tried her hardest not to return the kiss, but where her mind was strong, her will was weak.

The kiss broke in a moment, and Barbara took in a deep lungful of air as she stared at the face that came with the kiss.

“Jason Bard,” Barbara stated, her voice a mix of annoyance and pleasure. “What would Daddy say if he saw you?”

“He’d probably laugh it off, Barb,” Jason said, pointing up above Barbara’s shiny red-haired head. “That weird green thing above you? That’s mistletoe.”

Muse: Barbara Gordon
Fandom: Birds of Prey
Words: 174

She stared at them, a small smile across her soft lips. Her mouth and chin were the only things left bare by her bat-reminiscint cowl, and she was having one hell of a hard time hiding her expression of happiness from both heroes standing in front of her. One of them was dressed very similar to herself, like a giant bat. Somehow, though, he seemed more imposing and scary, while she looked impish and dainty, despite her height. The other hero was a couple of years younger than herself, dressed in bright colors that made her think more of a Christmas elf than an actual hero.

Funny, though, that they were the people whose approval she sought constantly, the people who knew all of her secrets, though she knew none of theirs.

That would change tonight. They would have to stop underestimating her. She had just saved both Batman and Robin, the Boy Wonder (because, clearly, choosing to either call yourself Robin or Boy Wonder was a tough decision to make) from certain death of a new sort. Hell, she'd stood up to Mr. Freeze just now. They'd better have learned their lesson.

"So, boys, the moral of tonight's story is...don't ever underestimate a cute redhead who obviously knows what she's doing. So, do I get in on both your little secrets, or do we need more proof? Because I obviously kicked butt tonight, and it was very much without your help." Her grin widens. Yeah. Satisfaction is awesome. Especially when you have to save Batman of all people.

Muse: Barbara Gordon
Fandom: Birds of Prey
Words: 260

There were some things you just couldn't tell your fiance.

Like why you were breaking off your engagement. 

Barbara Gordon bit down on her lip, her bright green eyes hidden behind her glasses as she gazed down at her lap, at a pair of legs that may never move again on their own. She was hiding behind a phone as she was doing this, and Barbara felt like an idiot for that. But she couldn't face Jason. Not now. Not in a wheelchair. It was too hard. And she knew that Jason would blame himself for what had happened to her. In a way, Barbara realized, she did too. A part of her hated herself for that. But while laying in a hospital bed, Barbara had realized that Jason Bard, her fiance, the man that she loved and the man that she had wanted to spend the rest of her life with...she had realized that that man would never be able to protect her from the likes of the Joker. And so she would have to leave him, and he could never know the reason why. 

"I'm sorry," she said feebly into the phone, years of guilt wracking up inside of her. Jason hadn't known about Batgirl or anything. He didn't know about this either. Barbara squeezed her eyes shut after a solitary tear came out of her eye. No more, she had told herself. No more crying. She was better than this. "I love you, Jason. But this...this isn't going to work anymore." Because I don't work anymore. She hung up the phone then, the cordless handset falling out of her hand and clattering into the shadows of Barbara's cold, dark room. The very same room that Barbara herself was trying to hide herself in. The same room that she was trying to hide her emotions in. She wouldn't leave until she felt ready to not hide anymore. Whenever that happened.

Muse: Barbara Gordon
Fandom: Birds of Prey
Words: 322

I've gotten the question a lot lately.

About whether or not I'm fine about what's transpired between me and Dick Grayson. About whether or not I'm fine with the fact that our engagement is broken, and that we haven't had any contact for awhile.

I smile and I say that it's okay. I tell them that it happens, and that maybe it wasn't meant to be, that maybe there were too many things factoring in against us. I tell them that I'm fine because it's not my first broken engagement, that I went through the same thing with Jason Bard, and that I'm a survivor, that it doesn't affect me at all.

And the truth is that it does affect me, a lot. It hurts like hell, but there isn't anything I can do about that. He's gone his own way, and so have I.

Superhero romances are a bad idea anyway.

Muse: Barbara Gordon
Fandom: Birds of Prey
Words: 152

Of course I've rebelled. Who hasn't rebelled over anything a day in their lives? Well, okay, maybe Superman, but I'm not counting him here. No, seriously. People call him the Big Blue Boyscout for a reason. What I mean is, most of us have rebelled over something, even if it's something as tiny as how many times we're supposed to chew before we swallow. No, I am being serious with that one. My friend Marcy had parents who wanted her to chew twenty-five times before she swallowed, and they tried to enforce it at the dinner table. She'd get away with chewing twenty-three times, a feat that used to make her proud when we were little. 

For me, the rebellion was different but no more important than Marcy's own rebellion. We rebel to fight for our independance, to fight for those things that we believe are our rights, and sometimes our individuality. 

More than anything else, I wanted to follow my father's footsteps as a cop, or even as a detective, or an FBI agent. I wasn't allowed to do any of those, because I was too short, apparently. Right, because heels can't fix that, right? Any way, in a story older than time, fate had another plan for me, a plan which involved me getting what I wanted. Long story short, I became Batgirl, and every time I slipped on that cape and cowl, every time I slipped on my belt and swung out into the night, taking on the likes of Catwoman, the Riddler, and Killer Moth, I was rebelling. I was rebelling against my father, who didn't want me to be a cop or anything else. I was rebelling against every single person who had been telling me that I was too short to help in the war against crime. I was even, I guess, rebelling against society in general, who felt that I'd be better off working a 9-5 job as a librarian at the Gotham Public Library. My rebellion was not a bad one, and had I not rebelled, I very well would not have been the woman I am today. I would not have been strong enough to pick myself off the floor after the Joker had wounded me - because that would have happened regardless of my being Batgirl - and I would not have been able to face the hardships that followed me afterwards.

Muse: Barbara Gordon
Fandom: Birds of Prey
Words: 402

I give up on dating. I really do. I'm tired of it. Not because all the guys I meet are creeps or because they all only want one thing. Well, no, wait...in this case, it is because they all only want one thing. But not that thing. No, they all want to take care of me.

Take care of me. 

Because I'm in a wheelchair.

I don't understand it, I really don't. Does having me in a wheelchair make me somehow less independant than other people? Does me being in a wheelchair mean that I'm somehow, I don't know, mentally retarded or something that I have to be taken care of? (The answer on both counts, by the way, is no.) I don't get it - I don't get why humans will see someone with a handicap and instantly think that they're somehow brain-damaged or something and proceed to make proclamations on how they want to take care of you. I don't want to be taken care of, I want to be loved and respected. I'm not less than you, because if I was then I wouldn;t be the Oracle.

Muse: Barbara Gordon/Oracle
Fandom: Birds of Prey
Words: 190

Okay, so maybe I wasn't prepared for this. I mean, I've only really been Batgirl for a couple of months now, and while I've come across a few of Gotham City's rogues, they've been the milder ones. I'm sure that's been sheer luck, and that's had nothing to do with Batman somehow interfering, but this is different. This is me on my own, investigating a case without Batman or Robin's knowledge - at least that I know of. Well, no. Batman's out of town on League business, so I know he isn't keeping tags on me. Pixie Boots, on the other hand, has a bit of a crush on me. There's no telling when he is and when he isn't watching me.

I just hope that this isn't one of the times that he is watching me. I mean, I know I don't need his approval or anything - I don't need his boss' permission to be Batgirl - but this is a bit of a fall from grace for me. See, there's been a rash of murders in Gotham City. I know, I know, big surprise. A rash of murders. So what else is new? But these ones, these are different. They're brutal, and though it looks like fear itself was a major factor in killing them, its safe to say that its not the Scarecrow doing his thing. At least, that's what I've gleaned from the police reports I've snuck away from Daddy.

Looking down at the body at my feet, though, I have to agree with all of the evidence the police reports supply. It's not the Scarecrow. For all I know, its someone completely new. I kneel down next to the dead body by my feet. It belongs to a man who has to be somewhere in his early thirties. His face is cracked and swollen, and blood is still slowly flowing out of some of the deep gashes and puncture wounds on what might have been a handsome face. His eyes are open wide and glassy, staring at me, yet not taking me in since no one's behind those eyes anymore. His mouth is twisted open, contorted in a silent scream that's never reached anyone's ears, not even the ears of his murderer, judging by the deep, jagged cuts that circle around his shirt like the pattern on Charlie Brown's shirt. Those marks can't have been done by himself, so this definitely isn't a suicide. And Scarecrow isn't a big fan of weaponry.

I've been trying my hardest not to retch, but I don't think I can hold it in much longer. I've knocked out the teeth of petty thieves, and I've gone hand to hand in combat with Firefly and Killer Moth, but this is something else entirely. I pull a yellow gloved hand to my mouth and try to keep from vomiting. The area around this man has been defiled enough without me doing that. Closing my eyes tightly, I know that I won't be able to erase away the image of this man's face from my mind, ever. I have eidetic memory - perfect memory - and its pretty much my curse. Every single thing I see, I won't forget. It explains my perfect grades. It also explains my terrific nightmares.

Standing up, I hug myself for a moment, gathering the wits that I know I have to finish this. I am Barbara Gordon, daughter of Commissioner James Gordon. I am Batgirl. There is no way in hell that I'm backing down due to a mutilated body.

Muse: Barbara Gordon/Batgirl
Fandom: Birds of Prey
Words: 595
Rating: PG

A lot of people seem to think that I was this shy, bookish girl in high school who didn't have a lot of friends, and who possibly didn't have a lot of social skills.

It's a sad misconception, really.

I mean, yes, I loved books as a high school student and I spent a lot of the time in the library reading, but that really doesn't rob a young woman of her social skills. No, really. Just ask some of the other incredibly smart women in this city, like Harleen Quinzel or Pamela Isley or...wow. 

I'm not making a good case here, am I?

As I'm sure my father would tell you, I was quite the social butterfly when I was younger. Granted, I didn't have parties every night (hey hey now, I never claimed to be a party girl), I did have a social life. This included dates and boys and just girls nights in watching movies that were popular back then and eating popcorn and doing each other's hair while our faces were caked with the latest facial pack that that month's issue of Cosmopolitan had told us to try out. We were struggling to be women. Aren't we all at that age? 

I was free, and spirited, and happy. I had nothing bad in my life up until that point. I think the key to it was that I was normal, that I was myself. I was who I was, and if you befriended me, well, that was why. You befriended me because I didn't put on any airs or try to be someone I so obviously wasn't. I never tried to be the prettiest girl in school, or prom queen, or god, even a cheerleader. You befriended me because I was Barbara Gordon, nothing more, and certainly never anything less.

I kept that quality of myself when I donned the persona of Batgirl, but with Joker's shooting me through the spine...I lost that. I lost a bit of my identity, and through that, I lost some of my friends. Even some of the friendships I tried to forge later on, like with Power Girl, didn't work out the way it should have because I had lost that bit of myself. But it's back now, that part of myself, in a large part thanks to Dick Grayson, who never didn't believe in me,  Ted Kord - bless his soul, and Dinah Lance, my first female friend in a long while.  My best friend now. If it hadn't been for people like them, maybe I would never have been able to make friends again, like I have with Helena and Zinda and even, to an extent, Cindy.

Muse: Barbara Gordon/Oracle
Fandom: Birds of Prey
Words: 449

She sat, staring at the wall in front of her, in the darkened room in her town house in Gotham's trendy Park Ridge district. Barbara had lived here for a good two or three years now, and she'd had Batman build it to her specifications when she first moved in, complete with a secret room for all of her Batgirl stuff. She had loved this place more than any other place she had ever lived, more so because she had it bought it on her own and made it on her own.

She lovingly ran a hand over the thick, black kevlar and nomex weave that had made her last Batgirl uniform, one that she hadn't worn in at least six months. Her bare fingers ran over the bright yellow bat-shaped emblem that was made of the same weave, tears burning her eyes and streaming down her cheeks, falling on the waterproof uniform. She had given up being Batgirl over a year ago, she knew, but it was the costume that was the most painful reminder of who she had once been, of what she had once been able to do.

Things that she would never do again.

Her father, James Gordon, had called her repeatedly, asking her to go out with him to dinner, or maybe spend a weekend in the Hamptons, courtesy of Bruce Wayne, but Barbara hadn't been feeling up to it. She hadn't been feeling up to much of anything, but how could anyone blame her? Joker had come up to her father's home, had knocked on their door, and had shot her in the spine. Not only that, but then Joker had also taken her, stripped her down, and taking pictures of her for her father's viewing displeasure. He had taken more of her than any man ever had, and now Barbara was denied that revenge which she so strongly needed, that revenge which she so strongly desired.

She laughed a small, bitter laugh for a moment. She understood, now, the same drive that had pushed Bruce and Dick into their respective costumes. Unlike them, she had become Batgirl not for vengeance but for...for what? Fun? A higher sense of duty? It had happened quite by accident, intitially, but the thrill of it had drawn her in. She couldn't stop, and she had sought out the help of Batman, Robin, and the Black Canary.

But that was all besides the point, now. She was broken. She was broken, and she didn't have the spirit to go on, any longer. She just...she didn't know what she wanted any more. She wasn't stupid enough to wish for death, but she didn't know what it was she wished for. Except for revenge.

Which wouldn't happen any time soon.

"The Barbara I knew wouldn't wish for revenge," a voice suddenly spoke up. Using her hands, Barbara wheeled around, her bright eyes alert. She wiped the tears from her eyes and cheeks.

"Who's there?" Barbara asked, doing her best to keep her voice firm and strong. She succeeded and she was proud of that.

"God, Barbara, don't you remember? I was your best friend." A figure stepped out of the shadows, a figure that Barbara could barely make out. It was female, that much was certain, with long, curly blonde hair and alabaster skin. The figure moved closer and Barbara saw the Superman shield blazoned across a very female chest.

"Who?" Barbara asked, furrowing her eyebrows. "Kara?" she asked, after a moment, unsure, uncertain. Kara who? Barbara didn't know anyone named Kara. Right?

The mysterious voice didn't answer Barbara's question. Instead, it continued on and said, "The Crisis changed everything, didn't it?" Notes of sullen sadness playing across her sweet voice. "Even you, Barbara. You were so happy, so full of life. This wasn't supposed to be your destiny. You were going to become a Senator, and eventually maybe even Batwoman before you became Commissioner of the Gotham City Police Department."

Barbara stared at the mysterious figure in a mix of mild fascination and fear. Some of these things that the girl talked about, they had been dreams of Barbara's, dreams that she had felt were shattered by the incident with Joker. How, then...?

"Who are you?" Barbara asked again, her voice firm. She needed to know if this was someone, something, that she was going to have to fight, or someone that she was going to have to sic Batman on. "Tell me, tell me now or I swear I will call Batman here right now to -"

"I'm Supergirl," the figure said, stepping completely out of the shadows. "Or at least, I was, until the universe reset itself." She shrugged and gave Barbara a bright smile. "I don't know if there will be another one of me in this world, but that doesn't matter right now. All that matters is that you can't do this to yourself."

"Do what to myself?"

"This. Taking pity on yourself, losing yourself to despair. You're above that, you're better than that. You had such a strong, forceful spirit, Barbara. Losing your legs shouldn't change that. My death didn't change my spirit from being who I always had been, I don't understand why you -"

"Your death?" Barbara asked, intrigued. "I don't understand." This was a lie, of course. Barbara was beginning to understand what this mysterious Supergirl was talking about, and it was starting to disturb her.

"It doesn't matter if you do, Barbara. I'm not supposed to be here, and when I'm gone, you won't remember me having visited you."
The figure that Barbara now knew to be Kara shrugged again, the same painful smile across her features. "But that's alright, because you'll remember what I said as thoughts of your own. Pick yourself up, Barbara Gordon, and be the strong woman we both know you are. The Greek prophet Cassandra was crippled by her curse, but she never thought beyond that curse. She never saw how she could make that curse work to her advantage. Don't make that same mistake, Barbara. Don't let this incident with the Joker cripple you from fulfilling a destiny beyond the one seemingly prophesized for you." Supergirl turned around then, staring off into space at something Barbara couldn't see. Then, "I have to go. The Spectre is getting angry for my having broken the rules twice, now. Please Barbara, if not for your own sake, than for mine, for the friend you lost and will never remember, please don't let this affect you. Carve your own destiny and make your future as bright as it should be," the spirit said as it came up to Barbara. She gave Barbara a swift, gossamer kiss on the forehead before it shimmered out of Barbara's living room.

Barbara stared at the spot where the girl, Supergirl, had stood only moments ago, lost deep in thought. She was right, of course. Barbara was better than this. She always had been. Moping around and crying weren't things a Gordon did. The Gordon spirit was made of much stronger stuff than that. And she understood what Supergirl...Super...who?

Had Superman just visited?

Barbara shook her head. She must have been daydreaming. The daydreaming must have helped, though. She would do what Cassandra had never done. She would hide behind the guise of an Oracle so that people would take notice of her and listen to her. Yes, that is what she would do. Barbara Gordon refused to stay down, broken, and dispirited.

Muse: Barbara Gordon/Oracle
Fandom: Birds of Prey
Words: 1247