When did you last go out in the sunshine? [p] Barbara

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The sunlight flooded through the window and illuminated the master bedroom of Wayne Manor as Alfred drew curtains. The sunlight hit the slumbering figure that was, up until recently, in a deep slumber on the master bed. Alfred looked down upon the bed and made an audible tutting sound before he laid down the law.
"Master Bruce, it is 11 in the morning. You have engagements today that require your attention."
"Whoever it is, reschedule." came the tired voice of Bruce Wayne.
"Absolutely not sir," was Alfred's reply, "Miss Gordon is coming all the way from her home to see you. I shall not turf her away as if she were selling buttons at the door."

Bruce Wayne gazed at Alfred with an incredulous look. The butler was staring right back at Bruce with a stern face that showed nothing but determination. Though Bruce kept a tight reign on things as Batman, Alfred kept a tight reign on Bruce no matter what happened. Nobody would dare to speak to Bruce the way that Alfred had done. And yet, deep down in places that Bruce would acknowledge when he woke up, Alfred was doing this because he worried about Bruce.

Alfred had raised Bruce since he was a child and had tried to teach him right from wrong. He remembered the first day after Bruce's parents funeral where he had tried to speak to Bruce. But the young lad would not speak, nor eat, and didn't do so for nearly a week. But Alfred never gave up on Bruce and refused to let the darkness consume him. And he continued to do so to this very day... refusing to let the Batman's nightly escapades consume all of Bruce's life.

"I've prepared your clothes and your breakfast is downstairs," Alfred continued without missing a beat, "Oatmeal topped with Blue Berries, a Banana, Two Boiled Eggs and some Green Tea. You have two hours to eat and do your daily work out before Miss Gordon gets here."

Bruce Wayne blinked and then rose from his bed. He knew better than to argue with Alfred.
"There are generals in the Army that wouldn't order me around like that..." Bruce grumbled.

"That explains why I only reached the rank of Private then," Alfred replied, "Now come along Master Wayne. It's been far too long since you went out into the sunshine."

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The alarm went off just as Barbara was fading fast. It wasn’t until it went off that Barbara remembered why she had set it, she was supposed to be getting ready to go to Wayne Manor. Just because she had a photographic memory, didn’t mean she would lose track of time. She wheeled out of the computer room and said “Off.” Two hours to go, that’s the allotted time she gave herself to get ready and make it in time, was it really morning already? Barbara made it to the shower, ripped off her shirt, pants, and undergarments, and carefully placed herself on the stool in her shower. Turning the dials to let out a hot stream of water only made her long to be in a bathtub. She loved basking in the water and turning the dials with her toes. Not anymore. Every move had to be planned, and it was growing on her.

Finishing her shower, Barbara got dressed, grabbed her keys, and entered the elevator of the Clock Tower; hitting “G” took her down to the garage. It was a long way down, and light trickled through in hot flashes past the building’s interiors and windows. The light burned, and she shielded her eyes and nearly hissed in pain.

In the Garage she wheeled over to her van, which she affectionately called “The Prophet.” Barbara clicked a button on her wheelchair and the backdoors swung open, and a ramp slowly came down, allowing her to scoot herself in. The Profit was a work in progress. It had computers in the back, a test lab, and several other features including shields and offensive capabilities. What she was most proud of was the auto pilot and the way you drive it: all hands, no feet. She wasn’t much of a mechanic, so the fact that she was able to get it to work made her unreasonably happy. The garage door opened up and the light burned through, Barbara at the very least was thankful that most of it was cut since she used the darkest tint on her windows. Probably not too smart for night time driving, but she would work on a heads up display which allowed her to see in the dark. It’s a work in progress.

The bright light was giving Barbara a headache; it had been so long since she’s seen any real form of sunlight. The florescence and glow of her computer screens didn’t count. She already felt the bridge of her nose getting sunburned. One hour to go. It was more than enough to get to Wayne Manor.

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Bruce managed to make it downstairs and tucked into his breakfast. Now he was awake, he was glad that Alfred stuck to his guns and forced him out of bed. Bruce rarely got any time to himself and even rarer were the days when he was able to see family members outside of the office. The same could probably be said for Barbara, who worked tirelessly at her computer screen day in and day out. A nice time away from work would do the both of them good. Bruce finished off his breakfast and then he went into his gym and began to train. He started with a 30 minute jog and then ended on a 30 minute Kata training on a training dummy.

When he finished, the ever present Alfred stood at the door with a towel and a fresh set of clothes. Bruce took them both with a smile and headed into the changing room, emerging shortly freshly dressed and ready for the day. Alfred had chosen for Bruce a simple black, long-sleeved shirt and matching coloured trousers for him to wear.

"If I may sir, what do you have planned for your day with Miss Gordon?" Alfred enquired.
Bruce froze as he realised the answer to the question...
"... I don't know Alfred," he replied, "I've been so wrapped up in the Falcone Money Laundering case that I completely forgot about this."

For a moment, Bruce stood there as he racked his brains on what to do when Alfred reached into his pocket and pulled out two pieces of paper.

"I took the liberty of making arrangements sir," he said, "Tickets for the bowling alley. They have made special arrangements for Miss Gordon's mobility so it is not a disadvantage. You're welcome."

Bruce smiled at Alfred and took the tickets, letting out a sigh of relief.

"Alfred, I don't know what to say..." he began.

"Worry not Master Wayne, your appreciation is obvious. Just promise me one thing..."

"Anything." Bruce replied.

"Leave Batman here. Go out as Bruce Wayne and come back as Bruce Wayne."

Bruce nodded and placed a hand on Alfred's shoulder. This was why Bruce considered Alfred his surrogate father.

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Light still burned into the hacker's retinas, squinting she continued on with her drive until she made it past North Gotham. By this time, her eyes were adjusting and it wasn't until today she realized she needed to go out more. That or invest in transition glasses. They looked neat.

The Prophet rolled up into Wayne Manor's cul-de-sac and parked along the wall. The back doors opened and the ramp pulled out, Barbara rolled down and hit the button to return the van back to it's defensive position and locked down. She sighed looking upon the enormous mansion, filling her with memories of the good old days. Wheeling herself to the side of the stairs, she was thankful that Bruce had installed ramps as far as the eye could see so the entire estate would be wheelchair friendly. Even the Batcave--which she rarely visited--had ramps and slopes installed. Bruce was too kind for his own good.

When Barbara reached the door, she noticed there were two doorbells, one for a normal height, and another that was at her level. Jesus, he went all out since her last visit. Pressing the doorbell, she wheeled back a bit to give the door a wide berth, despite knowing that Alfred would never be so careless. A little part of her bubbled in excitement, the other part tried to hold it back.

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Half an hour later, Alfred had driven them to the bowling alley and Bruce was ready to forget about his troubles. The alley attendant was a young lady whose mouth dropped when she saw the handsome Bruce Wayne ask for a size 8 bowling shoe, and she was more than happy to let Bruce and Barbara stay for as long as they wanted.
This was nice. Bruce spent so much time fighting for Gotham that he had completely forgotten about what it was like during the day. Sitting down, tying his shoes, Bruce looked up at Barbara and asked...

"So do you want me to push you whilst you aim and bowl?"

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The need for shoes sometimes eluded Barbara at times, as she watched Bruce put his on. It was surreal; they never really ever hung out before, and now it was like they were teenagers in high school. A pitcher of beer, a plate of wings and fries, and of all things: bowling. Like most sports, you need your legs for a running start, and the obnoxious wheelchair made it hard to swing the already heavy ball. “I don’t have any handles on my wheelchair, Bruce.” Barbara said with a bitter tone, picking up a pink ball, and wheeling over to the lane. “It’s because I don’t like being pushed.” The redhead did the best she could and rolled her ball down the isle, knocking down eight of the ten pins set up. She turned over to Bruce, her chair still facing the lane, “Not bad for a cripple, huh?” she asked cocking her head and beaming at him.

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Bruce watched as Barbara bowled and scored a decent eight out of ten pins. Bruce didn't have the heart to point out that she was left with a 7-10 split. Bruce smiled at Barbara as she started to brag.
"You've got many names Barbara," Bruce said, "But cripple isn't one of them."
Ever since she had been told the news that she would never walk again, Barbara didn't let it from stopping her from progressing in whatever she wanted to do. She went from strength to strength, adding to her already impressive knowledge of computing in order to help out Bruce and the family. The result was that Batman couldn't do without her in the fight against crime.

"Now then, let's see what you make of this..." Bruce said, gesturing toward the 7-10 split.
One of Barbara's greatest strengths was her determination and her ability to come up with innovative solutions to problems. So what solution would she come up for this current dilemma?

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Barbara wheeled over to the dispenser as her pink ball came through the hole. It was probably the hardest set up, that only pro-bowlers could take, the last two pins on opposite sides from each other. The only way to take them out is to make one pin hit the other, it required strength and speed, to throw the ball fast enough that it would hit the pin hard enough to bounce against the other. “Oh, trust me Bruce,” Barbara said placing her bowling ball into her lap and wheeling over to the lane, “I’ve come to terms about my handicap. While I appreciate the sentiment, it won’t mean I’ll get up from my chair.” Barbara rolled the ball down as hard as she could, aiming for the left most pin. The ball rolled down the lane and merely knocked the single pin down.

Only a little disappointed in her last roll, she shrugged and rolled back to let Bruce strike it out. “You don’t have to go easy on me. We’re here to have fun.” Barbara smiled at the billionaire with genuine happiness. “By the way, how have you been holding up? Any interesting cases you’ve been working on?” She asked in confidence that their private session wouldn’t be eves dropped.

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Barbara did not get the coveted strike she needed but it didn't look like she was too disappointed. Bruce took a plain black bowling ball and waited for the pins to reset. Barbara asked about the cases he was working on, confident that no-one would overhear. Bruce smiled at the question as he took aim at the pins and bowled. The bowling ball shot from his hand and travelled down the lane with enough speed and force to knock down every last pin.

"I made a promise to Alfred not to discuss work," Bruce said, "But I've been holding up alright... there's never a dull moment. How about you Barbara, how have you been keeping?"

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“Lately,” Barbara said pulling up to their table, “it’s been the only thing in my life.” The redhead poured herself a mug and turned to face Bruce. “I know you’re not that much of a talker and all—being the brooding vengeance of the night and everything—but I know you’re much more capable of being empathetic than anything else. You just don’t know how to show it.” The former Batgirl took a sip of the golden beer and then rested the mug on her lap, awaiting his second ball, which was obviously going to be a double strike, then a turkey. Maybe she could just tell the future, maybe she was good at predicting. Maybe the Oracle gig was rubbing off on her.

“I mean, I guess I’m beginning to understand what it’s like doing hero stuff for a living. Before as Batgirl, it was more like a part time job. Now, I’m not running for congress, and I’m not working at the library, I’m not even going out anymore.” Barbara only stopped to wet her mouth with more alcohol before finishing her thought. “Work has been the only thing on my mind.”

Looking down at her drink, the foam collecting around the edges swished around and revealed her reflection looking down into it. A reflection of a worn girl, who gave everything she had. “It still haunts me at night. Every time I answer the door. I bought a house right outside of Amusement Mile. I haven’t been to it in months because the mailman rings the doorbell. It’s disconcerting that one man can take away everything from me, and I don’t like talking about but it’s been this looming cloud over my head for the last few weeks or so.”

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Bruce listened as Barbara told him of her worries and insecurities. From what she was saying, it sounded as if Barbara was suffering from the early stages of PTSD. Bruce could relate to The Joker's deeds being in her head all the time. Whenever he surfaced, The Joker caused chaos wherever he went and left a trail of bodies for Batman to follow. The second bowling ball came in but Bruce had lost all interest in bowling for now. He sat down beside Barbara and placed a friendly hand on her shoulder. When she was shot, Bruce blamed himself for the longest of times. He brought her into his world and exposed her to the dangers... and she paid the price. It was Alfred who helped him out of his dark spiral... Alfred. Bruce promised him that he wouldn't talk about anything related to The Batman today but now it seemed that was promise he couldn't keep.

"Barbara," Bruce said, "It's OK to feel what you're feeling. What happened to you was horrific and I've never forgotten it either. There may be some things that are more difficult for you to achieve right now, but I've seen how strong you are. I want you to know that Tim, Dick, Alfred and I are here for you. If you want someone outside of the group to speak to, I can ask Leslie to help you. But I know that no matter what path you take, you will find your strength again. I know that."

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”I’ve already had a year’s worth of physical therapy, and I’m still going.” Barbara said, looking up to her second father figure. It was strange, after being orphaned from her genetic father, moving to Gotham and becoming part of Jim’s family it was like her family was only growing. Still, it seemed that only Jim and Bruce were the only ones around to help her on her proverbial feet. ”I don’t need to have my legs working again, Bruce. I just need some time. I think I finally found something I’m happy with doing.”

The redhead took a sip of her drink to wet her mouth, and let the bitterness of the alcohol linger on for a few moments. It reminded her of when she first turned twenty-one, she was out on patrol that night with Dick and despite her best judgment, and she wanted to go out for drinks after they were done. He wasn’t of age yet, and Barbara wasn’t much of a drinker, she just thought that’s what twenty-one year olds did. That was three years ago, only a few months after she lost the ability to walk. She sighed briefly, and forced a smile at Bruce. ”I’ll be okay, Bruce. Thanks for taking me out.”