Batgirl Falling

A/N: I'm not good enough to write this story well, but I want to read it so…guess I'll do it anyway J This is a sequel to Forbidden and it will help (a lot) if you've read The Killing Joke. I'm citing it here because I'm lifting dialogue directly from it's pages. Not much and only in these first two chapters, but this is my citation. (Alan Moore I'm still broken up with you!)

Chapter 1

"Hi Colleen," Barb said into the phone as she heard her dad come in. "Right, 8 O'clock."

"Do you want to drive tonight?" Colleen's voice asked into her ear.

"What?" Barb asked, distracted by the oven timer going off. "No, no would you mind picking me up?"

"No problem. See you then!" Barb was already hanging up and moving towards the kitchen. Why did she cook lasagna tonight? Why did she think she could cook lasagna?

"Smells good Barbara," her dad told her as she crossed the living room into the kitchen.

"Thanks Dad." She opened the oven door and pulled the dish out, a small frown on her face. It wasn't near as pretty as Alfred's, but she thought it was still edible. She set the pan on top of the stove her mind drifting while she set the table.

She'd spent more nights with Bruce than without recently. They'd caught the Joker and put him away again. But he'd already made his escape. Again. When they weren't in costume-a blush suffused her cheeks as she thought of just what they had been doing out of costume. In the cave, in his room-they tried once in the Batmobile but she'd kicked the gear shift and hit some button with her ass that nearly launched the rockets at downtown. But it had been good. It had been great in fact, and had already lasted much longer than Barb thought possible. After all, how long could Bruce really be happy with anyone?

She bit her lip and pushed that thought away. Seemed like she'd been doing that for weeks now, fighting her own ghosts; Bruce would break up with her soon enough, she didn't need to anticipate it. The lasagna pan slipped in her grip, nearly crashing onto the table.

"God dammit," Barb cursed at herself quietly.

"What was that?" her dad called from the other room.

"Nothing Dad," she replied sweetly. She smiled ruefully at the beaten down table in the kitchen and pushed her thoughts of Bruce out of her head. As she picked up the knife and cut the lasagna she willed herself to think only about things she could share with her dad. This was their night; she had worked hard to ensure they both had time to share a meal together and she was going to make damned sure they enjoyed it.

"Dinner's ready!" she announced. As her dad came around the corner she pasted a smile on her face and sat down to eat.

An hour later they had eaten, washed up, and pulled out her dad's scrapbook for some new additions. Barb could hear him mumbling to himself while she poured boiling water into two mugs and stirred in the chocolate.

"What Dad?" she asked, putting the mugs on trays.

"I hate this. Whenever we jail him, I think "please God, keep him there." Then he escapes and we all sit round hoping he won't do anything too awful this time." Jim Gordon paused, scissors forgotten in his hand for an instant while he stared unblinking at the newspaper. "I hate it."

Barb sighed as she set the tray down on the coffee table. The Joker had escaped again-that was something she absolutely didn't want to think about right now. She just wanted these few hours to relax, to enjoy spending time with her father.

"Dad, just once could you leave your work at the office and relax? I made you cocoa." She was going to have to head back to the cave later. They would need to start another hunt for the Joker.

"Thank you sweetheart. I'll drink it when I've pasted this latest clipping in," her dad told her.

"Y'know, I found that Catwoman scrapbook you said was missing. It was behind the wardrobe," Barbara gently chided. "Some day you ought to let me work out a proper filing system, like we used at the library."

Her father's only response was a noncommittal sound as he devoted all of his attention to the clipping, slathering in paste.

"Urrgh. Look, you've used too much paste!" Barbara told him. "It's all squidging under the edges of the clipping. You're going to get it on your pants."

Her dad studiously ignored her as he smoothed the newspaper onto the scrapbook paper.

"Barbara, you're fussier than your mother wa…" a knock interrupted him.

"Was that the door?" he asked. Barbara picked up her cocoa and headed towards the door. Was it 8 already? She wouldn't have time for yoga tonight, not with the Joker loose. She'd have to find someway to beg off without her dad hearing.

"Yeah," Barb answered finally answered him. "It'll be Colleen from across the street. Tonight's our yoga class. C'mon Dad, company! Put your scrapbooks away."

Jim Gordon didn't answer, lost in memory. "Heh, look at this one. First time they met. Now what year was that?"

It felt like the Joker had always been in her life, destroying it, but Barb forced a grin as she reached the door, turning back towards her father.

"Well, I remember you describing the white face and the green hair when I was a kid. Scared the hell out of me," she told him.

"I thought you'd be interested…" her dad said quietly.

"Yeah, well, I had some interesting nightmares," Barb told him opening the door. He would never know the nightmares from reality had been so much worse.

She stood in front of the door dumbly, her brain not processing what she saw. Outside-he had a gun-how was he at her house? How did he know? A shot tore through the air. Barb felt like something punched her in the gut and she was flying backwards, coffee cup falling from her hand. It was going to stain the carpet-that was a stupid thing to think about just then.

The coffee table exploded as she crashed into it and then there was only pain, her hands clutching futilely at her stomach. She had to get up, save her dad. The Joker was there, at her door. He'd kicked her? No, that wasn't right. Why couldn't she get up? There was only the pain, tears running down the side of her face as her body tried to process what was happening. Why hadn't she stopped him? Why…

"Barb?" her dad whispered above her, but then he was gone. She could hear…him…that psychopath laughing, her dad's grunts as he was hit over and over again. Why couldn't she get up? What was wrong with her? What was wrong with her body?

The Joker came into her line of vision, his sneering visage the only thing she could see. He reached down and started unbuttoning her blouse, and she couldn't stop him. She couldn't move her hands away from the burning pain in her abdomen. Had to keep pressure, had to…

As slimy white hands caressed her breasts, pushing at her bra Barb felt something break inside her. She couldn't move. She couldn't stop the Joker, couldn't save her dad. All of her training, all of her years on the streets by Bruce's side and now-not like this, she thought. Not like this.

"Why are you…duh..doing..this?" she gasped through the pain.

"To prove a point. Here's to crime," he toasted her as he ripped the shirt off her body.