So, this is something I've wanted to get published for a while, not entirely satisfied with the writing style (it's a bit immature and bland), so I'll probably end up rewriting it at some point, but let's see out it goes first.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of this, and if I did I wouldn't be worrying about scholarships. Also, I haven't watched either show for a while, so forgive me if some of the facts are wrong.

Barbara Gordan sighed as the sweet aroma of coffee wafted toward her face. Adding another healthy dollop of soft white, she stirred and took a small sip, glancing at her fellow redhead as she did.

Jazz Fenton was a reasonably nice, if not slightly eccentric girl. She had brains, beauty, and an over-abundance of college acceptance letters. Here in Gotham, though, she was yet another damsel who got leered at by the numerous creeps lining the street corners.

Which is why Barbara took it upon herself to make sure her friend was in good hands for the rest of her stay.

It was quite funny how they got together, actually. Beginning in her senior year, her humanities class required them to communicate with a student from out of state for a month, to expand their knowledge of 'people and their differing conditions throughout the country compared to Gotham', or something like that. She picked a name out of the box, and low and behold, she was paired with a "Jasmine Fenton", of some small town in Illinois.

Once they were past the pleasantries, communication somewhat pattered off. The teachers were expecting a report on their pen pal's area, so she grudgingly and dutifully fired off the basic "What's your school like?" "What classes do you take?" "What do you do in your spare time?" etc. in her first email (please, pen pal's with actual letters? What was this, the Stone Age?). Between her classes and her nighttime patrolling as Batgirl, she honestly didn't expect more than the barest, most basic answers. In fact, it had nearly slipped her mind.

Until she got a reply, two days later. A very lengthy reply. Filled with details and play-by-play examples and extremely (did she mention already) detailed analysis that bordered the psychological babble of Arkham. An extremely elaborate description of the school's social hierarchy (similar to her own, only more…expressive) included the general behaviors of each of the classes; jocks, preps, nerds, geeks, yadda-yadda-yadda. Notable was one Dash Baxter, whom she understood was the school bully, whose favorite punching bag was in fact her contact's younger brother. There were various other musings on possible reasons for his behavior, citing conditions such as superiority and inferiority complexes, possible agencies that could curb said behavior, and the life ahead of him if he didn't shape up.

It was…interesting. Barbara was hard put to match the reply in length, struggling to answer some of her contact's more specific questions (she hadn't paid that much attention on civilian behavior, since it wasn't nearly as notable as that of villains like Mad Hatter or Two face. Was it even important?). She guessed that this person had also been assigned a paper as well. She just hadn't imagined anyone could be so…excited, for a project like this.

Towards the end of the reply, there was a note. "P.S. – My friends call me Jazz" her contact wrote. Fine with her. Fingers flashing over the keys, she added her own message. "Call me Babs", she had typed.

Jazz had been ecstatic. Barbara received a reply twice as long as the first, this one including physical signs of mental conditions and thought process (various aspects of twitching, sweating, and flashing eyes were noted), as well as Jazz's own analysis of Barbara's peers.

Armed with her new knowledge, she managed to kick the trigger out of one of the Joker's hostages' hands before he let loose out of desperation, before anyone noticed he had a gun. Batman hadn't said anything, but she was pretty sure she'd heard a grunt of approval. Dick certainly hadn't stopped pestering her on "how'd you know?".

She included this experience in her reply, with a bit of editing, of course. Stopping a…a freshman, yes, from…from throwing a punch back at a bully, that sounds like it would fit…which would have resulted in both their expulsions. Maybe the 'freshman' was feeling cornered, and therefore lashed out, like a wounded animal, she typed, keyboard clicking away before a dainty pinky hit ENTER.

Jazz agreed, adding that physically acting out could have been the freshman's way of regaining control in his life, as his mentality may have been slipping with each beating incident. She then asked whether the freshman had shown signs of previous victimizations, listing off the symptoms line after line; increased make-up usage (for bruises), more extreme behavior (like OCD or extreme disorganization, tardiness, etc.), a sudden jumpiness in the hallways with fewer people around. Finally, she asked if the freshman was seeing a psychiatrist or school counselor yet.

Barbara felt bad for concocting the story, as this 'Jazz' person actually seemed to care for her made-up victim's wellbeing. Well, he wasn't completely made-up. She resolved to check up on the victim later.

She replied. "He hasn't seen a counselor yet. In fact, it seems like he's trying to forget the incident ever happened".

Batman was slightly surprise (not that it showed) when she asked him who the victim was. He obliged, though, and nothing else stood in the way of her reconnaissance, both in person and online.

She happened to leave some of Jazz's other questions unanswered. Bab's figured her role as a bystander-turned-hero gave enough of an excuse not to know the guy personally.

Jazz was not to be fooled. Instead of lowering the intensity of her questioning, she pressed on, asking other questions that Barbara probably could have answered, if she had been describing the real victim. Instead, her replied were muddled and vague, making Jazz all the more suspicious. Finally, she relented, saying that the freshman-bully situation was only an analogy to a more serious incident, that she would not be delving into (for the sake of both the victim and her secret identity).

Jazz stopped at that, and they moved onto calmer, safer topics. Apparently Jazz was a psychiatrist in training (like she couldn't figure that out), often finished her homework at the library, volunteered at a variety of clubs and events, and occasionally frequented the Nasty Burger, a fast food restaurant that in fact did serve edible and slightly nutritious foods. Barbara on the other hand revealed that she was interested in law and crime, would sometimes work with the police (if nighttime vigilanting counted), occasionally lived in the library, liked the color green, and disliked coconuts.

Somewhere along the way, they became friends.

"Babs, you okay?"

She snapped out of her musings. Wide blue eyes stared at her from across the table, filled with concern.

"Huh?" she replied intelligently. Jeez, Batman would go off again about immature girls and heroing if he ever caught her spacing out like that. Steam clouded her glasses, and she absently wiped them against her cotton tee.

The question finally registered. "Oh. No, I'm fine, I'm fine," she said, brushing off the concern with a wave. Jazz examined her a bit longer before giving a nod and returning to the newspaper, her own mug of coffee leaning against her bottom lip.

"Looks like Batman's getting more positive reception," Jazz commented, eyes scanning the news article and picking away at the verbal discrepancies of the journalists. Her mug landed with a soft *clink* on the table, freeing her hand to readjust her signature blue headband.

Barbara snorted. Oh yeah, the public kept changing its mind on the batclan every other week. It was mostly Batman this, and Batman that, but she could still see smatterings of Robin and Batgirl. It was so nice to feel loved.

She glanced at the clock. 10:30 am, the red numbers blazed. "Ready to go?" she asked, putting down her own mug. Jazz followed suit, and the two were soon out the door, bags over their shoulders. Barbara locked the door with a faint *click*.

If you wondered why some of the psychological stuff sounded familiar, try paying attention to your guidance counselor. Or your health teacher. I'm not going into psychology, and don't know the terms, so if you have any info, feel free to message me.