DISCLAIMER: If I owned Birds of Prey, it would still be on the air.

I'm not satisfied with the ending of this one, so I apologize for that, but otherwise it was a lot of fun to write. I suppose this would be a good time to mention that I don't have a beta for my stories, so any errors are all my own.

Reviews get Helena Pop-Tarts. :3

"Hey, kid," Helena calls, and I'm not really sure I want to look up after the mood she's been in all day. But I do anyways, because she's my big sister—well, you know—and she doesn't sound angry, so chances are I'll come out of this conversation intact. I glance away from my math assignment to where she's standing on the upper level, a towel slung over her shoulder from her workout and covered in a light sheen of sweat.

"What?"

"You finished with your homework?" she asks, walking downstairs, which is a bit odd because she can and normally will vault right over the railing without bothering to use the staircase.

"Um…..almost. Why?"

"I have someone I want to introduce you to."

I glance at my watch. "At eight o'clock at night?"

Helena grins. "You've been spending way too much time with Barbara."

Barbara would get one of those 'I can still kick your ass in this chair' looks if she were here, but as luck would have it, she's gone all week in Austin for an English teachers' convention, which means Helena gets to babysit me. Not that it bothers me; I love Helena to death, but come on. I'm sixteen years old and able to lift a two-ton bus with my mind. I think I could handle myself for a few days in the Clocktower….well, as long as Alfred's here. Helena is right; Barbara must photosynthesize or something, because there's never any food in the fridge and Helena hogs all the Pop-Tarts. But anyways, when I told Barbara I don't need to be looked after, she went into Overprotective Mom mode and I ended up sitting through a ten-minute lecture on how I of all people should know how dangerous New Gotham is for a young girl. Hence Helena graciously agreeing to forgo her crappy flat for a week and stay here instead. (Her words, not mine; she admits the place is a dump.)

I laugh. "Hel, it's a school night. She'd kill me if I went off to meet some girlfriend of yours and ditched my homework."

Helena gets the oddest look in her eyes, and I feel a spike of some sharp emotion, also unidentifiable, radiate from her before the rein she always has on her feelings comes back into place. "Trust me, Dinah, Barbara won't mind."

Usually I'd be suspicious that she's acting this strange, especially after Harley Quinn, but right before Barbara left I overheard her apologizing for being gone on this particular week. Helena had shrugged it off, saying it was fine, but I've been wondering about it for a few days now and whether it has to do with why Hel is so off. I could easily find out, but I respect her far too much to invade her privacy unless absolutely necessary. "….well, all right," I say finally, getting the sensation of jumping into a pool without knowing the depth of the water. "But if we're out all night, I expect you to call me out of school."

Helena heads for the shower with nothing more than a smile—no parting crack or jibe, and that's when I get the feeling that whatever is going on, it's pretty monumental. Briefly I wonder at my own sanity for whatever we're getting into, but isn't that what superheroes do? Jump in over their heads?

I hope so, because this is probably going to end up being one of the dumbest things I've ever done. And that's saying something.

I'm thoroughly confused.

After leaving the Clocktower, Helena drove the Hummer to a small floral shop a few block away, went in and came out with a bouquet of Tiger Lilies and one rose. She handed them to me when she got back into the car, and I figured out a long time ago that if Helena doesn't want to talk, we're not talking. So I just took them and tried to figure out where in the hell we're going as the city flashes by outside my window. And I do mean flashes—Helena drives fast. Like The Flash fast.

As soon as we pull onto the road that leads to New Gotham Cemetery, it hits me. Of course. Only one thing could have Helena acting so moody and irritable all week, and it certainly explains the flowers. But why would this particular week be different? It's not the night Joker struck; I remember that date vividly—hell, sometimes I have the same nightmare that led me here, or flashback, if you want to call it that.

My musings are interrupted when Helena kills the engine and takes the keys out of the ignition. She doesn't say a word, and although I can tell she's trying to keep herself in check, I still catch flashes of feeling: Grief, guilt, anxiety and the remnants of a burning hatred. She sits there for a moment, and I ask softly, "Do you want me to wait in the car for you?"

"No." Helena's voice is strong and sure as she shakes her head. "No, I….I want you to meet her." She opens the door and gets out, and I hear her boots crunch on the gravel road. I follow, making sure not to drop my cargo, and as she comes around to my side of the car she silently takes the flowers from me before turning to walk up the path. I fall into step behind her, feeling a little nervous—I don't like graveyards much, which is almost kind of funny after all the scrapes I've gotten into with Helena and Barbara, but for some reason an acid-spitting metahuman doesn't freak me out nearly as much as zombies do. Go figure.

It only takes a few minutes before Helena turns into a row on the left and walks past three or four headstones before stopping at a gleaming white one. A tremor ripples through her body, and slowly I move to stand beside her, my eyes reading the name inscribed on the marker even though I've known what it would be ever since we turned in here.

Selina Kyle.

Slowly Helena crouches and puts the lilies and the rose on the ground before lifting a hand to trace her mother's name with her fingertips. A lump rises in my throat as I watch her; her movements are almost aching with sadness, and it reminds me that I never got to bury my mom—we couldn't find her body after the explosion. I push that thought away. I'm here for Helena right now, and as I watch her exhale in a shuddering rush of air before sitting, hugging her knees and letting her back rest against Selina's gravestone, I slowly begin to realize why she really wanted me to come tonight.

Helena tilts her head back and watches the clouds cross the moon overhead. Slowly, knowing all too well her infamous temper, I sit down next to her and gently lean my head on her shoulder. We stay like that for a while before she starts to talk in a low voice, never taking her eyes off of the sky. "She'd have really liked you. Probably would have given you grief over the whole 'bird-cat thing' if she'd known who you were, but…" A soft laugh escapes her lips.

"Tell me about her," I say quietly, knowing that her emotional defenses are slowly lowering as I begin to catch glimpses of memories all involving a beautiful blonde-haired woman. Helena exhales again, and to my surprise I feel one of her arms slip around my shoulders before she starts to speak.

"She had a wicked sense of humor. She was crazy and dangerous, but in a way that made you want to follow her anywhere just to get in on the fun. I don't think we ever had a fight that lasted more than a few hours; I hated making her upset and she couldn't stand me being angry with her." I hear a tiny smile in Helena's voice as she continues. "My mom almost never called me by name; I was her little kitten, and Barbara was either 'little bat' or 'baby bat'. I always wondered why she chose bat names for Barbara, but whenever I asked, Mom just laughed and said it was a long story and she'd explain one day. She never got the chance…but now I know." She draws me closer, and even though I'm trying to respect her privacy, the walls are completely down and I can see everything running through her mind. My breath catches in my throat as I feel how much Helena loved her mom, how much she still misses her and how much she wishes…

"You wanted it to be you."

I don't even realize the words have left my mouth until Helena's grip on my shoulder grows painful. I wince but don't say anything, and after a few minutes her answer comes in a tortured whisper that breaks my heart.

"Every damn day."

I turn and hug her fiercely, wishing my touch telepathy worked both ways so I could send her all the love I feel for her. "I'm glad it wasn't you," I mumble against the collar of her jacket. "And so is Barbara. We need you, Helena."

Her head leans against mine, and a moment later I feel her beginning to shake. Something wet lands on my hair, like the first raindrop before a storm, and reading Helena's emotions I can tell that's exactly what it is. As we sit there and she silently cries, I feel lucky—lucky that she trusts me enough to open up and let me see the pain that I know she's been living with for the past seven years. I know that's why she brought me with her tonight. She's trying to let me in, to be less Huntress and more Helena. It means more than I could ever tell her.

I've lost track of time when Helena's breathing finally evens out, changing from ragged sobs to shaky pants and then smoothing back to normal. She shifts position, and reluctantly I let her go, knowing that she can only take so much of what she deems "lovey-dovey crap". To my surprise, Helena takes my hand and climbs to her feet, gently tugging me up with her. She pauses, looking at me, and I feel a rush of gratitude emanate from her along with a warmth that tells me more than her words ever could. I smile softly at her, and the corner of her lips quirks up before she turns back to Selina's gravestone. Her free hand comes up to rest on the top of the smooth marble as she whispers, "Happy birthday, Mom."

"Hey, Babs." Helena's voice on the other end of the line is quiet and tired, and yet again Barbara curses the fact that the stupid convention fell on this particular week out of the fifty-two that the directors could have chosen from. "Sorry we weren't here when you called. I took the kid to see Mom."

"That's what Alfred told me," the redhead responds, managing to hide the complete and utter shock she'd felt when the butler had informed her where her young charges had gone. She pauses, not wanting to push Helena on today of all days. "Hel—"

"It's okay, Barbara. I wanted Dinah to come. She's an important part of our lives now, and….I know it's stupid, but….."

"No, it isn't," Barbara interrupts. "Selina was an important part of your life, and now Dinah is as well. It's only natural that you would want Selina to know her."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Helena yawns. "How's it going over there? Are you guys having fun talking about verbs and prepositions and all that other exciting stuff that only fuddy-duddy teachers give a shit about?"

Barbara rolls her eyes, but she's secretly relieved that Helena is joking with her. Normally on her mother's birthday, she reverted back to the shattered, angry teenager that Barbara had first taken in. "You're hilarious, Helena."

"I know." Helena pauses. "Hey, Barbara?"

"Yes?"

"I love you," the brunette whispers, and Barbara feels her mouth open slightly in shock. She can count on one hand, without using all five fingers, the number of times Helena has said that to her.

Swallowing past the sudden lump in her throat, Barbara answers in a slightly choked voice. "I love you too, Hel. Are…..are you all right?"

Helena lets out a long breath. "No. But I think maybe I will be."

It's the first sign of progress Barbara has seen in seven years.