Her life was never going to be the same. Her father's body that was being hoisted onto the stretcher made that fact clear. Her mother was climbing into the ambulance along side him as they lifted him into the back of the vehicle. Her mother looked over the shoulder at her, and said, something to a policeman, gesturing to her.

She didn't pay attention as the policeman directed her into the backseat of his car, and drove after the ambulance. The only thing she could think about was how of all the people for this to happen to, her father was one of the last people who deserved it.

Her father had been, and still was, the best aim she had ever seen. He was also the greatest man she had ever known. He could take a Colt 45 apart blind folded, she had watched him do it once. He could then put it back together... not blindfolded, but pretty fast. He used to be a soldier too, a marine. He would often make jokes about being a jarhead, she often joked about being an army brat at school.

Her father wasn't a marine anymore thought, instead of firing a weapon at the enemy, he dusted them off, and put them on shelves after putting a price tag on them.

He had a lot of customers, some of them not to honest, and some of them just trouble. Her fathers weapon shop was in the slums of Gotham, so of course he had more than his fair share of criminals. However, her father stood firm. No weapons license, no weapons.

That didn't stop people who worked for two-face, who had easy access to fake ID's and licenses.

Her mother was a different story entirely. She was a gymnast, she taught a small class to anyone who was interested. Adults, teenagers, children, all of them. She didn't get much pay, but it was something she liked doing. She taught her too. She had inherited her mother's natural balance, and her superior flexibility.

They had a happy life together. The girl loved learning gymnastics from her mother, and all about weapons from her father. When she got older, she wanted to take over her father's weapon shop. She already knew enough about weapons to be able to handle a fight between thugs. She wanted to make sure other people had weapon to be able to handle a fight between thugs too.

Then, disaster happened in the life of Kimberly Mathilda.

FLASHBACK, KIMBERLEY'S POINT OF VEIW:

I smiled as I came home from school, walking into my dad's weapon's shop. "Hey dad." I said.

He smiled at me from behind the counter, "Hey Kimmy, how was school?"

"OK I guess." I said, shrugging. I stood across from him on the other side of the counter, "Anything new come in today?"

He smiled at me, and reached behind the counter, he knew how much I liked new weapons, and learning to use them. "Friends of mine found these after Batman stopped a bank robbery, thought I'd be interested. Well, I'm not, but I know your just itching to figure out these ones."

He pulled out a card board box, and handed it to me, I pulled the lid off, and gasped at what was inside. There were about five Batarangs in the box. "Whoa! how did he get these?"

"After Batman stopped the robbery, he found the Batarangs he had used. Instead of handing them over to the police, he sent them to me." He answered.

I took one out, and held it up to the light, inspecting it. "Pop Quiz." Dad said, "tell me about the Batarang."

"Well, it's light enough to throw, making it a great form of a throwing knife, but it's solid to, it can be used in a knife fight and it would hold it's own." I analyzed.

"Good job, now let's see you hit that bulls eye over there." He gestured to the target we had handing up on the wall. Dad always tested the new equipment before he sold it, so he had hung a target on the wall for testing. Actually, I think it's just because Dad loves throwing stuff at red circles, but I could be wrong.

I turned towards the target, and tossed the batarang up and down a few times, trying to get the feel of it. I smiled once I had, and then gripped one end in between two fingers, and then projected it at the target. A *clunk* was heard as it hit dead center.

I turned to Dad smiling, he chuckled, "Well, I'd say you could give Robin a run for his money Kim."

I chuckled, "I really doubt that."

"Oh really?" asked my mother as she came in from the back. "Why do you say that?"

"Because, he's a kick butt black belt, scratch that, the dude's a freaking' ninja!" I said,

flailing my arms out.

Dad chuckled, "You could just flip right over him, like you do on the balance beam couldn't you?"

I rolled my eyes, "I wouldn't get a chance Dad! His batarang would take me out before I even took three steps."

"Your pretty good at dodging my knives when I throw them at you." Dad argued.

Mom gasped, "What?"

"Don't worry!" I shouted quickly, "He uses the show knives, the ones that don't have an edge."

"Why?" She asked, calming down.

"Well, incase she ever needs to defend herself, I don't want our kid to be killed to easily, actually, I don't want her to be killed at all." He said, chuckling.

"Anyway!" I interrupted, "I guess I might actually stand a small chance, but if it get's hand to hand, I'm dead."

Dad chuckled, "Whatever you say Kim."

Mom suddenly grabbed my wrist, and peeled my sleeve back, revealing several bruises, "What happened Kim?" she said, freaking out.

"Well... I got into a small fight on the way home." I mumbled.

"Over what?" Asked Dad, walking over to the target and pulling the batarang down.

"I beat a boy at one on one basket ball, and because he lost to a girl, he lost his pride, on the way home, he decided to try and get it back by beating me up." I explained.

Mom gasped, "what?"

Dad took the box of batarangs from me, and put the one he had retrieved back in, before closing it. "Did you hit him back?"

"Yeah, I broke his nose. Then they all got really scared." I said.

"Wow!" he exclaimed, "My daughter's a scrapper!"

"George!" Mom protested, "We don't encourage violence in this house."

"Your right honey, I'm sorry." Dad said, Mom turned around to dust off a shelf, and Dad high fived me, and mouthed, 'good job!'

Mom went into the back, and dad sat behind the counter, "Kim, I'm having an important customer come by tonight, I thought since it is Friday night, you might want to stay up and meat him."

"Who is he?" I asked.

"He's a man that needs me to give him some information on one of my customers that might have bought a weapon from me with a fake license." Dad answered.

"He's a cop?" I asked, excited.

"No," Dad said, chuckling. "but your close, here's a hint, his name starts with B."

I thought a long time "I got nothing."

"B...A...T...M-"

"BATMAN!" I shouted, jumping a little.

Dad laughed, "Yep, me and your mom found him right were your standing last night, at first I was a little spooked, but then he explained he needed my help with a case. So over the week, I contacted my old client, told him that I mixed up his order, and asked him to fill out some forms so I could find it. He did. Now, Batman's going to come for the information he gave me on the forms."

"But he could have just lied and wrote something completely false on the paper, right?" I asked.

"True, but the information isn't what he's after, it's his handwriting, and the DNA he left on the pen and paper." Dad said triumphantly.

"How, your just as slick as the Caped Crusader himself Dad!" I said. "I was wondering..."

"Yes?"

"Do we get to wear costumes?"

LATER THAT NIGHT:

Me and dad sat up, in regular clothes, much to my disappointment, waiting for the caped crusaders to walk in the door, until they finally did. My heart must have given out when I saw Batman pull up in the bat mobile, and walk up to the store, Robin at his side.

They looked even cooler in real life than on the TV! Batman said, "Good evening George..." He trailed off as he saw me sitting on the counter. Robin looked at me too, he was younger than I'd thought he'd be.

He was a little taller than me, black hair, and he was really, really, really cute... really cute. His costume had changed over the years, instead of the small green shorts, he had red pants. He looked about my age, sixteen.

Batman turned back to me dad, aggravation clear in his eyes, "I did say not to tell anyone about this."

Dad rubbed the back of his neck. "Well... I-"

"He didn't tell me." I interrupted, trying not to make it look like Dad hadn't listed to Batman, "I figured it out. He left the evidence he gathered out on the counter, and I... well, you get the picture."

Dad shot me a grateful look, one that I'm sure Batman didn't miss. However, he let the matter drop, "Did you get it?"

"Sure did," Dad said happily, "He never suspected a thing, just signed the papers, and left. Leaving me with the pen with his DNA on it."

Dad went to get the box with everything in it, and I looked back to Robin to see he was still looking at me. He didn't seem fazed that I had caught him looking at all. "So, your his... kid?"

"Yep, why?"

"You don't look much like him." he said, rubbing the back of his head.

"I take after my mother in the looks department, however, I do take after him in the weapon skills department." I said, smiling proudly.

Robin gave a short laugh, "Yeah right! I bet you can't even hit that target over there." He said, jabbing his thumb at the wall where the target rested.

"I'll take that bet, what weapon do you want me to use?" I asked, confidently.

"Don't you want to pick out the weapon your best at using?" He asked, a little confused, "Wouldn't it give you a better chance at winning?"

"Dude, any weapon in this shop that you pick, I'll be able to hit that target dead center with. That in mind, just pick the weapon already." I said, sliding down from the counter and crossing my arms. I had to look up at him, which aggravated me to no end.

He looked around the shop, then smirked, and pulled out a batarang, "Hit it with this." He said, holding it out to me.

I shook my head, and pulled the box of batarangs from behind the counter, "I've got my own, thanks."

I pulled off the lid, and took one out. His eyes widened "how did you-"

"Trademark secret." I said, silencing him. I turned to the target, and shot the batarang at the target, Robin's mouth fell open at the bulls eye. "Shocked?" I asked, teasing.

"How long did it take you to learn that?" He asked, looking at me.

"To throw a batarang?" he nodded, "Less than a minute, no joke."

He raised an eyebrow, and I continued, "They don't differ much in use from the normal throwing knifes i use here in the shop. I've been using those since I was eight."

"Your dad let you play with knives when you were eight?" He asked, skeptical.

"Let me? He was the one who taught me! You should have seen his face when I hit my first bulls eye, he was more excited than me. He started calling all his friends, bragging about it to any of his customers who'd listen, it was the most embarrassing week of my life." I complained, retrieving the batarang, and dropping it in the box.

Robin laughed, "I'll bet it was. Wait... it lasted for a week?"

"Yep."

"Did not!" protested dad, who finally found the box and brought it out. He handed it to Batman, who hadn't said a word. Dad turned to Robin "It... lasted six days."

We both laughed at that. Batman cleared his throat, "We should get going, thank you for this George."

"No problem, you've been keeping everyone in Gotham safe for years, it's about time we started helping." Dad said, I nodded.

Batman turned to leave, and Robin started to follow, then looked over his shoulder, and gave me a wink. I couldn't help but blush a little at that. That's when I noticed it, he had

green eyes.

FLASHBACK ENDS, KIMBERLEY'S POINT OF VEIW:

I slowly got out of the car as the policeman parked in front of the hospital and just stood off to the side as they rolled my father into the hospital. I waited half an hour after they had gone in to follow. I asked the nurse where they had taken him, and she gave me the number, giving me a pity filled glance.

I ignored it, I didn't need anyone's pity. I walked to the room, and slowly opend the door. Dad was lying in bed, his head bandaged, an IV in his arm, and he was hooked up to a heart monitor.

I sat outside of his room, waiting for the doctor to come out and tell me what was going on, or for Mom to come out and tell me what was going on.

The door opened as they both came out, and I stood up Mom stood next to me, facing the doctor. "What's going on?" She asked, apparently being in the room hadn't let her know what happened.

"Well... he took a blow to the head, and is cause a mild concussion." he said, "He's in a coma... it's unclear when, or if he'll wake up. If he does wake up, then he might suffer memory loss, he might not be able to speak very clearly because there damage to the area of his brain that deals with speech. He probably won't be able to leave the hospital for six months, even after he wakes up, if he does at all."

Mom put her face in her hands, and I asked, "Why do you keep saying if he'll wake up? He's going to wake up."

"Well, the possibility of him not waking up is about forty percent." He said.

Mom choked a little, and I could tell she was trying really hard not to cry.

"Yeah, well you don't know my dad." I sassed.

"Young lady, I know that your father might be-"

"No, no might be's Doctor." I said, crossing my arms, "My father was a marine, he's the toughest man I've ever known, and if I know one thing on God's green Earth, I know that My father doesn't go down that easily, if anyone can get through that, it's him."

Mom put a hand on my shoulder, "Kim, just stop... please."

I raised an eyebrow at her, before glaring, "You think he's not going to wake up too, don't you?" I accused. What was wrong with her, she knew Dad longer than me, she should know he didn't go down that easily.

"Kimberley, I don't know if he's going to wake up." She said.

The doctor said, "Now that we have him stabilized, I had the nurse look into your insurance, you don't have to coverage to afford this-"

"Then I'll take care of it." came a voice, I looked over my shoulder to see Bruce Wayne himself walk up, looking at the doctor.

Mom stared at him, tears ran out of her eyes "You will?"

He nodded, "Your husband seems like a nice man, I wouldn't be able to sleep if I didn't do something. Don't worry about the price, I'll make sure that your husband get's the best treatment we have, and it won't cost you a penny. Neither will the therapy when he wakes up."

I looked at him for a minute, then turned back to the doctor, "are we allowed to go in?"

He nodded, and me and mom walked in. Mom stood over at the wall, wiping her eyes, and putting on a brave face. I sat down in the chair next to the bed, and wrapped my hand around Dad's.

I just sat there for about thirty minutes, before saying really low so that no one would hear, "Dad, you've got to wake up. Someone's questioning that your going to pull through, and I know more than anyone that you've been through more than this. Please... wake up."

I gave his hand a squeeze, and then I was about to get up, when his eyes fluttered open, and he looked at me.

"Dad." I breathed, Mom walked over next to me, and Dad smiled.

"Bear." He said.

"What...?" I asked.

The doctor came in, and said, "Don't ask him to talk, what he needs right now is to rest, you two should probably go home."

Mom bit her lip, I knew what she was thinking, she wanted to stay with dad, but Someone needed to go home, watch the shop tomorrow... open the shop tomorrow even.

"I'll go home mom." I said. "You can stay here with Dad. I'll open up the shop tomorrow, and after hours are over I'll head over here in your car."

"Do you have a way to get home?" She asked, worried. We both had gotten rides here, I could get here tomorrow no problem, but getting home tonight would be a struggle.

"... Well... no-"

"I'll drive her." came Bruce Wayne's voice. he had walked into the room too apparently.

"Thanks." I mumbled, said goodbye to Mom and Dad, then followed Bruce Wayne as he lead me to his car.

He slowly drove me home, and I climbed out of his car in silence. I walked up to the front door, and took my key out of my pocket, putting it in the lock, and walking in, locking it behind me as Bruce drove away.

I walked through the small living area, before getting to my room, and curling up on my bed, hoping against hope that this was all a dream.