Before long, they turned onto a street lined with cars on both sides. Crowds of people who were dressed in what were probably custom made, thousand-dollar suits strolled towards the elaborate gated entrance. Even from where she sat, Barbara could see a dazzling array of colors twinkling beyond the gate and into the night. Music blared through the rolled down windows, shaking the car with its pulsating, instrumental rhythm. Sure, she didn't expect Bruce to be a fan of today's hits, but seriously? Classical music? This was a party, not a 19th-century masquerade ball.

After somehow squeezing into a parking space, they clambered out of the car-James having to help Barbara into the wheelchair while Pamela stood to the side, pouting. Though this place should be heaven for her, Pamela looked like she was in Hell, tortured by the bright neon lights shining all around her.

Even as they made their way towards the entrance, Pamela trailed behind as if she were stalling for time. And as much as Barbara hoped it was because she was having second thoughts about this whole marriage thing, something told her it had more to do with the man who planned this shower.

"Hey, Commissioner! It's about time you showed up!" A man all too familiar to Barbara grinned from against the pillared structure. "We all thought you'd gotten lost."

"Hey there, Harvey." James laughed as he shook the man's hand. "I'm surprised you managed to find the time to come with all your 'work'."

"You know I wouldn't miss this." His eyes shifted past James, lighting up like one of the decorative trees. "Ah, Pamela. You look as beautiful as ever."

With a smile, Pamela stepped forward into the center of the circle of men and wrapped her gloved arm around James. "Harvey. It's nice to see you too."

Barbara couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. Gone was the woman who couldn't seem to keep her eyes-and arms-off the D.A. Now, all her attention had been turned back to her fiancé, who was clearly loving it. With every man in the group practically drooling over Pamela, her father looked as proud as a peacock having such a stunning young woman at his side.

Yep. It was clear no man was immune to Pamela's looks or the sight of her in a low-cut gown. No man, that is, except for Bruce Wayne. Appearing with his own redhead beside him, he didn't so much as glance at her as he greeted the couple with a smile.

"Jim. Pamela. I'm so glad you could make it."

"How could we miss this?" James gestured to the display of elegance around him. "Seriously, Bruce. You really outdid yourself here. I don't even know how to begin to thank you."

"Yes," Pamela chimed in. "With the week you've had, it's a wonder you had time at all."

Bruce chuckled, though his eyes carried no hint of humor in them. "You've been a great friend, Jim. It's the least I could've done. Now, why don't we stop standing around and go see the rest of it?"

At the question, his gaze flickered to Pamela. "Jim told me you're a floral enthusiast, which is why I chose to have the shower here. I'll be honest. I don't know much about plants, but I hope you enjoy what I've put together."

Pamela's lips widened into a beaming smile, one so sweet it would melt any man's heart. "Oh, how thoughtful! I'm sure I'll love it."

"Then please, let me show you around." Bruce returned her grin, gesturing for the group to follow him. As soon as his back was turned, Pamela's smile fell, and she was back to glaring daggers at him.

In all her years visiting Gotham, Barbara had never set foot inside the botanical garden, having found it of no interest. And now, with blues and purples of all different shades captured in strings of light dangling from the willows around her, she felt no different. Once the initial wave of awe was over, Barbara thought this couldn't have been a bigger waste of time and money. Gotham was falling apart at the seams, and its wealthiest citizen had spent thousands of dollars to host a lavish party in a garden he owned.

God, rich people were so useless.

"Are you hungry?" Bruce led them to a canopy where a long table covered with food Barbara couldn't even pronounce was set up. "Please, go ahead. There's plenty to eat."

Seeing that everyone else was filling their plates, Barbara rolled forward and grabbed a handful of prawns onto her own. Though they had a slight kick to them, they were surprisingly pretty good. Barbara had never been a fan of fancy food, especially when she could get some McDonald's at a fraction of the price and double the quantity. But seeing how this wasn't coming out of her pocketbook, might as well fill up, right?

"You've got to try these, Pam." James offered her a bite of his chocolate eclair, to which Pamela refused.

"No, thank you, darling. I'm not hungry." She gave an apologetic smile.

"These are some of the finest meals prepared by only the best chefs in the world." Bruce sounded almost offended by her refusal to eat. "Please, Pamela. Try some cannoli." His nimble fingers lifted what looked to be an egg fried in batter. "Or perhaps, the Scotch egg."

He took a large bite out of it, barely even chewing before gulping it down. "I assure you, it's delicious."

Clenching her jaw, Pamela snatched up a slice of vanilla cake before taking a tentative bite and swallowing it whole. "Yes. It is delicious."

The grimace on her face said otherwise.

Before Barbara could watch this peculiar sight unfold any further, a figure appeared in front of her with a bulky camera wrapped around his neck.

"Smile!" he exclaimed as a bright flash temporarily blinded her.

"What the-" Barbara blinked. "Richard, what are you doing?"

"Just trying to capture the moment." He grinned from behind the lens. "And boy is there a lot to capture."

"I hope you mean this dog-and-pony show Bruce put on and not something else," Barbara said, noticing the way his eyes scanned her from head-to-toe.

Richard laughed. "What? You mean you're not impressed with this? He spent a lot of money, you know."

"Yeah, I know." She rolled her eyes at the already drunken party goers passing by. "But if it's a circus he wanted, he should've hired some clowns."

"Bruce hates clowns." He snickered. "And this is nothing like the circus. There's not enough elephant dung."

"As if you know what a circus is like," Barbara scoffed.

"Oh, but I do." He arched his brows and wriggled them. "I used to be in one. People used to flock from all over the country to see The Flying Graysons. And for good reason. You couldn't find a better acrobatic troupe anywhere else."

A sense of unease filled Barbara's stomach. Richard wouldn't be here unless something had happened to his family. Something terrible. "So then what happened?"

The smile on Richard's face faltered. "There was an accident at one of the shows... and I became an orphan. Just so happened Bruce was there, and he took me in. The rest is history."

"I'm so sorry. I never knew..." Her voice trailed off. She had never been good at comforting people. How do you even begin comforting someone after hearing something like this? She couldn't say she understood because she didn't, and she hated it when people said that to her.

So she did the only thing she could do. Pushing past whatever awkwardness might arise, she grabbed his freezing hand and took it in her own.

Richard must have not been expecting this since he snapped upright and gaped at their interlocked hands. "Hey, it's okay. It was a long time ago, anyway." A soft, reassuring smile appeared on his lips, one so warm it made the crisp October night feel like the middle of July.

Okay, that was enough of that. Before her hand could start sweating, she withdrew it and shifted her eyes to the side, suddenly interested in the couple dancing offbeat to Rick Springfield. "So, um, where have you been? There's only a week left until the wedding, and I've been going out of my mind-"

"Shh, it's okay. I know Bruce and I haven't been able to contact you, no thanks to your new nurse of course." He spun around from the canopy, a slight bounce in his step as he walked backward through the freshly trimmed lawn.

Realizing staying would mean continuing to get ignored for the rest of the night, Barbara followed Richard towards a glittering tunnel filled with hundreds of glowing blue bulbs. Her dad was too distracted with his pals to notice her gone anyway, and it's not like Pamela would care, seeing as she was too busy playing the future trophy wife.

But oh, how she underestimated just how spectacular this garden could be. As soon as she glided into the tunnel, an involuntary gasp left her lips. It was unlike anything she had ever seen. The lights twinkled like those of the brightest stars, making her feel like she was in some deep, unknown part of the universe. If magic truly did exist, it would be found here.

But even that was not enough to make her forget her sudden panic.

"Richard, do you know what happened?" she whispered as she watched the lights change to gold. "I was put in Arkham! And it was because of Bruce's stupid plan-"

"Barbara." His voice, like that of the softest piano key, silenced her. "Yes, I know what happened. Bruce told me. Which is why we're not going to involve you anymore. At least not directly."

She knitted her brows together. "What do you mean?"

"Everything will go down at the wedding. Pamela will finally be exposed and seen for the monster she truly is. But in order for that to happen, you need to cause a distraction." His eyes studied her, and for a second, Barbara almost forgot what she was panicking about.

"A distraction?" Barbara felt her heart skip a beat. Damn it, why did his eyes have to be so blue? Not just any blue either, but the type where you could lose yourself in and drown if you stared too long. And how could someone still look so good in such a hideous blue tux? No one should be able to pull that off, but somehow, Richard was making it work perfectly. But of all things, why did he have to smile at her like that? Like she was the only girl at this stupid party? Like she was beautiful and not stuck in a wheelchair...

No. This was not happening. Not to her. Not now.

Tearing her eyes off of him, Barbara turned to the side, hoping the light wouldn't give away her maddening blush. "Look, as much as I want Pamela to go down, I don't know if I can trust Bruce."

"Then can you trust me?"

That question again. Could she trust him? Trusting Bruce had gotten her sent to Arkham.

But Richard was not Bruce, she told herself. Though they may look similar, they couldn't have been more different. If Bruce was the moon-cold, dark, and mysterious-then Richard was the sun, always warm, bright, and beaming. If Bruce was at least a 9, then Richard was a solid 10. And above all, if she could trust Bruce, why couldn't she trust him? What would be the worst that could happen? A broken heart? It would fit right along with her broken legs.

"I... Yes," she breathed, glancing back at him just in time to see his lips crash onto hers. Caught somewhere between wanting to push him off and wanting to deepen the kiss, Barbara remained as still as one of the many bat statues decorating the grounds.

Before she could do either, Richard suddenly pulled back. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I did that."

Snapping out of her trance, Barbara glared at him. "Well, then why did you stop?"

Richard opened his mouth to answer, but before he could even form a syllable, Barbara leaned forward and did something she had been wanting to do for a long time now.

She kissed him.

Though there were no sparks like she imagined, Barbara felt like she was on fire. This warmth wasn't like the long summer days back in Chicago: hot, sticky, and uncomfortable. No, this was something that made her insides feel tingly, like drinking hot chocolate on a cold winter's night or wrapping herself up in her favorite blanket after it came out of the dryer.

As their kisses continued, though light and gentle at first, they soon became rough and untamed. No matter how many times their lips made contact, she grew desperate for more. More of his kisses. More of his touches. More of everything.

Maybe it was the way his fingers were laced around the ends of her hair. Maybe it was the way his arm was wrapped almost protectively around her. Or maybe it was the lack of oxygen flowing to her brain, but Barbara's head was spinning. No amount of drugs could compare to the dizzying effect of Richard's lips against hers.

Before she knew it, she was pressed up against the side of the tunnel, an upbeat pop song blasting in her ears.

"Wait." She drew back, gasping for air.

"Is everything okay? Did I hurt you?" His eyes widened with concern.

"No." Barbara was almost too breathless to speak. "I just need some air."

The longer she stared at his neat, composed form, the more she became conscious of her own disheveled one. With her wrinkled dress and bedraggled hair, it was a wonder someone didn't come in and think something else had been going on in that tunnel.

"Um, I think I'm going to go freshen up." She cleared the imaginary phlegm in her throat.

Richard winced, nodding his head a little too eagerly. "Oh, okay. Yeah. I'll wait here."

"Okay." Fumbling to turn herself around, Barbara nearly tipped her wheelchair over as she hurried out of the tunnel and down the sloping hills towards a bathroom. She didn't stop until she reached one.

Still out of breath from earlier, she took a moment to compose herself before splashing a stream of cool water onto her flushed face. Oh, boy. What had she gotten herself into?

Barbara sighed into the palms of her hands. Sure, she had been kissed before, but never like that. The kisses she had experienced in high school or on the occasional date or two were awkward and sloppy. They were from guys who were awkward and sloppy.

But this? Nothing could ever come close to this. What she experienced with Richard had been something else entirely.

The sound of someone gagging immediately snapped her from her thoughts and back to the brightly illuminated bathroom.

"Uh, are you okay?" Barbara peered around the corner towards the closed stall. Getting no answer besides more violent retching, she asked, "Do you need help?"

The toilet flushed and not a second later, the stall door opened with a click. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Pamela marched up to the sink, her emerald-green eyes fixed into an unblinking glare.

"Pamela?" Barbara frowned. "Are you-"

"I'm fine. Thank you." She began reapplying her smeared lipstick. Puckering her red lips, she tossed the tube of lipstick back into her purse before walking out the door.

Weird, but not surprising. This was the first time Barbara had seen her eat, and she figured the few bites she had taken probably had too many calories for Pamela's liking. Even Officer Bard had guessed it early on, having said she might be living off cigarettes and coke.

Officer Bard.

A pang of guilt rippled through her like a bullet at the thought of his name. How could she forget about him so easily? Here she was, going to parties and making out with other guys, while he remained missing.

What was wrong with her? Was she really that cold? That selfish to forget about her friend like that?

No. Whatever she had experienced with Richard couldn't continue. Not when Officer Bard was still out there waiting to be found.

Rushing out of the bathroom to look for Richard, she circled back over towards the tunnel, through the manicured grass and up the rising pathway. After nearly running over a couple of feet on the way, Barbara finally made it to the tunnel, only to find nothing but the sparkling gold lights inside.

Great. She'd never find him now. Not in a place this huge.

Wheeling herself back around, Barbara glanced everywhere for any sign of the boy. He wasn't underneath the palm trees with Harvey Dent or her dad. He wasn't by the glittering pink pond with Pamela or Dr. Elliot either. Nor was he with the redhead and-Oh, God. Was that Sarah Essen by the glowing neon lanterns?

With a frustrated groan, Barbara spun around and startled, coming face-to-face with one of those creepy bat statues. She knew it was close to Halloween, but come on. This was a little overboard, even for Bruce.

Just when she thought there wasn't a snowball in Hell's chance of finding Richard, she caught a glimpse of someone with the same bright blue eyes slip into the men's bathroom.

Bingo.

She rolled herself up to the door, deciding to wait for him. When he appeared, she would tell him what happened was a mistake. A one-time thing, nothing more. They could still be friends, but-

Barbara furrowed her brows, hearing the familiar sound of someone coughing up their dinner.

"Richard," she called out through the slight crack in the door. "Are you okay?"

Was something going around? Was something wrong with the food?

Clutching her stomach, Barbara wondered if she might have been food poisoned too. Best chefs in the world. Ha.

Without warning, the door swung open, nearly hitting Barbara in the face. The figure stepped out from the doorway, not yet noticing her as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

Oh shit. That was definitely not Richard.

Barbara backed away slowly, praying he wouldn't turn around. She almost thought she had evaded him, but that would mean the universe was being kind for once. It never was.

"Ms. Gordon."

The ice laced in his voice was enough to make Barbara pause. Shutting her eyes, she cursed under her breath as she awaited the inevitable crunch of his approaching footsteps. "Yes?"

"Were you looking for Richard?"

She turned around, heaving a defeated sigh. But that sigh soon gave way to a sharp gasp when she found him standing just a few inches away. There was no way he could've moved that fast, not without making some sort of noise. "Uh, yeah," she stuttered. "Sorry, I thought you were him. But since you're not, I'll just be going now."

She started to back up again, but the sudden grip on her shoulder stopped her from going any further.

"Then I assume he spoke to you about the wedding? And what your role would be?"

With an audible gulp, Barbara peered up into his unblinking stare and nodded. "Yeah."

His eyes narrowed a fraction, studying her as if she were an insect under a microscope. "And can I rely on you?"

Her heart was pounding so hard against her chest she was sure he could hear it. Even the roaring beat of the music couldn't hide it. She wanted to say yes, to say anything, just to get away from his unnerving glare. But it was no use. The words were caught in her throat like a broken zipper. "I-I-"

"Good. Then I hope you enjoy the rest of the evening." Bruce released his grip from her shoulder. "Have a good night, Ms. Gordon."

And with that, he walked away, vanishing into the crowd and the haze of flashing lights.