Ah, why thank you. You’re very kind. You’re also writing a good Cassandra and Stephanie, among others.

Mainly the guilt she felt that lead to her regressing.

Oh, really? How so? Sorry, I just love getting that sort of compliment.

Great story! You really nailed Barbara's character.

Just for fun, I wrote out a mini story about how Barbara can shift from being her usual grown up self to regressing. Because… why not?

The Batmobile roared through the nighttime streets of Gotham, blazing a trail of the neon lights.

Barbara Gordon, once the first Batgirl and now pulling double duty as both Oracle and the newly christened Baby-Bat, felt ashamed.

There was a certain aura around the passenger seat of the Batmobile. You messed up, and I’m not saying anything because I’m focused on driving.
Still. She had to try.

“Look, I know I froze up back with the Joker, it won’t happen again, I swear.”

Nothing. The Dark Knight was silent as a statue, focused perfectly on the road ahead. Barbara frowned.

“It was just… a moment of shock. That’s all, nothing more. Nothing worth checking me into Arkham for,” she attempted to joke. Like Robin would.

Still nothing.

Her photographic memory was in the back of her mind, replaying her latest misstep. It was stupid, and it was going so well. A mission with Batman, just him and her. Solve a Joker plot with a plot of lethal laughing gas. Easy, right?
It was easy, an exhilarating experience of flying fists and batarangs, taking down the crooks and hearing Joker crack his threatening jokes.

And then he pulled out a gun. And in a moment, just one moment, Barbara froze up. She didn’t have a flashback to That Day. She didn’t crumble or cry, but she just froze for a moment.

That moment cost her a counter, earning a hard punch to the back of her head. Then one more to her stomach before finally recovering.
Everything else was a blur after that. Joker got away, but his scheme was foiled.

The car pulled up to Barbara’s apartment building.

“We’ll talk about this tomorrow. For now, get some rest,” finally, the Batman spoke to her. And she didn’t feel any better.

Get some rest, we’ll talk about this tomorrow. Like she was just some ten year old kid.
She trudged up to her room, turning the key and manoeuvred to her bedroom, kicking off her boots and flopping onto her bed.

A sigh escaped her lips. Subconsciously, her hand reached for the waist area of her suit.
Oh, thank god, she was dry. That would’ve been the last nail in this coffin of humiliation. She began to peel off her second skin of the Bat, leaving only Barbara Gordon as she put on a shirt and struggled to put on pants.

Brewing herself some tea, Barbara tried to get some semblance of balance back into her life. It wasn’t like she never made mistakes ever, even with all of her accomplishments.
Try as she might, Barbara soon realised that she needed to call in some… outside help.

Pulling out her phone, Barbara started to scroll down, pressing the name of her trusted contact.

“Hey, Dinah. It’s me. Got an hour to spare for an old friend?”
———————————————

There was a door in the apartment room, a locked one with a private key. The room inside was designed by Barbara and Dinah to act as a safe space for the former’s “therapy sessions.”

It also happened to be a custom sized nursery. A box of superhero dolls, pastel pink and purple wallpapers, dollhouses, clothes drawers, a baby bouncer…

It was a safe space.

Barbara laid down on the changing mat, still uncertain about how to “shift” into the right mentality for this.

Dinah Lance, Black Canary, was one of Barbara’s best friends. Before Bargirl was a sketch in her notebook, she idolised the Black Canary. The first one, but the second one was impressive too.

When all this regression “turned back to teen” nonsense started, Barbara called Dinah over to talk and run down the strategy. And from that, their relationship shifted from oriented to more of a caretaker relationship. Dinah still knew that Babs was an integral and invaluable member of the team, mission leader and god damn Oracle, but now she needed a check in.

Removing Barbara’s leg wear, Dinah’s voice combined softness with playful teasing.

“Very cute, but not too absorbent. Let’s fix that, hm?”

The current pair of plastic underwear was removed, and Barbara focused on the softness. The gentle hands making sure she was comfortable, before wrapping a new pair around her waist.

This one had Robin prints, ironically enough. Never tell anyone this. This is an Omega Level Contingency Plan Secret.

Once she was padded, a shirt was slid over Barbara’s upper half. Pastel blue with a flower like pattern.

“How do you feel?”

“Good… not yet…” Barbara murmured. She wasn’t there yet. Not quite little…

Asked to sit up, Barbara obliged, and again she felt the hands of her closest friend comb through her hair, holding and tying. Her eyes were closed, her ears doing the extra work.

“Focus on the lavender smell. The way you feel the softness of this place, even focus on that crinkle your butt makes. It’s okay, you can relax. No Villains, no Oracle, no big scary plot to the city. Just you. Just you and your safe space.”

That did the trick. When Barbara opened her eyes, they weren’t the analytical eyes of Oracle. They were the innocent eyes of a little girl.

The little girl looked to Dinah- Mama Canary, and tilted her head.

“Pway?”

Mama grinned, rubbing Barbara’s cheek.

“Yes, you can play. Your dollies are right over there…”

No, no. No need for apologies. It’s alright.

Okay, sorry about that.

Hm, that could be an idea, but it might be too far into embarrassing. If that’s okay?

What if she packed a diaper bag for her?

Ha, that’s funny.

“Pretty long show, kinda wish I didn’t drink that three litre bottle at lunch.”
Crystal: I have an idea.