Gotham is, as it is every night after a harsh, merciless rain, a place of wonder. The lights of the restless city flicker with spontaneous bursts of life; a headlight in an alley west; an office light flickering off after a long day of grueling paperwork. The familiar smell of leaking gas and damp metal intermingle in the heavy city air. A light fog adds a sense of dream to the atmosphere; to Barbara, anything is possible on a night like this. It's so easy to forget that she's wearing the bold emblem of her family on her chest, where all—friend, foe, and stranger—can see.
Barbara Gordon snaps from her wonderment of her city at the incessant snapping of Stephanie Brown's gloved fingers. "Uh, Earth to Barb!" Steph whines, keeping her nimble fingers a very short distance from Barbara's nose. "We're kinda on a recon here! Daydreaming can wait, hm?"
Barbara instantly reenters her Batgirl-mode. She swipes Steph's hand from her face, frowning. "Listen," Barb says roughly, giving the younger girl a sharp glance, "When you can manage yourself without food for more than half an hour, and not complain when you can't eat, then you can play leader. Got it?"
Steph rolls her eyes, mimicking the fiery red-head under her breath. Barb chooses to ignore it. With a quick swipe over her utility belt, she pulls her binoculars out. Sighing, she brings the eyepiece to her face. Steph's a good kid; but she's just that: a kid. Despite her height and fighting technique, she's still just a kid. She shouldn't even be a fledged member of the family yet…
That's not fair. You weren't exactly Ms. Maturity when you donned the cowl. Barbara brings the binoculars down, nothing catching her eye. She brings herself down from her crouch and sits back, waiting for any word from Tim or Jason or Dick. She knows better than to expect any word from the Bat himself. But even on a night like this, anything is possible.
Steph rolls back on her heels, pacing the length and width of the rooftop. Her "leader" has been out of it lately; since Dick's been off again on missions with the Alpha Squad, she can only guess why. It's no secret that something's between the two: the bat and the bird. Steph smirks to herself and her clever play on terms.
"You know, I'm glad we're out here together."
Stephanie starts, unsure of how to respond. Then she realizes she doesn't have to; she had just said that to Barb. The young Robin feels a rush of heat explode underneath her freckled cheeks.
Barbara turns to look at the wild-haired Robin. She suddenly flashes a subtle grin. "I'm glad, too," she says, "It's not so bad, having some girl time."
Steph's face lights up, her natural tongue-in-cheek attitude fading. She bounds next to the resting Batgirl, coming down beside her. "Tell me about it," she explodes, "It's so frustrating when I'm out on patrol with Nightwing or Batman and they're just so dull! I mean, patrolling and recon are bad enough, but when you have Mr. Silent One or Two accompanying you? I just don't understand how they live in a socialized world! And don't get me started on Jason—it's hard enough being with him in the cave!—"
Barbara listens to Steph with a wary ear. Since the Robin has perched next to her, the easiness of the night has escalated into something unnerving. An icy finger slides up her spine; she turns over her shoulder, turning to her natural instinct.
Steph notices Barb's change in demeanor and hushes. She slips two Batarangs from her belt, concealing them between her fingers. With a careful eye, she turns toward where Barbara is watching.
Every breath suddenly feels like the last. The air around them darkens, weighing down on them, bringing them closer to the roof beneath their feet. Just blinking seems harder now for Steph.
But she's used to this feeling. It's the worst feeling in the world, knowing that someone who wants you dead is in the shadows, just about to strike. She watches as Barbara slowly rises, standing tall and proud against the hidden offender. "When I move, hit maneuver 36," she hears Batgirl murmur. The Robin nods tersely, keeping her eyes trained on the shadows.
Barbara shifts her weight, the rush of a fight suddenly making her limbs feel both light and strong at the same time. Her head clears; once he reveals himself, the only thing on her mind will be how to move, where to hit, when to strike. A chilling breeze sweeps her fiery red hair off her armored shoulders. Any second now, and—
Batgirl jolts, pulling herself back from attacking. Robin gasps, swinging her arms back from releasing her Batarangs. She quickly sheathes them, looking to her leader for instruction.
The black and red body of Nightwing struggles in front of them, holding a shaking arm against a gaping wound at his side. He had fallen from the shadows, unable to find his voice to alert the girls, onto his knees. The harsh crack of bone against cement had brought Barbara out of her primal instinct.
She rushes to his body now, cradling his trembling torso in her arms. His tense face relaxes, lines of stress and pain fading slowly. Barbara strokes the clammy skin of his cheek, lamenting on how he's aged, but never lost his Boy Wonder face.
"Steph, signal in for help," Barbara commands harshly, "Tim's in the precinct over with Jason. Get them over here now."
"How many?" she says quietly to her best friend as Steph fumbles with her earpiece, clearly frazzled from Barbara's subtle panic.
"Too many," Dick Grayson sputters. Barbara's heart wrenches in her protected chest as she wipes away the speckles of blood drops from his mouth. "All Rogue. Called for…big man…too late."
Nightwing lets out a harsh breath, grabbing his side tighter. His eyelids squeeze together, shutting her out. His teeth grind against each other, his breath short and terse. Barbara shushes him, stroking his damp hair.
His eyelids reopen, the spasm of pain slowly passing. Barbara looks down at him, giving him a sad, small smile. It's all too much for her; it's just like when they were kids, after Barbara had fallen off the high beams when Dick had just started teaching her gymnastics. She had hit her head hard, and had knocked herself out.
This must have been what he felt when Joker shot me and I didn't wake up.
"How's that signal going, Steph?" she calls to her partner.
"Well…see, here's the thing," Steph says, but her story is cut off. Her eyes flutter as a bullet whizzes past her ear, nearly taking out the left side of her head. She turns, dropping her hand from her buzzing earpiece.
Her breath catches, and not in a good way. The unmistakable cooing and cawing of the Rogue echo from the roof opposite of theirs.
Barbara snaps her head from the silhouettes of the Rogue members back to Steph. Nightwing is barely conscious in her arms, and losing blood each minute they sit there without aid. "What about the signal?"
Steph shrugs her shoulders, giving a nervous wheeze of a laugh. "Uh…there is none?"
