Part One:
There was knocking at the door. I had no idea how long it been going on; Wayne Manor was a big place and there was no doorbell on this side of the house. I stopped short, in the foyer, as I heard it. Who would knock on Bruce Wayne's door?
I debated opening it. Anyone coming to kill me- or anyone coming to kill the Batman- wouldn't knock, and anyone who knocked couldn't be that important. That left only girl scouts and Jehovah's Witnesses. Neither option was appealing in any way, but I was curious. Everyone in Gotham knew the Batman was dead and the manor was under the control of the state, the only reason I had access to it. Had I been found out? Did someone finally find the batcave?
I opened the door.
Of all the things I might've been expecting, it was not this. A young redheaded girl in jeans and a long black jacket, looking at me skeptically.
"We don't want any girl scout cookies," I deadpanned.
She disregarded what I'd said, beginning anew like I hadn't greeted her at all, "I'm looking for the Batman."
"The Batman is dead," I said for the third time, pouring two cups of tea.
"No he isn't," The girl said indignantly. "You have to believe that. He's stronger than that."
"Stronger than a nuclear bomb?"
"Autopilot," She suggested.
"There was no autopilot," I told her.
"Maybe he jumped out,"
"He wouldn't have been able to maintain a safe distance from the explosion in the time that he had." I sighed, "Look, this is futile. Dead or not, he's gone. And why wouldn't he come back if he was alive?"
"Maybe he's enjoying the freedom," She shrugged. "He's done so much for this city. Half of which no one even knows about. If anyone deserves a break its him. I just thought- hoped- that he'd be here."
I scoffed, "I don't know who you are, girl scout, or how you know any of this, but let me give you a little bit of advice: Go home. You're messing around with things you cannot hope to understand."
"I have no intention of going home," She said. "You said it yourself: The Batman is gone. And just because Bane is too doesn't mean this city can go without protection."
"And you think that protection should be you?"
"Why not?"
"No offense darling," I said. "But you're not exactly the hero type."
"You don't know anything about me," She ground out.
"No, I don't," I admitted. "Why don't you start with your name?"
"Barbara," She said after a pause.
"Barbara," I nodded, "Now we're getting somewhere. How do you know about the Batman, Barbara?"
"My father,"
"Your father," I repeated.
She nodded, "James Gordon."
"James Gor- Commissioner Gordon?" I said, incredulous.
Barbara nodded again.
"Commissioner Gordon is your father?"
"Yes,"
"How old are you?"
"Nineteen," She said.
"Does your father know you're here?"
"I said nineteen," She growled. "Not nine. I don't need my father's permission."
"You do if he's the commissioner," I said. "You think you can just waltz up here in broad daylight demanding the see the Batman and nobody's going to say anything? Your father has made it clear: There is no place for vigilantes in Gotham anymore."
"Then what are you still doing here?" She asked.
It was a loaded question and it meant so many things and she knew that, but she continued to glare stonily at me with one eyebrow raised. She was right, of course, but I didn't know what the point was. She came here looking for the Batman and I'd told her he was gone. What did she expect? I was no Bruce Wayne.
"Go home, Barbara," I said. "Pray your father doesn't find out you were here."
She scoffed to herself, like she was disappointed. I watched as she gathered her coat from the back of her chair, "Gotham needs vigilantes, Dick."
I didn't realize until almost two weeks later that I had never told her my name.
I'd been mulling over the conversation for the better part of ten days, trying to figure out what it meant and I still didn't have much of a clue. She obviously believed that Gotham needed some sort of protection. Since Bane we had gotten better, but we still had one of the highest crime rates this half of America. But what did she expect to happen? I couldn't imagine her persuading Bruce Wayne into giving her a spandex suit and a Batmobile.
That begged the question; why did she stay and argue with me after she'd found out the Batman was gone. Did she think I was hiding him in the basement? Or did she think that since I was there, in his home, answering his door, that I was talking over for him?
The whole situation was so ridiculous I had trouble believing it had actually happened. Commissioner Gordon's daughter popping up on my- Bruce's- doorstep and demanding vigilance? I knew it was hard to find able and willing cops in Gotham, everyone knew it, but I thought that at least the commissioner's daughter would have some faith in the police force.
I was thinking too much about it, to the point where I was losing sleep, which just made it all the more ridiculous. Barbara Gordon meant nothing. She was just a teenager, looking to rebel against her father. I heard children with powerful parents often did that.
She means nothing. She's nineteen. Forget about it.
This became a mantra of sorts, a mindless loop I repeated to myself when I found myself too lost in thought about it, mainly at night when I was tossing and turning. Even now I thought it as I sipped my coffee and made my way through the shops to my squad car.
People were bustling about all around me. It was three weeks until Christmas, Gotham's first since Bane and people seemed determined to make it a good one despite the doom nipping at our heels. I paused in front of a cafe, waiting for the cars to pass when I saw a flash of red hair. Gotham was a big city and of all the thoughts I had about Barbara I hadn't really considered bumping into her casually on the street. But there she was. Laughing and drinking coffee in the cafe with another college-age girl. I was glad I saw her first because I don't know how I would've reacted if she'd been the one to walk up to me.
As I looked in through the window her friend left the booth with a wave and I made the split second, a probably stupid decision, to dart into the cafe, taking her friend's place across the table. Now, most people go rigid and nervous around cops. Not Barbara Gordon. She'd most likely grown up around cops, not to mention her father who may look pretty average in stature but actually packs quite a wallop.
"Officer Grayson," She greeted with a cocked eyebrow.
"Funny seeing you here," I said.
"Yes, it is weird for college girls to hang out in coffee shops," She said.
"I just thought you'd be out interrogating other cops about their knowledge of the Batman,"
"Only on the weekends,"
I didn't quite know what to make of her. She was so relaxed, even joking with me. Like we were old friends.
"You seem to know a lot about me, Barbara," I said. "It's a wonder you had to come question me at all."
"I didn't come to question you," She said. "Nor did I know you were staying in Wayne manor. But I do know a lot about you."
"From your father?" I found it a little unnerving that Commissioner Gordon was talking about me to his family.
She laughed softly, "You really don't remember do you, Dick?"
"Remember what?"
"About a year ago, my father was in the hospital, dying. I left to get coffee and when I came back you were leaving. You bumped right into me. Spilled coffee all over my favorite shirt. I didn't hear anything you talked about, but when I asked my father who you were he said you'd be the one to save Gotham. After that I decided to learn everything I could about the handsome man who saved my father."
"I thought you left," I told her. "Your mom took you to Ohio well before Bane."
"She did," Barbara said. "I came back when I heard my father was shot and… well, I guess I was stuck here."
"And you stayed," I deduced. "To stalk me."
She shrugged.
"Well, you're right. I don't remember that."
She shrugged, "I guess you were too busy saving the city."
"That was Batman," I corrected.
"You played your part," She said. "And I know a lot of people don't know it, but I do. And if I recall correctly you saved the city and managed not to blow yourself up."
"Are you accepting that the Batman is dead now?"
She shrugged once more, "You were right. It doesn't really matter if he's alive or dead. He's gone. And someone has to take his place."
"Meaning me?"
"Why not?"
"It's not my place."
"Then whose is it?"
"I don't know," I said. "Maybe no one's."
"You can't believe that,"
"I believe," I said. "That Gotham can fix itself. We've grown stronger since Bane. We don't need the Batman anymore, and I'm doing what I can in the meantime."
"What? With your badge and your gun and your squad car?" She scoffed. "You know that none of that means jack shit to the bad guys."
"Well, in case you haven't noticed, girl scout, Bane and Harvey Dent and the Joker are all gone. So unless one of them or something worse shows up, drop it."
"Would Batman drop it?"
"Maybe it's not a good thing to be Batman," I said. "He is dead after all."
Wayne manor was a place literally built for lonely men. Needless to say, I felt right at home.
It was left pretty much as it was when Bruce Wayne died, Alfred took what was his and the city took some of the more priceless things as collateral for the damage done to the city and for the Batman museum that would open within the year. Bruce specified in his will that his home was to be used as a boys' home and in the end the house was divided in two. One half for the boys. One half for me. It took a few months persuasion, but eventually Gordon let me have the run of the place for an indefinite amount of time to discover whatever secrets the Batman might still be hiding. I hadn't gotten around to telling him about the batcave yet.
In the eight months I'd had in the house I'd counted 28 rooms, four secret passageways and a hidden room behind a bookcase and that was just in my half. I couldn't imagine what the boys had found. Bruce Wayne really knew how to spend his inheritance. There was so much space and no one to watch me or pressure me or invade my thoughts. It was nice, and I was used to the solitude.
I was struck by just how similar the Batman and I were. Both orphans, both grew up in the same boys' house, both ended up in the same fight with Bane. If only a few things were different it could've been me flying that bomb out of the city and blowing up with it. I wasn't sure how I felt about it.
I got up early that Tuesday, for no reason other than I had chosen a bedroom in the east wing and the sun had woken me up. As far as I knew, it was a normal morning and I hadn't thought about Barbara Gordon in a few days. It seemed that impromptu meeting had cleared my head a little bit. Which it shouldn't have because she basically told me she'd been stalking me for a year and wanted me to take over for the Batman. I guess there was closure in the fact that at least I knew where she was coming from now. Before she had come at me like a baseball from left field and I was lying in the sand trying to sort out my thoughts.
The coffee maker grumbled awake alongside me, protesting endlessly as I tried to find the right buttons. Nearly a year with the damned thing and I still didn't know how to properly use it. Eventually it gurgled in a promising way and I left it to retrieve the morning paper.
Everything at Wayne manor was huge, including the driveway, so I had to almost get fully dressed to get it. Summertime was a different story, but now that there was snow on the ground I had to go with boots rather than flip flops. I opened the door, looking down to see the rolled newsprint already on the doormat.
I picked it up, removing the rubber band to find the headline "Gotham City Museum Jewel Heist" staring at me in big block letters. It must've happened while I was asleep and I'd likely get a call from the precinct for me to assist in the investigation. My eyes traveled down the article only to be interrupted by a bright blue sticky note that simply said, "What Would Batman Do?" in hastily scribbled handwriting.
It was Barbara, had to be. I looked out across the lawn as if I would see her hiding in the bushes. I had no idea how she'd gotten past the gate (I'd started locking it again after her first invasion), or how she'd intercepted my newspaper, but it was apparent that our interaction at the cafe hadn't deterred her in the least. If she was anything like her father I might never see the end of this.
Two hours later I was ducking under the caution tape, trying not to spill the coffee I'd bought since Bruce's high tech devil machine had failed again to give me what I'd wanted. Paparazzi and other patrons stood around, ogling and snapping pictures of absolutely nothing because the real crime scene was back further in the museum.
From what I could see there wasn't much of a crime scene at the actual crime scene. Just an empty glass case and about a thousand forensics detectives dusting for fingerprints that weren't there.
"Dick!" Commissioner Gordon called. "About time."
I tossed my coffee and joined the commissioner where he was overseeing the investigation. "Gordon. What've we got?"
"Absolutely nothing." He said. "They're good. Too good. We might be dealing with a repeat offender."
"And all they took was the jewels?" I asked. "We dealing with another Catwoman?"
"I don't think so," He said. "She left marks. She wanted the recognition more than the jewels. All this one wanted was the stuff. And they knew exactly how to get it."
"So, if they left no trail what do we do?" I asked. "Just wait until they strike again? That seems pretty inefficient."
"Until more information comes to light, we don't really have much of a choice," Gordon said. "I'll have to send someone undercover. See if they're being sold on the black market."
"I'll go," I offered.
He scoffed, "Sorry, Dick. I need you on the front lines. Besides. Stealth isn't really your thing."
Tell your daughter that, I thought.
"How's your daughter doing Gordon?" I asked.
I was trying to sound casual, but we both knew I had never asked about Barbara before. Nevertheless, I kept eye contact with him like there wasn't anything strange about it.
"Uh, she's good," He finally said. "Growing up too fast."
I'll say. "They often do."
"Yeah, she goes to the university downtown," He said.
"She staying safe?" I asked. "Downtown can be a dangerous place for a young girl."
"I worry about her," He said. "But she's anything but incompetent."
"And your boys?" I added to seem less intrusive. "Your wife?"
"Ex-wife," He corrected. "Why all this interest in my personal life, Dick?"
I shrugged, "It's the holidays. I'm curious about what other families do."
When in doubt, play the orphan card.
Gordon nodded, "Tony is still down in Cleveland, James is all the way in California. Babs is the only one who stuck around. None of them are happy about what I do. But somebody's gotta do it. Babs seems to be the only one who gets it."
"We wouldn't want you anywhere else, Gordon," I said.
Why she thought that she'd be able to hide her identity with that flaming red hair was beyond me. But, then again, so was her thinking she could take on a man twice her size.
"Goddamn it," I muttered, slamming my fist against the steering wheel.
I slammed on the breaks, skidding to a stop at the curb. I half twisted around to the back seat to retrieve my gun from my belt. It is true that a cops' job is never done. Especially in Gotham.
Cocking my gun, I stepped out into the rain. Barbara and the mugger paid me no mind as I made my way down the alley. She was doing a better job than most people in the city would and I wondered just how often she thanked God she was a policeman's daughter. But he was wearing her down and earned himself a nice punch to her jaw.
"Hey!" I shouted over the rain. "Back off."
"Why don't you back off, man?" The man shouted back, brandishing a knife.
"Because I'm the one with the gun," I said, waving the firearm.
Sure enough, he ran off, dropping the dagger on the pavement. I lowered my gun and turned to see Barbara flat against the brick, breathing heavily. Rain was rolling off the both of us in rivers, although I'd only been out in it a few minutes.
"Thanks," She panted.
"What the hell are you doing?" I shouted.
"What?" She growled.
"Come on," I took her arm. "Let's get out of this damn rain."
"Stop it, Dick!" She protested, ripping her arm out of my grasp. "I'm not going anywhere with you."
"Well, you're sure as hell not staying out here," I cornered her against the passenger door. "Now. Get. In. The. Car."
I must've looked pretty scary because she dropped her strong shoulders and slid into the car. I slammed the door behind her and stalked back to the driver's side. The engine revved as we sped off down the soaked street and Barbara sat with her arms crossed indignantly.
"So are we just gonna ignore the fact that you're basically stalking me?" She said finally.
"Says the girl who knows every single detail of my life," I shot back. "Believe me, Barbara, I would love nothing less than to never see you again. Hell, a month ago I didn't even know you existed. Now, every corner I turn, there you are. With your red hair and your death wish."
"Death wish?"
"You're psychotic, you know that," I said. "Waltzing around Gotham at midnight, in the sleet. You're gonna get yourself killed."
"Nobody asked you to save me, Dick," She said. "I didn't need saving."
"What were you gonna do? Sarcasm your way out of a knife? Or did I miss the weapon that you didn't have?"
"You've got quite a temper on you, Dick Grayson," She mused.
"I do when nineteen year old girls go out to fight muggers with their bare hands after I told them to drop it."
"Where are you going?" She questioned. "GU is the other way."
"I'm not taking you back to the college," I said.
"Where are you taking me, then?"
"Somewhere I can keep an eye on you," I said. "How do I know that after I drop you off at school that you won't come back out here to prove your strength or whatever?"
"What are you gonna do? Tie me to a chair and forbid me from leaving?" She scoffed.
"If I have to,"
"I'm not a child, Dick," She told me,
"Then stop acting like one."
It was still raining when Babs and I made it back to the manor. I hauled her inside, still fuming, and all but tossed her into the living room.
"Sit down," I ordered.
"Stop telling me what to do," She gritted.
"I'll tell you what to do all I want," I shouted. "You wanna act like a little girl, I'll treat you like a little girl."
"You're not my father,"
"No, I'm not," I admitted. "Why don't we call him and let him know what his only daughter has been up to?"
She clenched her jaw, face hardening.
"That's what I thought," I said. "Sit down."
She sat.
"What the hell were you thinking?" I demanded.
"The Batman is gone," She said. "And you refuse to step up to the plate so-"
"So what? You take it upon yourself?" I asked. "Is this your passive-aggressive way of getting me to meet your psychotic demands? Because it's pretty fucking extreme."
"Somebody's gotta protect this city,"
"And you, a college girl with a superiority complex and no fighting skills, are the ideal person for the job? Get real, Barbara."
"At least I'm doing something!"
"That something is going to get you killed."
"It's none of your business," She crossed her arms.
"It became my business when you popped up on my doorstep," I said. "And it's gonna be my business when I'm the one who has to tell your father that you died trying to finish the Batman's work."
"At least I would've died doing something meaningful," She mumbled. "Batman once said, 'You either die a hero or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.' Which will you be?"
"Barbara," I sighed. "You're young. You're pretty. You're smart. Focus on that. Not everything has to be life or death."
"Everything is life or death here, Dick!" She shouted. "This city has problems and I wish we were strong enough to fix them on our own. I wish my father was enough of a hero, but he's not. We're not. Not yet. I'll admit that I'm not the best choice for this job, but our best choice blew up in a plane and the second best is hiding in a mansion that isn't his and working for my father. I'd gladly drop this, if there was someone to take my place."
"You don't get it, Barbara," I said. I had run out of steam, out of fight. I just wanted this conversation to be over. "Batman isn't a job just anyone can do."
"You aren't just anyone,"
"I'm not this iron savior that you seem to think I am," I told her. "I'm just a guy, Babs. And I'm not Batman."
"Maybe we don't need another Batman, Dick," She said. "Maybe we need something better."
"I am not better than the Batman," If nothing else, that was true.
"In some ways you are," She said. "You're like some mixture of Batman and my father. You have the best of both worlds. You just don't see it yet."
"This conversation is going in circles, Barbara," I sighed. "Just- we'll talk about it in the morning. It's late and we both need some sleep."
"You're serious about making me stay here?" She asked.
"It's too late to go back and too dangerous," I said. "I'll find you a bedroom for the night."
"Those must be hard to come by here," She said.
"Think about what I've said, Babs," I pleaded. "There's a fine line between bravery and stupidity."
"And there's a fine line between cowardice and knowing your place," She countered. "You're not a coward, Richard Grayson. So stop acting like one."
I didn't sleep much that night, even though I was dead tired. I set Barbara up in a room in the opposite wing of my own, so I wouldn't have to deal with her any longer. The problem wasn't that she was annoying, because she was, and the problem wasn't because I felt responsible for her, because I did. The problem was that she was right. I'd been living my life a certain way, following a certain set of rules and, until now, I wouldn't have even thought to think otherwise.
Barbara Gordon had this way of changing my perspective on things. She had a way of thinking that was unlike anyone I'd ever known and she made just as many good points as I did. At this rate we'd remain at a stalemate until the end of time. Unless something gave. And I was beginning to think it would be me.
When I woke up in the morning I had trouble convincing myself that I had gotten any sleep at all. I was still in the east wing so the sun was shining right on my face. I dressed quickly, making my way down to the kitchen, telling myself I needed breakfast, but I was really just stalling so I didn't have to face Barbara so early in the morning.
But, of course, Barbara Gordon wouldn't be avoided. When I got down to the kitchen she was there, wearing my police academy t shirt and a pair of small shorts that could've been underwear, cooking something at the stove.
"Eggs were the only actual breakfast food you had," She said. "So forgive me if it's not Bruce Wayne caliber."
"You made breakfast?" I asked.
"I figured it was the least I could do," She shrugged. "After putting you out last night."
"You didn't put me out, Barbara," I sighed. "I was harsh-"
"You told me to think about what you'd said," She interrupted. "And I did. Now, I haven't changed my opinion that Gotham needs protection, but I have decided that you were right. I don't have what it takes to protect this city. But you do."
"Do I?"
"I'll back off, if you promise to step up as protector of this city," She said.
"You drive a hard bargain, Barbara Gordon," I said.
"Take it or leave it,"
"I've been thinking too," I told her. "Per your request. And I decided that you were right. The Batman started out exactly like I did. If anyone has a chance of taking over for him it's me."
"I should've let you go first," She said.
"You should also let me finish," I continued. "I've also decided that your adamance and drive is too good to be wasted. I'll teach you to fight and, once I think you're ready, you can join me."
"Are you serious?" She asked, smiling.
"I'm dead serious," I told her. "But we wait until next year, alright? Enjoy Christmas, enjoy New Years, then we'll start."
"You're not gonna be one of those guys, are you?" She asked. "'Oh, just one more month, Barbara. Just two more months.' Because if you think-"
"You have my word," I said. "We can start January second if you want."
She looked at me for a long time before she finally said, "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For not making me regret making you breakfast," She said.
"I'd do anything for a good plate of eggs," I told her.
"You want some coffee, too?"
"What?" I asked.
"Coffee," She held a mug out to me.
"How did you do that?"
"Well, first I ventured out into the rainforest for some coffee beans and then-"
"I've been trying to get that damned thing to work for months," I said.
"Were you trying to make cappuccinos?" She asked.
"Cappuccinos?"
"It was on cappuccino mode," She told me. "You'd have to switch it back to coffee mode to make coffee. It's an espresso, cappuccino and a coffee maker. Though, I must admit, I never pegged Bruce Wayne for a cappuccino kind of guy."
"And what kind of guy did you peg me for?" I asked.
"Coffee. Two sugars. No cream," She offered me the mug again and this time I took it.
"You're a very perceptive girl," I told her. "Perceptive and stubborn."
"It's the tree that bends that doesn't break," She quoted.
"What happened that made you like that?" I asked.
"You were the one that convinced the Batman to get back out there," She said. "I wanted to be the one that convinced you to get back out there."
It wasn't an answer to my question, but it was good enough. I smiled back at her, sipping the coffee. It was even better than when I made it.
"You need a ride back to school?" I asked.
"If you're offering," She said.
"Wouldn't want to shatter the illusion that you're not just a normal girl."
Christmas Eve was probably one of the best nights of every child in Gotham's life. I didn't remember the last time I'd been excited for Christmas. Even with my parents, at the circus, we hadn't done much for Christmas. We usually had a show to do and then afterwards we had a small gift exchange with a few of the other circus freaks.
When I was in the boys' home celebrating holidays was deemed an act of weakness and most of us didn't want to think about our families and over the years I'd learned to treat them like any other day. But it seemed different this year.
Maybe because Batman was gone, or maybe because the year before I'd been trying to evade an atom bomb, or maybe it was Barbara Gordon. Nevertheless, I didn't feel like being alone so I ditched my police gear and headed out to find a club.
The newest one in town was called Birdy and I hadn't been and didn't plan on it, but I figured I could scope out potential drug rings and keep my mind off the impending holiday at the same time. In the end I wasn't doing much of either of those things. I'd had three drinks and flirted with two different girls. I wasn't much for dancing and the whole time I knew that I was doing everything just to avoid my own thoughts.
On my fourth trip back to the bar I was honestly wondering why it had taken her this long to pop up again. She was different this time than I'd ever seen her. She wasn't wearing her simple school clothes or my shirt. Her makeup was dark and her top was low cut and her jeans were tight. It seemed Barbara Gordon was never through surprising me.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, sliding up behind her.
She jumped, nearly spilling her drink and when she turned to me it was clear, by her droopy eyes, that she was pretty drunk. "Jesus. You scared me."
"This is a 21 and over club," I told her.
She took another long pull from her glass, "And?"
"And you're nineteen," I said. "And drunk.
"Oh, come on, Dick," She drawled. "Leave the badge at home for once."
"I may be off duty," I said. "But what kind of example would I be setting if I saw a crime being committed and I didn't turn it in?"
"I think it's about time you acted like a civvie," She slurred. "Only if for a night."
"You do this often?" I asked.
"Do what?"
"This," I gestured to her apparent clubbing getup. "This skimpy clothes and intoxicated flirting thing."
"Are you noticing my skimpy clothes or what's under them?" She asked wryly, playing with the collar of my shirt.
"Well isn't that the point?" I replied, smiling.
"I didn't expect to see you here, if that's what you're asking," She said.
"What would you wear if you were expecting me?" I was flirting, I knew it. But so was she.
"Shouldn't we be on the phone for this?" She ran a finger down my chest and I stopped her hand.
"Maybe you should go home, Babs," I said.
"I'd go home with you," She breathed, stepping impossibly close to me.
"Babs," I sighed, looking down to where her chest pressed against mine.
"My eyes are up here, Dick," She told me, titling my head up to look at her face. She was about the same height as me in her heeled boots. "And so is my mouth."
Next thing I knew, her lips were against mine and I wasn't stopping her or pulling away. I knew she was drunk and underage and her father was my boss, but at that point I couldn't be bothered to care.
One steamy cab ride later and we were bursting through the front door of Wayne manor, hands everywhere. Her plump red lips were open against mine, sucking air from my lungs and tonguing at the inside of my cheek. My mind was hazy from the alcohol and looking back on it, I really didn't know what I was doing, but for that short amount of time I wasn't thinking about anything but her ass in my hands. And that was good enough for me.
"You'll have to lead the way," She told me, breathless. "I wouldn't know the first place to look for a bedroom in this palace."
I lifted her up without a word, bringing her lips back to mine. It was apparent then that we both knew where this was going and neither of us were going to stop it. My hands slid beneath the back of her shirt, feeling how her back bowed under my touch. It'd been a long time since I'd been with a woman, too long. I didn't know if Barbara Gordon strictly counted as a woman, but again, I was too caught up in her to care.
Wayne manor looked completely different in the dark and trying to find a bedroom with Barbara wrapped around me made it even more difficult to manage. I counted the bedroom doors with one hand and kept the other locked firmly around her, until I reached the fifth door and pushed my way inside.
I let Barbara slide down onto the bed so I could reach into the nightstand for my box of condoms.
"Wow," Barbara mused. "Birth control at the ready. Just how many women do you bring back her Mr. Grayson?"
"Oh, loads," I replied, tugging my shirt over my head.
"Living in Bruce Wayne's old house must get you tons of action," She said, pulling off her own shirt.
"You'd be surprised," I said.
"Pleasantly, I hope," Her mouth curled up seductively and she slid to the edge of the bed to undo my belt.
I kissed her again, tasting the alcohol on her breath and giving her some of my own, backing her down onto the bed so she was lying beneath me. I made a lot of mistakes thereafter, but sleeping with Barbara Gordon was one that actually got me to a good place.
I woke up to a head of red hair tickling my nose. I sat up, groaning as I became aware of my hangover and looked over to see Barbara's bare back against my sheets. I rubbed my hands over my face. The night before was one big blur. A blur that involved her hips against mine and my hands covering her bare chest.
"Shit," I hissed.
She stirred for a moment, then bolted upright, clutching the sheet to her chest, "Shit." She echoed.
"Your father's gonna kill me," I said.
"It's Christmas, isn't it?" She asked.
I looked over at her incredulously, "Yes."
"Mmm," She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Were you drunk?"
"I didn't think so," I told her. "But apparently I was wrong."
"Jesus, what time is it?" She leaned over to the nightstand to turn the clock towards her. "Shit. I've still gotta get back to my dorm."
"Babs," I said. "We should… talk about this."
"About what?" She threw back the covers and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, snagging her bra from the floor. "Hook this for me."
"We slept together," I told her, hooking the two sides together. It seemed weird that I was putting her bra back on when just a few hours ago I was ripping it off.
"Uh huh," She said.
"I mean, we- you're not a…" I cleared my throat. "You've done this before. Right?"
She scoffed, "I'm nineteen. Not nine."
"Come on, Babs," I said. "This is kind of a big deal."
"No it's not," She insisted, sliding on her pure lace underwear. "We were drunk, Dick. Don't read too much into it. I'm not going to expect you to call me, or ask me out, or confess your undying love for me, okay? It was nothing."
"Right," I said. "Nothing."
I watched in silence as she collected the rest of her clothes, pulling back on her top so I was reminded just how presumptuous it was. Of course she wasn't a virgin. It seemed more than alcohol had been clouding my senses the night before.
Barbara stopped in the doorway, looking back at me before she left, "Merry Christmas, Dick."
I stayed in bed after she left. It wasn't nothing. But maybe it should've been.
I'd been to Commissioner Gordon's house before, but I'd never sat at his dining room table with his sons and his ex wife, drinking champagne. And certainly not less than twelve hours after fucking the brains out of his daughter. I sat nervously, hoping that no one at the table could read minds.
"Well, Jesus, dad," Tony said. "Is she ever going to show up?"
"Babs is like a wizard," James said. "She arrives precisely when she means to."
"She lives just up the street," Tony countered. "She should've been the first one here."
And she would've been. Had she not been naked in my bed. I thought.
"I'm here!" Barbara called from the front door. "Sorry I'm late, but I made it. And I brought presents!"
Barbara senior was the first one up from the table to hug her daughter as she came in the room. Babs hugged her mother back, but the whole exchange seemed awkward and estranged. When she pulled back she spotted me and her eyes didn't leave mine even while she hugged both of her brothers.
"What's wrong, baby sister?" James asked. "Seen a ghost?"
"Uh, no," She blinked a couple times. "Just didn't expect so many people."
"Hi, Babs," I said as nonchalantly as I could.
"I heard something about presents," Tony said.
"In the bag," Babs handed him a paper bag. "Go nuts. I need to have a word with Detective Grayson, anyway."
She jerked her head toward the door for me to follow her into the family room. I reluctantly got up, leaving my champagne on the table with her family.
"What are you doing here?" She demanded.
"Your father invited me," I shrugged.
"God," She hissed, dropping her face into her hand.
"What's wrong? You don't want me here?" I asked.
"It's not that," She said. "But you could've told me."
"I was otherwise occupied," I said.
"You can't tell him," She said.
"Do you think I'm an idiot?" I asked.
"No," She said. "I'm just making sure. He doesn't- nobody- needs to know about it. Understand?"
"Hey, I get it," I said. "You don't want daddy to know you're not his little girl anymore."
"The fact that you think I was ever his little girl is appalling," She sighed,
"You know where we are?" I asked.
"What?"
"Look up,"
She did, and, when her gaze dropped back down to mine, she was smirking, "Mistletoe, Dick? Really?"
"Just a little Christmas kiss?" I suggested.
"I think you've had enough Christmas kisses from me," Babs deadpanned.
"It can be your Christmas gift to me," I said. "Unless you've got something in that bag of presents for me."
She rolled her eyes, "You're incorrigible." But she stretched up on her toes to press her lips to mine anyway.
It started out chaste, I'll give us that, but soon her tongue was in my mouth and my hand was snaking up into her hair. Her hands pressed into my chest and her body followed soon after, taking me instantly back to the night before. I didn't think I'd object to her jumping my bones every time she saw me, but her family was in the other room.
In the end, it was her that broke the kiss. Reluctantly she pulled back, tucking her bottom lip into her mouth.
"I think that was more than a kiss," She breathed.
"Barbara, we- oh," Her mother interrupted, stopping in the doorway when she saw our close proximity. "Uh, dinner's almost ready."
"Okay, mom," Babs said. "We'll be in in a minute."
Her mother looked skeptical, but left all the same.
"And I was worried we wouldn't have anything to talk about at dinner," Babs said.
"I just hope your brothers don't jump me on the way to my car," I said.
"You could take 'em," She told me. "Their bark is worse than their bite."
"So, I guess another kiss is out of the question then," I said.
"I'll need a few more drinks first," Babs told me, winking.
"So, how long have you been a cop, Dick?" Barbara senior asked over her champagne glass.
"Uh, about five years now," I replied.
"We heard you helped our old man out during Bane," Tony said.
"Helped Batman out too," Babs said.
"Really?" Tony said. "You met him."
I nodded, "Not a very talkative fellow."
"Well, what was he like?" Tony asked. "Was he awesome?"
"Come on, Tony," James sighed. "He doesn't want to talk about the Batman. Dick, you don't have to answer that."
"Shut up, Jimmy," Babs said. "Let him talk."
"He was pretty awesome," I said. "But I think your father knew more about him than I ever would."
"Batman isn't a man who likes to share his secrets," Gordon said.
Of course Babs, Gordon and I knew the truth about the Batman. Until that point I didn't know how much the rest of the Gordon family knew about his secret identity and then I realized that there wasn't really a way they would know. They'd left way before Bane and even the commissioner didn't know who he was until he was gone. I didn't know how close Gordon and the other Barbara were after they split, but apparently they weren't so close for him to share the identity of the Batman.
"Batman is a man with a lot of toys and a God complex," James said. "I don't know why you two idolize him so much."
"Just because you're so bitter about him doesn't mean everyone has to be," Babs said. "You could show some respect. He did save your life."
"You could show some indifference," James countered. "You weren't even there that night."
"It's not my fault Grandma Gordon likes me more than you," Babs smirked.
"It just doesn't make sense why you worship him," James said. "You never even got near him."
I couldn't help but notice that both Gordon and his ex wife were strangely quiet. It had been Gordon's inability to give up his job of justice that drove them apart, but I suspected the Batman played a huge part in that. They were married for a long time and produced three kids so it's not like they could avoid each other completely. But conversations like this probably didn't make it any easier.
"Alright, enough about the Batman," Tony interrupted. "Let's change the subject completely. Dad tells you live in the old Wayne manor."
Babs snorted into her champagne glass and I fought the urge to laugh myself. If they only knew how closely related those two subjects were.
"I do," I said. "Well, one half of it."
"What's that like?" The elder Barbara asked.
"Big," I said. "But, uh, the boys are right next door. I try to help them as much as I can. There's just so much space."
"Didn't Bruce Wayne live in the same boys' home as you?" James asked.
"For a little while," I replied. "Until that butler of his plucked him out of it. He was one of the lucky ones I suppose."
"I think you turned out alright," Babs told me.
"Orphans tend to be resourceful people," I said. "But not all of us have good endings. I've locked up a few kids I grew up with."
"Well, you sound like a nice happy medium then," Barbara senior said. "Not Bruce Wayne and not in jail."
"Let's just hope that Wayne manor doesn't rub off on you," Babs said. "Next thing you know he'll be ordering us around and asking us to back out of the room."
After dinner all the members of the Gordon family just kind of milled about and Barbara and I ended up in the living room, looking at old pictures.
"James was so buck-toothed," She giggled. "He tries to live it down, but Tony and I won't let him forget. We called him 'Beaver Gordon' for years."
"I'm sure they've got worse stuff on you," I said.
"Actually…" She said, reaching below the coffee table for another album. "I think my dad still has the picture… Yes! Check that out."
She handed me the book and on the page was a picture of Babs when she was about ten with two teeth missing a purple bruise under her eye.
"Do you have a black eye?" I asked.
She nodded, "I got into a fight with this boy on the playground the day before. He said the Batman was a murderer and I wasn't having any of that."
"So your obsession with Batman isn't a new thing, then?" I teased.
"Nope. I was brainwashed from an early age," She said. "James used to tell me over and over about how Batman saved him from Harvey Dent. I didn't know yet that I wasn't supposed to tell people that side of the story. I got in trouble in school until I was about 14. Then I figured out that sometimes you have to pretend to fit in or forever be an outcast."
"Fitting in is overrated," I told her. "I don't think the Batman ever tried to fit in."
"And he was hunted by all of Gotham," She reminded me.
I shrugged, "There's always been people who believed in him. Its funny how one bad action can erase a thousand good ones."
Barbara nodded, like she understood, leaning back against the pillows, taking the picture with her, "My mom was so pissed. Her only daughter fighting at school, the horror. My dad, though, he was proud of me. Had the damn picture framed. He always taught me to stand up for what I believed in. I think that's why I always liked him better than my mom. Is that terrible?"
"I don't think it's terrible," I told her. "But, then again, I don't know much about parents."
"They're not always what they're cracked up to be," She said. "I'm sure your parents would've been awesome. Would you have stayed in the circus if they hadn't been killed?"
"I don't know. I think I would've done a lot of things differently if they hadn't been killed," I said. "I definitely wouldn't have become a police officer."
"You wouldn't have met me," She smirked.
"I'm still trying to figure out if that's a gain or a loss," I said.
"It's not like you have a choice, now," She flipped the photo album shut and threw it on the table with the others. "Let's go find my brothers. If we're lucky they might be up for basement hockey."
"I think you should seriously consider joining the league, Dick," Tony Gordon told me.
"Please," Barbara scoffed. "He was only so good because he had me as offense."
"That and Tony's a shitty goalie," James said.
"I am not," Tony insisted. "Babs just knows all my weaknesses."
"Observe and you shall know, brother," Babs said.
"She thinks she's yoda, but she's really just a self-righteous sociopath," I said.
"Wow," Babs said. "And here I thought I only had two brothers."
"Jesus, it's already eleven?" I said, checking my phone for the first time. "I really should go. I have work in the morning."
"On the day after Christmas?" Babs asked.
"Crime doesn't take a day off," I said.
I bid my goodbyes to James and Tony and Gordon and Barbara and made my way to the front door.
"Wait," Babs called. "I think I parked behind you."
She retrieved her keys and followed me out into the cold, wrapping her cardigan around her. When we reached the driveway I remembered I'd parked in the street.
"You didn't park behind me," I told her.
"I know," She said. "Maybe I just wanted an excuse to walk you out. I didn't know you had a real car."
"It's not always a good thing to be driving around in a cop car in Gotham," I said.
"Don't I know it," She said. "Where'd you get the money for two cars?"
"Borrowed it from Bruce Wayne," I winked.
"Speaking of Bruce Wayne," She said. "I'm sorry about the awkward Batman conversation. It's always been a touchy subject in our family. I think my mother's anti-Batman teachings are wearing off on the boys."
"No, it was fine," I assured her. "I had fun. It's nice to experience a real family Christmas for once. It's interesting to see you as an actual human being for once. Not just my crazy Batman-obsessed stalker."
"Is that what I was in your head?" She asked.
"Until now," I said.
"And now what am I?"
"My crazy Batman-obsessed stalker who's really good at basement hockey," I told her.
"Soon you'll have to get a stamp just to write my title on an envelope."
"Is there a reason you followed me out into the frozen tundra?" I asked. "Or did you just need someone to make your witty puns at?"
"I just wanted to make sure we were still up for the, you know, training," She said. "After last night."
"I'm still up for it if you are," I said.
"Definitely still up for it," She said. "And I don't want it to be weird and I was serious about forgetting about the whole thing. That's not some reverse psychology shit."
"You don't strike me as one of those girls to pull reverse psychology on a guy," I told her. "A clean slate it is." I held my hand out.
"See you January second," Babs said, shaking my hand.
"January second," I agreed.