Warnings: canon-typical violence; mentions of trauma/ptsd
Pairings: Dinah Lance/Barbara Gordon
Summary: Based on a tumblr ask/prompt for: "dinahbabs, babs patching up dinah or dinah comforting babs"
After a mission gone wrong in Gotham, Dinah returns to Barbara's safehouse to get patched up, and Barbara has to deal with some lingering guilt.
Credits: This is a non-profit, fanmade work. All characters are owned by DC. This fanfiction was written and created by me.
A/N: To celebrate my 100 followers on tumblr, I accepted 5 prompts to write shortfics for. This is one of them. I was so excited to finally write these two, I love DinahBabs. :)
Some content warnings for mentions of violence and trauma.
Gotham Bay was about fifteen minutes from Barbara's apartment.
Barbara knew this because she didn't live too far from her childhood home. She could still recall the impromptu trips to the bay as a girl. She'd sit with her dad in the front, James Jr. behind her in the backseat, and they'd go down to the docks. Long talks about Gotham architecture, rehashed cop stories, and the smell of rotted fish, might not have been every kid's idea of a grand time—but when it came down to Dad's tight schedule, Babs had learned to hold onto what she could.
What should have been trips to the zoo or the museum or the parks, was instead a trip of convenience—the convenience being that the docks were close.
Fifteen minutes.
Hell, maybe even ten, if traffic was clear.
That was the thought that kept reeling in Barbara's head as she stared down the bruise on Dinah's knee. She swore that from the time it took for her to grab the first aid kit and come back, the bruise had gotten bigger and more vibrant.
"I hate this city," Barbara said, and maybe she should have felt guilty for saying it, knowing what her dad and mentor and friends sacrificed for this damned place—but at that moment, blood boiling in her veins, she meant it. "I hate it."
"Wanna run away with me to Seattle?" Dinah said. Her warm tone only made Barbara that much more frustrated. How could she joke around? Like this? After everything that happened—could have happened?
Fifteen minutes away.
Barbara applied the antiseptic to the cloth, careful to not spill it on the bedspread. Part of her had to be thankful that Dinah's wounds were just cuts and bruises. Being in and out of hospitals had provided Barbara with a decent medical knowledge—or a lengthy understanding of the terminology and a strong stomach, at least—but it hardly made her a qualified doctor. This, however, she could handle.
Barbara stared down the cut on Dinah's arm and let out a long breath. She was still shaky, she realized.
When Barbara had made the frantic call to the other Birds of Prey, Zinda was the first to respond—from her mission in Paris. Barbara was five seconds away from begging her ex-teammates when Helena suddenly picked up the call. Bad blood be damned. Barbara slung the coordinates in Helena's direction like it was a softball pitch.
Helena did arrived with the bruised and bloody Dinah for another agonizing eighty-five minutes, each of which Barbara had watched tick.
A sudden groan filled the room, snapping Barbara out of her daze. She removed the pressure on the cut she was tending, her eyes flickering up. Pink stained teeth bit down on chewed lips. The blond hair bathed in blood had dried down to a matted brown, the cut near the hairline crusted over. They happened to lock eyes and Dinah makes a small sound, nearly a laugh.
Quickly, dismissively, Dinah lowered her gaze and said, "Easy there, Nurse."
The raspy power of her voice, especially in that teasing tone, would normally have Barbara fluttering over the commlink. This time, Barbara felt strangely uncharmed.
Barbara finished applying the bandage on Dinah's arm, the last cut that was still bleeding. When all was done, Barbara leaned back in her wheelchair, her eyes faded.
Fifteen minutes.
"I should have been there."
She could feel the weight of Dinah's gaze on her. The uncharacteristic silence that followed only made Barbara more tense. The mattress creaked as Dinah moved in closer and that's when Barbara regained herself.
"Stop moving," she said, her voice still sharp enough to scold.
"Don't use my ass-kicking to feel sorry for yourself," Dinah said.
Barbara felt herself bristle in defense—but there was something heavy nagging on her heart. She did feel guilty. She didn't know how to not feel guilty. It was her job to be the one that people depended on. Every fight between Mom and Dad, every time James did something wrong, every fight or case where the boys got stuck—it was Barbara's job to fix it.
And when Dinah needed her most, all Barbara could do was sit at a computer, throw a message out into the air and hope that someone would catch it.
It wasn't just her pride. Sometimes—sometimes it just felt like she had no control. Nothing at all.
Dinah never curled up into silence when she was upset. She never kept her feelings a secret. Unlike everyone else. She looked at Barbara head-on. Relentless.
"You seriously don't think you were there?" she said, in disbelief.
"What do you want me to say?" Barbara said, throwing her hands up. They landed back in her lap with a sound. She shook her head to herself. "You were in trouble. They took you. And I—I couldn't do anything."
"How many times have I gotten hurt before?" Dinah said.
At that, Barbara went silent. She knew Dinah had old wounds. She had the same wounds that Barbara had, she just didn't wear it as visibly. The marks on her wrists could be hidden by gloves. The slashes on her stomach and back hidden underneath a costume. The trauma and the bad days hidden under layers of recklessness and humor. Barbara was a steel fortress with no way in. Dinah was a mineshaft—a one way direction down a narrow path, that grew deeper and darker the further in. And who could say which was more difficult to traverse?
Dinah's hands reached for her face, trying to force her gaze. Barbara stared forward silently, a hand reaching for Dinah's wrist, maybe to push her away—but she didn't. Instead, her fingertips lingered on Dinah's skin.
"I throw myself into danger every day. I get myself involved in stupid shit. I make bad decisions. Because I know that whatever happens to me, you're going to be my backup."
"Yeah," Barbara said, her voice suddenly thick. She couldn't stop the wave of bitterness and resentment that washed over, time and time again. She felt weak for being so angry all the time. Sarcastically, she said, "Some backup."
"Look, what happened tonight was shitty," Dinah said, weary. "Yes. I'll admit that it was. But I was never afraid. I never thought, not even for one goddamn minute, that you weren't there."
"And what if I couldn't got ahold of Helena?" Barbara looked at her challengingly, because she was relentless too. Dinah finally released her face, hands folding onto her lap. "What then? What's going to happen when it's just you and me?"
"All I need is you," Dinah said. She gave a crooked smile, the cut near the corner of her mouth threatening to bleed. "What, you really mean to tell me that you don't have—I don't know. Secret booster packs or something hiding somewhere in this place? I've seen you knock out some teeth. If something happened, you would have rocketed in on your chair and beat all of their asses for me."
Despite herself, Barbara couldn't help but snort at the mental image.
"You're ridiculous," she said.
"What's ridiculous is that you haven't yelled at me for defying orders yet."
"Trust me, I was getting to it."
They shared glances of amusement. Dinah's expression suddenly grew serious all at once, and Barbara found herself staring.
Dinah moved in closer.
"Stop," Barbara tried, but it didn't work. Dinah placed both hands on Barbara's shoulders, her forehead leaning against Barbara's.
"The offer still stands," she said. Quietly, as if it were a secret. She suddenly grinned, and something in the air between them seemed to change. Barbara focused on the warmth of their intermingled breaths. "It's not too late to run away."
"You're not doing any running."
"Come on." Dinah's breath of laughter tickled against Barbara's face. "I'm not that banged up."
"No," Barbara whispered. Her voice was quiet—almost weak in comparison to Dinah's. But Dinah shut up all the same. Barbara's fingers slipped through the back of Dinah's hair. Holding on. "You're not going anywhere."