DSICLAIMER: If Birds of Prey belonged to me, it would still be on air.
I love this show. That's all I can really say. It has great emotion even if the acting is a bit sub par at times and the special effects aren't perfect. But I still love it. And Ashley Scott and Dina Meyer are both absolutely gorgeous.
She jerks awake with a gasp, visions of blood and pain and death and fire flooding her mind. Her torso moves fluidly, but below her waist her body doesn't respond, and it's that sensation that lets Barbara Gordon know she's awake. The redhead spends a moment panting, body soaked in a cold sweat as her heart frantically batters against her ribs. As she begins to calm, she becomes aware of two warm weights on her chest, of two presences in the bed with her. Slowly, her old instincts still present, Barbara turns her head, and some of the panic melts away into a smile.
Dinah is cuddled close on her left, one arm slung diagonally across Barbara's stomach and hip. Surprisingly, she's quiet, with none of the snoring Helena claims to hear in the com link every night. Her expression is peaceful, and just looking at her, Barbara feels calmer. Gently Barbara brushes a few platinum wisps of hair from the teenager's face before holding her close and leaning over to ghost her lips across Dinah's forehead. Dinah burrows her face into Barbara's shoulder but doesn't wake.
With one side accounted for, the redhead looks to her right, and a small gasp of surprise escapes her lips before she can stop herself. Luckily, even though Helena is a notoriously light sleeper, she doesn't seem to hear and just shifts closer to Barbara, pressing herself against the older woman as if trying to protect her. Barbara can't believe that Helena is here; the half-meta is notorious for keeping her heart carefully guarded, and that includes as little physical contact as possible. Barbara can count on one hand the times that Helena has allowed Barbara to hug her, and the mere fact that she's now curled up asleep by the redhead's side speaks volumes. Then again, she had stopped Barbara from killing Harley Quinn earlier that day. Oracle had, for once, been the one that needed to be pulled back from the edge of no return—the edge of losing her soul.
Wade. A choked sob wells up in Barbara's throat as she recalls part of her dream—a vision of Wade falling to the floor lifeless as Quinn pulled the knife from his chest. Earlier that day she'd refused to shed tears, telling herself that as long as she chose this life, that was a risk she had to take. But he hadn't deserved this. Barbara had put him in the line of fire and paid the price. And Helena's words still echo in her ears: "If I could give my life to have Wade back, you know I would. But I can't." To hear Helena say that, to know that she would be willing to die in exchange for the man Barbara loved…
Automatically the redhead lifts a hand to wipe away the warm, salty drops that begin to course down her cheeks, but she forgets that said hand is connected to an arm that is currently being used as a pillow by Helena. The younger woman jerks awake, lips curling back in a defensive snarl as her irises change color from brown to blue and the pupils contract into slits. Helena's head whips around too fast for a normal human as she surveys the room, and Barbara freezes, knowing all too well what it's like to wake in a panic. "Helena," she says quietly, and as the brunette's gaze finds hers the tension drains from her eyes. Helena exhales heavily and pushes a hand through her short hair, looking over Dinah to the clock on the nightstand.
"How long have you been awake?" Helena murmurs, and it's a mark of how close they are that she doesn't question as to why—not because she doesn't need to, but because she knows Barbara doesn't want to. Barbara shakes her head and looks down to check that Dinah is still sleeping (she is) before turning back to her friend and answering, her voice equally low:
"Not long. I….had trouble sleeping."
Helena and Barbara have both had their share of nightmares. For almost an entire year after That Night (which is almost always how they refer to it in conversation with one another), either one or both had woken screaming every night, Helena reaching out for her mother and Barbara struggling to stand, to reassure herself that her legs were as strong and able as they had ever been. On the rare nights that Helena didn't come to her, Barbara would take her pillow, press it over her face and contemplate just keeping it there until she ran out of oxygen. But each and every time, the thought of the girl she now took responsibility for stopped her. If she died, Helena would most likely unravel completely, and as miserable and angry and in pain as Barbara had been, she wouldn't—couldn't—abandon the girl. It's a decision she's now devoutly thankful for.
All this and more runs through Barbara's mind as she responds, and from the way Helena's eyes darken she can tell that the younger woman is thinking it too. Helena doesn't answer back, instead sliding up so that her back rests against the headboard and Barbara's eyes are level with her hip. She reaches out, and Barbara's eyes widen as Helena very gently pulls the older woman's head into her lap, running her fingers through the loose auburn hair. "You held me when I cried after Mom was killed," she says quietly. "And you told me it wasn't weak. Sometimes we'd even cry together." Gently Helena trails the back of one hand over Barbara's forehead. "It's okay if you cry now, Barbara."
Batgirl would have said no. Oracle never let the collateral get to her. But Barbara…..Barbara Gordon is grieving.
Gently, making sure not to wake Dinah, Barbara slips her arm out from underneath the teen's shoulders. Dinah frowns slightly but stays asleep, snuggling further into her pillow. Helena is about to ask what Barbara is doing when suddenly Barbara's arms are around her, fingers tightly gripping the back of Helena's nightshirt as she trembles with harsh yet silent sobs. Helena is caught off guard but quickly compensates, shifting position so that Barbara is cradled against her like she was after the battle ended. Barbara turns her face against Helena's chest, trying hard to be quiet lest she wake Dinah. Helena quickly realizes this before slipping an arm underneath Barbara's legs, standing up and quietly padding out of the bedroom and onto the small balcony where Dinah had been "grounded" after her first trip to No Man's Land. The half-meta sits on the small lounge chair and gently sets Barbara down before holding her tightly with a tenderness that the redhead never thought possible from someone so brash and rough. Barbara attempts not to feel like everything is slipping from her control as she clings to Helena, tiny whimpers and cries escaping along with the tears. Helena says nothing—she knows how useless words are—and just strokes Barbara's hair, letting the older woman release her pain.
It feels like hours before Barbara is able to calm down enough to speak, and when she does, her voice is scratchy and unsteady. "It was my fault. I shouldn't have let Wade in—"
"No," Helena interrupts, shaking her head and fixing Barbara with piercing dark eyes. "Don't. You've tried so hard to get me to open up…to trust. Don't go back on that now." Her jaw clenches, and the half-meta's eyes shut tightly. "This is my fault. I told Quinnzel everything, I let her control me and I was stupid enough to think she was trying to help when there were signs I should have seen all along. I'm to blame for this, Barbara. Not you."
"Helena, no." Barbara pushes her own fingers through Helena's cropped hair, causing the younger woman to reluctantly look down at her. "You had no knowledge or control of your actions. This isn't your fault."
Helena lets out a quiet breath, and somehow that hurts Barbara more than anything that's happened today. "You once told me I'd never failed you. I guess now you can't say that anymore." Helena smiles sadly, and although her voice is casual, there is a deep, almost excruciating pain in her eyes. "My father would have done so much better."
Barbara can't decide what hurts more: The self-hatred Helena so obviously feels, the thought that she thinks she's let Barbara down or that she sees herself as so much less than Bruce—and she cares. Slowly the redhead pulls herself into a sitting position, using Helena's shoulder as leverage—the neural device left her abdomen and lower back muscles extremely sore. "I can still say that," she said quietly, feeling her eyes sting again as they find Helena's. She lifts a hand, curling her palm around her companion's cheek, and Helena leans into the touch as if it's all that's keeping her from drowning. "You didn't let me down. If not for you….I would have killed today. And you're right. It makes us less, it goes against everything we were taught…everything I taught you. If I had gone through with it…" Barbara shivers, remembering the almost inhuman rage that had consumed her as she stared into Quinn's eyes, one escrima stick at the blonde's throat as she leaned her over the railing. "I could never look you in the eye again." She smiles then, faintly. "I can't believe you actually listened to me when I told you that."
"Eh, it was mostly the repetition," Helena shrugs with an equally tiny grin. "Besides, it's like I said. You've saved my life so many times…I had to return the favor."
"And Bruce couldn't have handled this any better than you did—in fact, if I'd had to fight him, he probably would have killed me. You didn't. I know, you tried," Barbara interrupts as Helena opens her mouth, "but Helena, I know you and I know your abilities. If you really wanted me dead, I would have been."
Helena bites her lip, looks away to hide the raw emotion crossing her face. Barbara sighs and gently pulls her into a hug, cradling the younger woman's head close to her shoulder. "We'll be all right, Helena," she murmurs into her companion's hair. "As long as we're together."