A/N Well, technically, this is next week... I was just really excited about getting this story out there that I wanted to post the next chapter.
The next chapter, though, will be out around next Sunday, while I try and get the last few chapters (I'm thinking I have about five more to write) written.
Thank you to all who have read and favorited! I hope you continue to enjoy!
Dick approaches the woman at the desk. He can't keep his hands still so finally, he sticks them in the pockets of his hoodie, where they can remain out of sight, out of mind.
"Richard Grayson," he tells the woman at the desk, who stares at him suspiciously from behind her wire-rimmed glasses. "I'm here to see," he takes a deep breath, "Barbara Gordon."
"Are you a relative?" the woman asks, bored, and, for a second, Dick draws a blank.
Should he lie? Say he's her brother? He already gave the woman his full name and it's definitely not Richard Gordon so he doubts that will work.
Her cousin maybe?
The idea almost sounds like it would work, but he hesitates a moment too long and the woman's frown deepens.
"I'm a friend," he says quickly, before the woman can call security and have him thrown out. He wonders if she can really do that. She certainly looks like she wants to.
"Friend?" she repeats, leaning forward so as to better get a good look at him. "I'm sorry, but only relatives are allowed during visiting hours," she tells him primly, apparently satisfied that he's no good..
"I…" He has no words, no way to tell her how important it is for him to get up there. How important she is. "It's important," he says pleadingly and maybe some of his emotion bleeds through because there's some semblance of sympathy when the woman looks at him now, but he can tell that the answer is still no.
He doesn't want to share any of their history, but what else is there to tell her?
Maybe coming as Nightwing was the better plan.
He runs a hand through his hair. "Look…"
"Dick?"
Dick turns and sees Commissioner Gordon heading in his direction, a fast food bag in his hand.
"Commissioner!"Dick says by way of greeting. Gordon looks worse than he's ever seen him before, face haggard and worn.
Dick smiles sympathetically, even as the guilt eats away at his soul.
He should have been there.
The Commissioner stops at the receptionist desk. "You having some trouble here, son?" Gordon asks.
The corner of his mouth twitches as if he's trying to smile in return, but winds up failing.
The woman huffs indignantly and frowns at him disapprovingly, but Gordon's attention is on trusting himself to speak, Dick nods slowly and the Commissioner turns to the woman, who smiles, but looks as though she thinks she can stare him down.
Really, they should get a better receptionist.
Or maybe she's just had a bad day.
He's certainly having one.
"This young man is with me," Gordon tells the receptionist. "He's," he glances sideways at Dick, "a dear friend of my daughter."
The receptionist peers closely at Dick, as if she suspects that this is all some conspiracy, but in the end, she lets them through.
"Thank you," Dick tells the Commissioner as the two of them step into the elevator, "for coming through for me there." He doesn't know what he would have done otherwise.
Come to think of it, he'd have probably ended up having to use the window as a doorway again, however less than ideal that is.
The Commissioner heaves a sigh and looks at Dick. "Son, you've been her best friend since the time Wayne took you in and she's going to need all of us here for her."
And he's been away for so long. Away in Bludhaven.
He'd only heard about what had happened when it came up on the news.
Dick swallows, staring straight ahead.
"I should have been there," he says finally, and he's not sure why he's said it, but he has. He might as well have flipped some kind of switch, because the instant the words have left his mouth, Gordon tenses.
"What?" Gordon asks and it's on the tip of Dick's tongue to say, "Nothing."
"I should have been there," he repeats and the words feel heavy, hanging in the air. "If I'd stayed in Gotham, maybe…"
"Maybe you could have done something," Gordon finishes for him gently and Dick lets out a breath he hadn't known he was holding.
"Yeah," he says softly and somehow his voice manages to break on that one word. "Yeah."
"It's all I can think about," the Commissioner admits. "I wasn't there when she opened the door to that psychopath. And I keep thinking that if I'd been there, if I'd had my gun…"
"You'd have been able to stop him," Dick finishes quietly this time. "It wouldn't have to be like this."
The Commissioner slowly breathes out. "Yeah," he answers almost in a whisper and his hand tightens around the fast food bag, causing the paper to crackle.
Dick falls silent and the silence stretches on between them.
He clears his throat, but, before he can speak a word, the elevator dings, signaling their floor has been reached, and the doors slide open.
Dick holds back, intending to let the Commissioner exit first, but Gordon shakes his head. "After you, Son," he says and Dick exits before him.
Gordon follows close behind him and falls into step beside him.
Barbara just wishes something would happen. Her father had left almost an hour ago, saying something about picking up some food that was actually edible rather than letting her eat anymore of the vile hospital meals that try to pass as food.
But Barbara does not want to be left alone with her thoughts right now.
Being alone with her thoughts means facing things that Barbara does not want to deal with currently.
Nothing else to do, she grabs the remote and begins flicking through the channels on the television provided in her hospital room.
Nothing good is on, but anything is better than the silence, and the thoughts that come with it.
Barbara finally settles on some mindless drama.
She knows none of the characters, nor does she care to, but it feels good to lose herself. To pretend that nothing else mattered. That this is just a day like any other.
"Knock, knock," a welcome voice calls at her door, and she brightens as her father appears. "You up, sweetheart?"
"Dad!" Barbara smiles as he enters the room…
… and then freezes as a very familiar figure follows behind him.
"Dick," she whispers.
Dick manages a small smile.
"Hey, Babs."
Her mouth opens as she struggles to find the words, but finally she closes it again and settles for returning the smile.
Her father straightens his tie awkwardly and places the bag on the little stand next to the hospital bed.
Gordon bends over and places a kiss on the top of her head. "I'll let you guys have some time together."
"Wait," Barbara grabs his hand, "you don't have to go!"
"I don't want to intrude," Dick says at the same time, hastily stepping forward.
Gordon smiles apologetically, gently extracting his hand from Barbara's. She releases him without protest.
"It's alright," he assures them. "You two could use some time together. Besides, I have some catching up to do at work anyways." He sighs, face hardening for an instant, before giving Barbara's shoulder a comforting squeeze. "I'll be back later. Okay?"
"Okay," Barbara answers, meeting his eyes.
He leaves, stopping briefly on the way to pat Dick on the shoulder, pausing briefly as he does so.
Then he's gone, leaving the two of them alone.
Dick clears his throat, slowly taking a seat next to her bed.
"Hey," he says, moving to take her hand, but then he stops, hesitating, gaze dropping to his lap.
Barbara reaches out, taking his hand, and Dick's eyes snap to her face, before he gives her hand a gentle squeeze.
"Hey," she says. Her eyes fill with tears and she hurriedly blinks them away, brushing at her hair to hide them.
She's missed him, she realizes.
"I-I'm happy you're here," she whispers, and then gasps as she feels him wrap her arms around, pulling her close.
Barbara returns the hug, burying her face against his shoulder, feeling his hand sink into her hair.
It's been so long since either of them have seen the other.
Far too long.
"Are…" Dick takes a breath, before asking, as they pull away from each other, concern written on every line of his face, "are you okay?" He winces ad rubs the back of his neck, giving her a sort of helpless look. "Okay. Stupid question, I know, but, there's really no right way to phrase this" he looks to her, "how are you feeling, Barbara? Really?"
"You're a dork, Richard Grayson,"Barbara tells him, smiling fondly despite herself. She reaches out, brushing her fingers against his face.
She considers the question honestly.
She's paralyzed.
She will be for the rest of her life.
But things could have turned out so much worse.
"I'm alive," she says. "I'll be fine."
Now all she has to do is believe that.
In hindsight, Dick really should have expected it. This is Gotham city. At night.
Of course he was going to run into the Batman when he headed out for patrol, too restless to do anything but.
He wonders if Bruce sees this as an invasion of his territory and tenses for the fight he's sure to come.
It doesn't come.
"You've heard." It's a statement. Not a question, an observation.
And Dick doesn't need to ask Bruce for clarification to know what he's talking about.
"Yes," Dick grinds out. "No thanks to you." He feels his fury build within him, anger at Bruce, anger at the callous "you've heard," anger at this whole entire, damn situation.
This is Barbara, the voice in the back of his mind whispers.
She deserves more respect than that.
His hands ball into fists at his side.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he asks. "Why wouldn't you have called? This is Barbara!" He's raging, and he's not sure if it's intended for Bruce or for himself, a result of whatever pent up guilt he's dealing with.
He should have been there.
The now familiar words repeat themselves again and he grits his teeth.
"I didn't get to hear what happened until someone brought it up at the station," Dick tells him harshly. "You didn't think that maybe I deserved to know when Barbara…" he works his jaw, dropping his voice to almost a whisper, "when Babs got shot? You didn't think to tell me?"
Deep inside, he knows that, with the way he left things with Bruce the last time, maybe he shouldn't have expected to hear from the man, but it still stings that he had to hear about it from one of his coworkers.
"I was busy," Bruce says tightly, though his tone makes it clear that he does not appreciate being questioned.
Dick manages a bitter laugh. "Right. Busy. And what if… what if she had died?" The words hurt coming out of his mouth, but he needs to ask. Needs to know. "Would you have been too busy then too?" he challenges. His blood is working up to a boil and he closes his eyes behind the mask, inhaling deeply, and willing himself to calm down. "Tell me you would have," he says, almost pleadingly.
You wouldn't have left me in the dark. Not with this.
He's angry, yes, but he doesn't want this to escalate anymore than it has to.
Not like last time.
Bruce tightens his jaw. "I would have told you," he says and, not for the first time, Dick wonders what the man is thinking.
"Where's Robin?" he asks, it finally dawning on him that the Bat has been flying solo. "Don't tell me you fired him too." Dick can't resist the biting words, though he regrets them almost the minute they pass his lips.
He doesn't take them back, however, a part of him genuinely curious to hear how the new boy is faring.
"He stayed behind," Bruce snaps, a little too sharply, and Dick is a little taken aback by his defensiveness.
Dick narrows his eyes. "You're not telling me something," he says. "Batman… Bruce," he uses the man's real name in the hopes of having a better chance reaching him, "whatever it is, tell me. Please."
Bruce glares at him from under the cowl, but doesn't reprimand Dick for breaking protocol.
Dick wonders if his plea was for nothing. If Bruce is going to tell him to go home to Bludhaven.
But when he finally speaks, Dick almost wishes he hadn't.
"The Joker is still out there."
A/N Please review! I'd love to hear your thoughts/opinions/predictions!
Once again, thanks for stopping by!
