…0…
Fate leads the willing, and drags along the reluctant.
- Seneca
…0…
Chloe's first three weeks in Gotham pass fairly smooth.
It takes less than a day for her to realize that she's going to be spending the bulk of her evenings alone. Her uncle is always on call, gone at the drop of a hat. Tony is around on Sundays, to watch the game and do laundry, usually back to the dorms by eight at the latest. JJ is home less than his father. He's involved in half a dozen after school activities and sports and he usually eats dinner out or at friends' houses.
So she spends the majority of her time at home with her pregnancy books, and then several websites on the family computer in the den, until her eyes are red and her vision is so blurry she can barely make it up to her room, now completely devoid of Tony's posters.
As a result, she's getting very nervous about the remainder of pregnancy, now eminently aware of things-terrifying things-she previously had no idea about.
The only thing about her day to day life that isn't going smoothly-besides her morning sickness and chronic fatigue, which are normal if unpleasant-is work.
She likes her job, like Mrs. Billings and the other full time librarians, who alternate shifts. She's even come to like the high school volunteers, now that they were over feeling like she was stealing their jobs.
The actual work itself is easy; she's in charge of the main desk, check outs and returns, and she handles a lot of the scheduling for the various reading and specialty rooms. No one will let her climb ladders or carry heavy stacks of books, Mrs. Billings apparently having told them she was pregnant before she even started, so she mostly just sits and answers the phone.
It would be a near perfect job if it weren't for one thing.
Dick.
As he'd said, he comes in quite frequently. Almost every day actually.
Her first day there she ran into him on her way out, and he'd been exactly like the first day she had met him; nice, flirty, a little eager.
Just assuming that was his personality, she thought nothing of it.
And then he started showing up earlier, and earlier, hanging around the front desk and trying to engage her in conversation.
He reminds her more and more of Bart by the day.
Today, she almost believed she was in the clear. Nancy, one of the other librarians who mostly handled the children's rooms and school crowds, was cooing over the sonogram picture that dropped out of Chloe's purse as she was gathering her things to leave for the evening.
She's been carrying it around with her since her first doctor's appointment, a terrifying and nerve wracking ordeal that had kept her awake most of the night before, worried about everything and nothing all at once.
But everything had gone smoothly. She liked Dr. Evans, a very straightforward, efficient woman in her early fifties, who talked to her directly and honestly, and smiled the entire time, letting Chloe go with a few pamphlets, a prescription for prenatal vitamins, and her pager number in case anything should happen.
"Emergency room doctors aren't always the best option," she'd said. "I don't want to worry you, but if you find yourself at the hospital for any reason at all, call me."
Beth, who handles the rare collections, has grown twin sons and tells Chloe repeatedly all the horror stories of pregnancy, comes out of the back room just as Nancy finally relinquishes the sonogram with a pink pastry box in her hands.
"Barbara, your young man was here while you were out."
Chloe really, really wishes that everyone would stop referring to Dick as her 'young man.' it wasn't as if he comes into the library specifically to see her.
Mrs. Billings had asked her to do a quick run to the post office around the corner. Chloe had been a little crabby that day, explaining that she was even more queasy than normal so she had thought that the fresh air would do Chloe good….and maybe keep her from biting everyone's heads off.
Now she stands there, perplexed, as Beth hands her the box, and tries not to let anything show on her face.
"He certainly is persistent," Ross mutters. He's the only man that works here full time, a retired school teacher who's only in three days a week. So far, he's Chloe's favorite person at the library. He has five grandchildren and tells her all kinds of tales of tree house escapades and almost always brings her candy when he works.
She's starting to feel like an adopted grandchild herself.
Of all of them, Chloe thinks Ross is the most amused by Dick's attentions. He seems rather fond of the younger man actually and she suspects that has something to do with a lengthy conversation they had about baseball one day.
Honestly, Chloe think he's rooting for him.
He asks Chloe what's in the box and (since she's curious herself) she flips it open, inhaling quickly at the waft of chocolate that hits her and makes her mouth water. Its some extremely decadent looking cake thing with swirls of what looks like either peanut butter or caramel on the top. She licks her lips, wanting to dig in.
Chloe is doing her best to get used to life without coffee, despite the fact that decaf had been given the go ahead by her doctor-sans artificial sweetener as it had potentially harmful chemicals, but it was hardly worth drinking. Personally, she thought she was making good progress at acclimating herself to getting going in the morning without the boost, but there were still times that she craved it so strong she could hardly stand it.
So she had been substituting with chocolate. Over the last few days, a lot of chocolate.
She recalls perfectly that the last three times Dick has stopped by she was munching on something chocolatey.
Food is fast becoming a subject of utmost importance to her. And sleep.
And trying not to get sick in public.
Before they can say anything else, Chloe gathers up her things and finally manages to make her way out the front door just in time for the bus to come to a stop in front of the building, tires and gears groaning.
Collapsing onto the first empty seat she finds, Chloe guards the box in her hands like a dog protecting it's food dish from others. She just can't help it. Her sense of smell has been growing stronger over the last week, making her feel like she's turning into a bloodhound, and the aroma of the cake is driving her crazy. All she wants is to tear into it, right here on the #7 bus.
But she manages to wait until she gets home. Barely.
Walking into the kitchen while she tears off bits, she picks up the morning's paper and leafs through it, settling in at the kitchen table. Its all she can do to get up in the morning now so she doesn't have a chance to read it until she gets off work. There's a front page story about an attempted art heist gone bad, ending with the crooks bound together and tied to the front door of the museum. A smile quirks at the corners of Chloe's lips. She's only been in Gotham a short time, but everyone she's met has been quick to tell her their thoughts and opinions on Batman and his unique approach to crime fighting.
Chloe is no stranger to civilian crime fighters and self appointed heroes, but something about the over the top methods of Batman amuses her. Part of her thinks its because she's gotten used to stealth and subterfuge, of striving to remain as discreet and anonymous as possible. But Batman…he doesn't seem to care one bit about discretion.
She reads the article intently, practically studying it, all the while absently eating her cake. By the time she's read the article, as well as another foiled robbery across town that's raising eyebrows, she's eaten almost all of it.
Sheepish even though she's the only one home, she puts the cake away and meanders into the den. That second article has her curious.
Old habits die hard after all.
The den is on the other end of the house from the kitchen and by the time she gets to the desk, she all but collapses into the chair. No one had ever told her how exhausting it was to be pregnant. She didn't even have to do much and she felt like she'd run a marathon. Merely walking across a room was enough to get her winded at times.
And she still has over seven months to go.
Glancing down at her abdomen, Chloe chuckles, rubbing her belly fondly. "You're quite tiring you know. I used to be able to function on an hour of sleep a night if I had to. Now I can't even walk more than a few feet without needing a nap."
Luckily the chronic fatigue supposedly got better in the second trimester. She's looking forward to that. And the end of morning sickness. Hers, as far as she can garner, isn't bad, but she'd still like it to be over.
Pulling up the sites she routinely checks for tips and the latest pregnancy news and fads (some of which are ridiculous) she scans, but nothing pulls her interest so she brings up the main page of the Gotham Gazette. There are condensed versions of the stories she's already read of course. But under them are links to older stories are under the headings and that's what she's looking for. Something about the second crime is bothering her. The MO is similar to what has been linked to Batman according to the article, but not even he could be two places at once. Especially two places on opposite sides of the city.
Chloe's seen her fair share-more than-of the weird and wacky, but traces of unidentified blood at other crime scenes and eye witness accounts leads her to believe that Batman is human, and without any enhanced powers.
She feels a fluttering in her stomach and her mind wanders to Oliver.
"You thinking what I'm thinking?" she asks, hand moving in a slow circle over the still flat plane of her stomach. Dr. Evans assured her that while the flutters are uncommon so early in a pregnancy, they're not unheard of nor anything to be concerned about. They just remind her at random intervals of why she's doing what she's doing.
Her brain registers the sound of the front door opening and she closes the browser quickly.
"Anybody home?" JJ calls out.
She meets him at the entrance between the foyer and the living room, eyes taking in the large paper bags in his arms. "Hey, I thought you had a game tonight."
"A bridge washed out in Thomasville," he says. "Postponed. But I got dinner."
He gets the food out while Chloe sets the table. It's a good idea. While JJ just picks at the food like any teenage boy would do, Chloe would have been hard pressed not to devour an entire container of the Chinese food he's brought. She would have thought that after eating half of the cake she wouldn't be hungry again for a while, but the strong, spicy, somewhat greasy smell of takeout Chinese is making her stomach rumble in demand.
Her uncle walks through the door just when she's sure her stomach is about to jump out and seize the food on the table.
They make idle conversation about their days, about the rain that's even heavier than usual lately.
"I had an unexpected visitor today," Jim says, eyes on his niece.
"Oh?"
He nods, takes a sip of water before continuing. "Dick Grayson."
It's all she can go not to groan.
"I was supposed to have a meeting with Bruce Wayne about the fundraiser." He tells her that it's an annual event held in honor of the police, and that Bruce Wayne has been one of the main benefactors for years, and like the last three years, is planning to host. "But instead of Wayne showing up at out meeting today, Grayson showed up instead. He's never shown any interest beyond a pretty date before now." He fixes a smirk on his niece, humor evident on his normally serious face. "And then he asked me how you've been."
"He comes into the library sometimes…"she says, feeling a small twinge at the roundabout lie. "He's a nice guy."
"He's a major player," JJ adds. "You can't pick up a paper in this town without something about him or Bruce Wayne in it somewhere."
Chloe frowns. "That's just gossip."
Like the last time, and unbidden memory of Oliver slams into her; a vestige of annoyance at the Daily Planet's insinuation of a torrid romance between them when they were still nothing more than friends that floats along the recesses of her brain, growing stronger until the newspaper in her head feels almost tangible.
One issue, the one that caused Lois to question her, stands out starkly and she recalls the grainy image taken in a restaurant in Metropolis, thinks about Oliver leaning toward her, his face in a wide smile, her hand falling on top of his for the briefest of seconds.
And she can smell the earthy scents of a city autumn and the fettuccini so strongly that her stomach turns.
"I'm not feeling too great," she says, and stands. "I think I'm gong to go lay down."
She doesn't wait for a response before she hurries up to her room, shutting the door and pacing the floor until her stomach settles and the bitter taste of what she's cheating Oliver, herself, her baby, out of fades away.
…0…
The day Chloe hits her third month she runs into Dick on the main library steps.
It's been over a week since she's seen him. She knows he's been in the library, she's seen his name on the log books and checkout slips, but hasn't seen him. Maybe, she thought, he was done with the flirting and had decided to just go about the way things were.
The first thing she notices is that he doesn't look well. He's pale, and his eyes are hooded and lined with dark shadows. He looks as though he hasn't slept in days and he's cradling his right arm awkwardly.
"Did you hurt yourself?"
He shrugs, exactly as she would expect him to. "I got a little careless. Nothing to be concerned about."
There's something else, something he's not telling her, underlying his words. A truth he's hiding.
Chloe knows a little something about that.
"I'll leave you to your studying then." She makes to leave but he's quicker than she is and sidesteps his way to stand in front of her.
"I'm starving," he says. "Want to grab something to eat?"
Before she can protest her stomach growls loudly. She hadn't finished her breakfast, and when lunch rolled around she was nauseous so she'd only eaten a salad. Now that she's feeling better her little passenger is apparently hungry.
But she doesn't want to give Dick the wrong impression.
"I'm in a hurry…" She tries to make her way down the steps but again he blocks her path.
"I happen to know a little diner around the corner that makes the best chocolate malts in the city."
"Oh, are you talking about Toole's?" Ross comes to a stop beside Chloe on the steps, smiling between her and Dick.
"Yeah."
He nudges Chloe's arm. "Go with him. You will not regret it."
Dick grins, rocking a little on his heels. Some kind of look passes between the two men and she turns her head from one to the other, suspicious.
Ross's face splits into a wide grin, winking in Dick's direction.
Chloe groans. "No, do not smile. Do not encourage him." She crosses her arms over he chest in a huff.
Ross's hand falls onto her shoulder. "Barbara, honey, just go with him."
The words of protest scatter inside her mouth. Clearly she is never going to win this. She can tell by the way her indignation-deserved indignation-dissipates at the 'aw shucks smile that is both adorably cute and evil blooms on Dick's face.
"One hour."
…0…
The diner is crowded, and they wait almost twenty minutes for a booth.
For some reason Dick insists on a booth.
"You can't get the full diner effect without it," he tells her.
She scans her menu, stomach still growling though not as loud as it had been, until he pulls it away from her. "Trust me, you want a cheeseburger," he states. "And the onion rings."
"And a malt," Chloe says, grinning.
"Definitely a malt."
"So…" Chloe taps her fingers on the top of the 50's style table after the waitress leaves. "How are things?"
His brow crinkles. "Things?"
Gesturing to his arm with her head, she leans forward. "There's that for starters. And the fact that you went from almost living at the library to be almost never there."
"Been busy," he states simply. "What about you? You've been here almost a month now, what do you think of our fair city?"
The sky chooses that moment to open up and a loud clap of thunder shakes the glass of the diner windows.
"Well, maybe 'fair' isn't the best word," he quips.
Their waitress sets the malts on the table, along with straws and spoons.
"Ignoring that blatant ploy to change the subject," she smiles wide when a sheepish blush casts a rosy glow on his cheeks, "I'm enjoying it."
"Most people find Gotham a little daunting at first."
She takes a sip of her malt-heavenly-and shrugs. "Well, when you're used to Metropolis-" She clamps her mouth shut, realizing too late what she's said.
Dick's eyes light. "You're from Metropolis?"
"More or less," she says hurriedly, and takes another sip to prolong answering. She's saved by the arrival of their food.
Grudgingly, she has to admit that both Dick and Ross were right. This is with a doubt the best burger she's ever had, and the best malt and onion rings as well.
"God, this is delicious."
Dick chuckles, squirting more ketchup onto his plate to dip his onion rings. She can see an 'I told you so' swimming in his eyes, but he manages to keep it to himself.
"Dick, can I ask you something?" Chloe waits until their more or less done with their food, but she needs to ask. He nods, so she pushes an errant lock of her wig over her shoulder. "In all seriousness, do you like me?"
He chokes a little on his malt. After a few sputtered coughs he clears his throat before he can answer her. "I'm that obvious?"
Try as she might, Chloe can't seem to stop smiling. "The cake was a little much."
"But it was good, right?"
Laughing, she bobs her head in agreement. "Don't you think it's a little much for someone you don't even know?"
With yet another shrug, he leans back in the booth and she can vaguely feel him stretching his legs out under the table. "I've never been accused of being subtle."
She has to give that.
"Besides, how else can I get to know you?"
Chloe feels his gaze on her like flickering embers, going this way and that and she wants to squirm under the scrutiny of his eyes. She's not really used to such blatant flirting-except for Bart and it isn't like he was being serious. Again, she's hit with memories and a train of comparisons runs through her mind, and begging attention.
In all honesty, what little she knows of Dick is a lot like Bart, and also a bit like Oliver. They share that brashness, that cockiness. Not to the point where she wants to smack him, but right up there to that edge. It's a fine line with guys like this.
"I'm flattered, really," she says sincerely because she is. "But I'm not dating right now."
Dick's smile falters, but he forces his lips to retain their upward curve. The shift is so quick she almost doesn't even notice it. "Do I at least get an opportunity to tell you a little bit about myself before you decide you're not interested?"
"I honestly don't see the point." Chloe is not normally so blunt, but dragging this all out would be pointless.
"Come on, Babs, give a guy a chance."
Chloe feels her nose wrinkle. "Babs?"
A huge laugh bursts forth from his lips. "I told you, you don't look like a Barbara."
"Babs?" she repeats.
He throws his hands up in mock dramatics. "Its cute. And it suits you. Moving on," he signals for the check. "So…my middle name is John, I was born on the first day of spring, my parents died when I was young, and I've come to terms with it." He holds a hand up, as if sensing she was about to offer her sympathies. Which she had been. "Bruce took me in shortly after that. I think he believes it was a karmic thing, but anyway, my parents were in the circus."
She interrupts at that. "Circus?"
He nods. "Acrobats. The Flying Graysons. We were the only people on Earth who could perform a quadruple somersault. No, I'm the only one who can."
"Wait a second." Chloe leans in, becoming interested despite herself. "You're an acrobat?" He nods. "Like flying through the air, walking a tightrope, leotard kind of acrobat?"
Dick grimaces. "I gave up leotards but yeah."
Chuckling, Chloe sits back against the shiny red plastic of the booth and tells him to continue. She's actually enjoying herself.
"Well, I'm fluent in seven languages. Honest," he adds off the skeptical look she can feel on her face. "English, French, Spanish, Russian, Mandarin, Cantonese, and Japanese. But I can't read or write the last three. Those symbols give me a headache."
She laughs again.
"I'm 5'10, weigh 175 pounds, and am a master martial artist."
"Well now you're just bragging," she teases.
He leans in and says, in a loud stage whisper that causes her lips to twitch even more. "Impressing pretty girls is my specialty." He winks. "Is it working?"
"Not remotely."
Making and 'oh, yeah?' face of someone about to issue a challenge, he folds his hands together and asks her to return the favor and tell him a little about herself.
"Fine." Taking a deep breath, she begins to speak slowly so she won't slip again and reveal something she doesn't mean to. "I was born in Kansas, only child. My mom wasn't around. I majored in journalism…" She trails off, noting that Dick's eyes are glazing. Obviously he's thinking of a way to spin something in his favor. "I got married just short of two years ago," At that his eyes go so wide she thinks they'll likely to pop out of his head and land in the remains of his chocolate malt. "and my husband passed away not long ago." Her conscience kicks into high gear, screaming at her. Using Jimmy and his death as an excuse to beg off a persistent guy is low, but she doesn't want to play the baby card unless she's forced to. "So when I say I'm not dating right now…"
"Oh." Dick's voice sounds small, really small. "Sorry."
"Dick," she reaches over and places her hand over his larger one on the table. "You're a sweet guy, and you're funny." Chloe grins, feeling a tad bit like making up for the fact that his eyes aren't sparkling the way they have been since she met him anymore. "And if I didn't think it'd swell that big ego of yours, I'd tell you that you're pretty cute too."
The faintest traces of that big smile quirk at the edges of his mouth.
"But right now, a friend is all I can handle."
"Friends, huh?" He ponders for a moment, lips and brows twisted in a look of concentration. "I think I can do that."
…0…
