Disclaimer: I don't own Justice League Unlimited.
Author's note: I am truly sorry for the extremely late updates. Life's happened so I didn't have time to daydream. And during that span of time my muse was nowhere to be found. Call it writer's block, plot bunny's gone missing, life, but I managed to go through one night without sleep thinking about what I'm going to do with the rest of the story. So here I am, writing it, and I hope you enjoy it.
P.S. I changed my pen name from Jagan Lady to Bijou Snow. Confusing, yes, but I thought the change was necessary. Didn't want to be known as a representative from a Mayan tribe.
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Dinah touched the warm glass that separated her from her baby. She watched as his chest undulated, his eyes wide shut, sleeping. The moment when she saw a tiny glimpse of his eyes overwhelmed her with joy and pride—he had Ollie's eyes. She wished she could stroke the small tuft of hair, as dark as hers, but the doctor would permit no one to touch the baby, not even the mother. She felt like pulling the tubes that connected her son to the reading machine next to her, angry with the medical crew, with herself. She should have taken better care of her body. The beeping sound earned a glare from Dinah, and if she didn't control the anger welling inside her she would hit someone on the head.
Someone wrapped a towel over her shoulders. Dinah sighed, leaning against his hard chest.
"I want to rip the tubes off his chest," Dinah said, her tone tired yet determined.
"They just want to make sure he's fine," Ollie said, resting his chin on her neck. When silence pervaded the air, he whispered in her ear, "I'm just relieved that you're fine."
Dinah held his hand, leaning her forehead against his cheek. "You fight like girl. You need me, pregnant or not," she teased, biting his earlobe.
Ollie felt his heart race. The doctors expected postpartum depression but Dinah seemed to be fine. Or was she covering it? He had to remain wary no matter what.
"I always need you, Dinah," Ollie said, squeezing her, nearly depriving her of air.
They remained quiet and motionless, watching their tiny miracle. It was too soon to think of a name so they didn't have one. After the break-in, Dinah had gone through shock and that caused repercussions to the baby's health. She was only seven months into the pregnancy and the baby wanted out, right there and then. The doctor performed a quick C-section, rescuing both mother and son, but the baby was yet to be cleared for a clean bill of health. Because the baby was premature, he still had to stay in intensive care, constantly watched, stuck in an artificial incubator. Although his organs were fully developed, the doctor found a small murmur in the heart. If it proved small, surgery might not be required but the medical team didn't want to take chances. Constant monitoring was made first priority.
"He looks just like you," Ollie said, breaking the pressing silence.
"He has your eyes," Dinah responded.
"Your hair."
"Your nose and chin."
"Really? You could already tell?" Ollie stroked his chin. "You're pulling my leg."
Dinah laughed softly. "Boosting your false ego is my specialty."
Ollie nuzzled her neck, tickling her. Dinah laughed louder when Ollie's hand slipped beneath the revealing gown, touching her inner thigh. At that moment their baby stirred awake, his eyes roaming his surroundings, probably wondering where the giggles were coming from. Shocking green eyes fell on his parents, who weren't breathing in anticipation. The family trio stared at each other, attempting to form a bond in that split second. But the staring contest proved too tiresome and the baby yawned, soon fell asleep.
"That's my boy," Ollie said, hugging Dinah tighter.
Dinah outstretched her arm, wanting to touch him so badly. "When can I hold him?"
"Till they think our son is good and ready."
"When is he not good and ready? My son needs me, needs us. Those damn doctors are the reason why I can't hold him. Who gives them the right to say when I can hold my baby?" Dinah said, pulling away from Ollie to glare at him.
"The medical books, I presume," Ollie answered her rhetorical question. Whenever Dinah was all worked up there was no arguing with her. Whether she was right or not, Dinah would never back down from a fight. Especially against Ollie.
Ollie only sighed, letting her win. Why fight against a hailstorm when it would just beat you down till you die? That was how every relationship worked, married or not.
Without looking at Ollie, Dinah began opening the small hole so she could reach her baby. When skin met skin, her son stirred a little, shocked by the different kind of warmth that caressed his tiny fingers.
She was astonished by his size. His fingers could barely wrap around the tip of her finger and Dinah felt a dark hole expand within her. She could feel herself tearing up. The last thing she wanted was Ollie seeing her cry.
Just then the doors swung open with Helena and Diana stepping hesitantly through the doorway. Ollie forced a smile when he read their worried faces.
Diana wobbled ahead of Helena, asked, "How is he?"
"He's fine," Dinah said, stroking her baby boy's wrinkled face.
Hearing her calmer voice relieved Ollie. The sudden mood swings, from depression to bursts of calm and joy, still worried him but the latter overruled the first, though Ollie still feared for her. He would make sure she'd see the League's therapist, Martian Manhunter.
Helena let her shoulders down and she felt a knot pinch a nerve along her shoulder blade. She squared her shoulders, blew out a sigh. The last twelve hours nearly killed her. Sitting in the waiting room was nerve-wracking. The Question didn't help as he left for League business. In the end, she and Diana waited anxiously for news, stressed and lacking sleep. Diana refused to sleep, even during her condition. Batman would have Helena's head if she didn't do something to convince Wonder Woman that her body's health directly correlated with the baby's, but the Amazon princess was resolute. Like her and Dinah. Helena smiled at the thought. Her admiration for the superhero grew during those sleepless hours. Diana even let Helena feel the baby kick, causing Helena's eyes to widen in shock and awe.
Helena approached Dinah, glanced at the baby over her friend's shoulder. "He's beautiful."
"He is," Dinah said, proud and happy. Dinah then asked, "Want to touch him? He's still tender."
"You make him sound like a piece of roast beef," Helena said, shaking her head. "Maybe later."
Helena noticed the dark bags under Dinah's eyes and looked at Ollie with concern. He nodded in agreement.
Helena asked, "Want to grab a bite with Diana and me?"
Ollie was about to object, declaring that she needed more sleep than food, but Helena held up a head, telling him to sock it.
Dinah thought about it for a minute and nodded lightly. "Watch over him," she told Ollie before walking past him.
Ollie looked at Helena questioningly, to which she replied, "Take it easy, Queen. You know how Dinah is. She'll go to bed when she wants to and if she doesn't want to, she doesn't want to. You can't force things on her. I'll make sure she gets enough rest. But right now she needs a bit of girl time, alright?"
Ollie nodded, sighing.
Helena laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "I care about her, too."
After putting on yoga pants and loose-fitting blouse, Dinah followed her friends in the direction of the greenhouse. They knew better than to bring her into a crowded area like the cafeteria. The greenhouse was the place for contemplation and relaxation. It was built for superheroes who were recovering from injuries or watering plants as a form of catharsis after harried battles.
Located in the far west wing, close to the emergency rooms, the greenhouse was a breathtaking spectacle. Orchids, lilies, roses, snowberries, ferns, carnations—plants of all colors, shapes, and sizes—bloomed in abundance, like an enclosed Garden of Eden. Rusty, wiry chairs and tables provided respite to the tired wanderer. Vines dangled from the clear ceiling and miniature palm fronds momentarily teleported them to the Amazon Rainforest.
It was Dinah's first time seeing the place. Helena's, too. Their place of retreat usually included training rooms, the gym, and cafeteria. They would never have guessed that such a place existed in Retrotower. They found themselves speechless, gawking their surroundings with wide eyes and dropped jaws.
As soon as Dinah composed herself, she sat in one of the chairs, which was surprisingly comfortable.
"Those were wreathed from Hephaestus," Diana pointed out, grunting as she eased herself down opposite Dinah.
"The hell," Huntress scoffed, walking down an aisle of snowberries. If she were to get married, this would be in her bouquet. Like cotton balls, they represented spunky, playful and individuality, a cutesy sexiness. Helena was a far cry from cute but these flowers drew her in, imprinting her profession of love.
Diana raised a brow at Helena, as if to dare her repeat the phrase. "Are you calling my bluff?"
"Maybe I am, what are you going to do about it?" Helena taunted the Amazon princess. It may not be the smartest move, but Helena was never known for her high IQ.
Dinah shook her head, a smirk playing across her lips. Her eyes pleaded with Diana to hold back from beating Helena to a pulp. Diana knew better than to stoop to Helena's level and she decided to play along with the sexy heroine.
"Send you off to the underworld since you don't believe me. Ask the god of the forge, he'll tell you himself," Diana asked, cocking an eyebrow at Huntress.
Huntress stared at Diana squarely, as if saying, 'No shit, right?'
Dinah, on the other hand, turned to ignore them, gazing around her, the beatitude and splendor of all things created. Spellbound by kaleidoscope greenery, Dinah breathed in slowly, imagining to the days when she played around her mother's backyard, amidst the bees and dragonflies, stray dandelions creating a cloudy mist around her.
She nearly forgot the day when she tripped over a rock and scraped her knee, the gash a shadow reminder of her stubby legs. Her mother was at work, busy saving lives, but not her own daughter's. Alone in the backyard, crying over the pain, young Dinah wondered where the babysitter was. As usual, she was on the phone, the back of her head seen through the kitchen window.
'I want my mommy, I want my mommy' raced through her head but she knew her mother never came. Her mother was always busy with other things. Though she knew her mother loved her dearly, would sacrifice her own life even, her absence drew a divide between Dinah and her mother. No matter how hard she tried to mend that wound, it was hard to reconstruct a relationship when there never was a loving bond in the beginning.
As Dinah remembered her mother, she began to realize that her grown-up self was a copycat of her mother. Dedicated to work and avoiding deep relationships, Dinah was indeed her mother's daughter.
When her son was pulled out of her, she instantly feared for his life. She wanted to wake up so she could take him back. She wanted to make things better for him. He wasn't ready for the world and she was at fault for not taking better care of her body, of her baby. Although friends would pin the blame on external factors, like the break-in or her body's adverse reaction to shock, Dinah still felt the teeth of guilt bite her insides, the pain growing and expanding until there's nothing left but emptiness.
"Dinah?" Helena asked, interrupting Diana, running to Dinah. She cupped Dinah's face, wiped off the tears streaming down her friend's face.
"We should bring her back inside." Diana was about to help haul Dinah to her feet, but Dinah just shook her head, refusing their help.
"I'm fine. I just…" Dinah covered her face with her hands, barricading the tears from overflowing. The lines around her mouth grew hard and tense—she was clearly stopping herself from wailing. Her throat was even constricted from pressure.
"Do you want me to call Ollie?" Helena asked, concern and worry etched in her face.
Stubborn, Dinah shook her head. "He's the last person I want to see me right now. He's going to go on and on about postpartum depression and stuff but I'm fine. I just need to get a grip."
"Honey," Helena knelt next to Dinah, looking up to catch Dinah's eye. "What happened to you is not your fault, you hear me? You reacted with self-defense, and rightly so. Otherwise, the sonofabitch would have killed Ollie. You have to remember that, ok?"
Dinah didn't even nod or shake her head. She looked at Helena listlessly and said, "I'm a bad mother already."
"Dinah," Diana started, grabbing her chair to sit next to Black Canary. "You are nothing of the sort. Hera, you haven't even begun so how can you judge yourself like that?"
"I should have taken better care of myself. I should have grabbed a pole or Ollie's bow and arrow and shoot the damn fools. I should have thought things through before acting the way I did. I was just so stupid. I wasn't thinking."
Helena was about to yell at her friend but she controlled herself. "Dinah, this reasoning of yours is insane."
Diana stared at Helena, shocked at the way Helena approached things, especially with something as sensitive as depression. She narrowed her eyes at Helena, cautioning the brunette to tread on lightly. Very lightly.
Dinah stared at her friend, as if waiting to receive a beating.
Helena continued, "You are going to be a damn good mother. I've watched you during your pregnancy, and you're just spilling with our two mothers' love combined. You sing to your unborn baby, jog around the park, talk to the walls. If I didn't know you were pregnant I would have thought you were mentally insane." A hint of a smile broke out of Dinah's face. "Even when your son was nothing but the size of a malnourished squirrel, you loved him. You picked out colors for his room—though beige is such a bland color—attempted at sewing but that left you sewing your own hand, and you stocked his nursery with toys and pumps that could satiate ten babies in a third world country. So how could you say what you did was shameless and stupid? If you didn't act sooner, they would have hurt Ollie really bad, would have hurt you and your baby. But you didn't let that happen. You acted out of maternal instinct, fighting for your family. And you hardly see a mother capable of such a thing."
When silence consumed them, Helena sighed and stood up, started walking away when Dinah whispered something. Even Diana didn't hear it.
"You always know what to say, even though I end up wanting to kick your ass for it," Dinah said, rubbing her eyes.
"Of course. They call me bitch for nothing," Helena said, fishing out a handkerchief.
Diana left the two alone, stopping by a white rosebush for a sniff. She watched them from afar, reminiscing the days when she and her sister once shared secrets, interests, dreams. She missed Donna immensely but she saw no opportunity to spend time with her younger sister at the moment. She had other things to think about, like caring for her baby and Bruce. She had already resolved to stay in the human world so she could focus on more important things. Not that she didn't love her mother and sister but Bruce and the baby marked the second stage of her life. They needed her as much as they needed her.
But just because she made a promise to Bruce didn't mean she couldn't have friends. Girlfriends. Besides Shayera and a number of Greek goddesses and Amazon sisters, maybe she was able to make other close female friends in the League. When she looked away for a minute, at the flowers around her, Helena waved her over. Dinah and Helena were about to water the lilies. Diana smiled and joined them.
Diana thanked Hera for being blessed with friends. Once a land so strange, filled with so much man-made violence, the world of men was still capable of love, friendship, and joy. Filled with a sense of purpose and belonging, Diana felt at home, like this was the first step to becoming a normal woman—gardening. Or watering plants.
To be continued…
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