"You disobeyed a direct order…"
"Technically, you didn't order it. And if you had, you would have ordered Barbara, not me. So technically…"
"Technically, you have no right or need to be down here."
Bruce and I stood with arms crossed over our chests, staring down at Jason as he sat in the computer chair in the Batcave. It was nearing 2am, way past Jason's bedtime, but our discovery that Jason had tipped GCPD off to Bane's whereabouts was enough reason to keep Jason out of bed a little longer.
"Being down here while we're out, is not a right. It is a privilege. It's a privilege you are allowed to use the Augmented Reality Chamber. It is a privilege you have been allowed to watch Barbara and help her on occasion. It is a…" Bruce continued sternly until Jason interrupted.
"I get it! Look, it's not like I stole the Batmobile, okay? I helped put away the bad guys! Bane is in the asylum now because I helped!" Jason argued.
"We gave our word to Bane that we would let him go free," Bruce snapped back.
"So what? It's not like promises mean anything to these guys, they're criminals," Jason leaned forward in his chair, gripping the arms angrily.
"Our word is what sets us apart from these criminals," Bruce shouted, though he was still composed, dignified. "Our credibility is the only reason we are able to continue our work in Gotham. We destroy that, we destroy our relationship with GCPD, we lose our advantage over our opposition, we lose the only leverage we have in interrogations. The only reason we caught Scarecrow is because of the insight Bane gave us. Now, next time we interrogate him, he won't believe us when we offer mercy."
Jason paused for a moment, reflecting on what Bruce had said, but his jaw was clenched and his fingers tightly gripped the chair he sat in. He was angry. "I put away the bad guy," Jason repeated bitterly. "He's not gonna hurt anyone else in Gotham, and that's because of me." Bruce shook his head and walked past Jason to the keyboard of the Batcomputer.
"You put him away," Bruce confirmed, "but he's almost assured to escape again." Bruce pulled up interior pictures of Arkham Asylum. Damaged cells, bent bars, smashed plexiglass walls. "The asylum doesn't have the infrastructure to contain a prisoner like Bane right now. Which means they'll either transfer him to Blackgate, which has its own problems, or he'll find a way to escape. The only thing they can do in the meantime is pump him full of sedatives and hope he doesn't wake up. It could mean the lives of several Asylum staff. Had we waited, I might have been able to assure these assets were in place before locking Bane up." Jason looked away from the screens, his lips pressed tightly together and his eyes low. "You're out of the Batcave," Bruce said, closing the open windows on the screen and stepping away from the computer. Jason's eyes shot open in rage as he turned his chair to face Bruce.
"What?"
"Out of the Batcave, at least for a few weeks. I'll decide if and when you're ready to restart your training…"
"You're benching me because I locked up Bane?" Jason jumped to his feet.
"I'm benching you because you made a bad call, and you did it when the right call had already been made," Bruce said, stopping and facing him. "Robin cannot ignore my direction. If I tell him to leave something alone, he needs to trust me."
"Even if you're wrong?!" Jason yelled.
"But you were the one who was wrong, Jason," Bruce said in a hard, brutal whisper. Jason let out a hard breath, wanting to argue, but he pushed the words aside and stormed out of the Batcave to the elevator. Bruce watched him leave. Even from behind, I could see his posture was that of a man who hated disappointing his child.
"He thought he was doing the right thing," I reminded Bruce as I dimly heard the elevator ascending.
"I know," Bruce said as he turned and approached the Batcomputer again with eyes low. "That's why he's not ready."
"It was a mistake," I said, stepping closer. "I think he knows it. It's just… hard to admit when you're wrong."
"He'll have to be able to admit when he's wrong. Sometimes that's life or death," Bruce reminded me. I nodded.
"I just hope you don't go too hard on him," I said in a low voice. It masked all that I wasn't saying about my time with Jason: all the hours I had spent training him, teaching him how to use the Batcomputer, how to analyze things critically, how to find answers even when the police couldn't, how to fight. Bruce looked pensively a moment.
"His birthday is in two weeks," Bruce said quietly. "I'd been hoping to give him the suit then… start his training more fully." I inhaled deeply through my nose, weighing how much Jason and Dick and I had wanted this to happen, knowing how distraught Jason would feel to know he had put it all in jeopardy by acting so impulsively.
"Maybe you still can," I tried to reassure him. "He made a mistake. We all make mistakes. Hell, I just got poisoned by Scarecrow," I reminded him. "It's about how he comes back from that mistake. How he makes himself better from here. And it'll be hard for him to do that if you cut off all his access." Bruce nodded contemplatively to himself.
"You should get home," he advised me. "It's been a long week. You deserve some rest." I nodded.
"Goodnight, Bruce," I said as I turned to head upstairs, grabbing my bag on the way out. The last glimpse I had of him before leaving the cave, he stood leaning over the keyboard of the massive computer, lost in thoughts over Jason.
As I ascended in the elevator, I pulled out my phone and texted Dick.
You still awake? Want me to come over? Got a lot to catch you up on.
The elevator stopped and I stepped into the library, adjusting the strap on my shoulder.
"He's really pissed, huh?" Jason asked from the darkness of the room. I released a heavy breath.
"You really shouldn't have done that, Jason," I scolded him.
"Look, I get it. I'm not a member of the club yet. But I think it's bullshit how I'm stuck on the sidelines and the one time I'm actually able to get something done…"
"It's not about that, Jason," I shook my head.
"Yeah, I…" Jason interrupted me, his hands going to his head in frustration. "I know." I nodded softly, understanding that he was still too frustrated to talk about it just yet.
"I think I might have convinced him to give you another chance," I offered. Jason's spirit seemed to lift with that. "But you've gotta be able to admit you messed up. And you need to try to make up for it."
"How am I supposed to…"
"I don't know," I shrugged. "But you need to figure it out." A buzz came from my phone.
"Who's that?" Jason asked. I couldn't tell him it was Dick.
"Colleen," I shrugged off. "My alibi." Jason gave a small nod.
"Good job tonight," Jason acknowledged. "With Scarecrow. Smart thinking, using the explosive gel on the batarang." I smiled and nodded back.
"Thanks," I answered. I patted him on the shoulder as I passed him, leaving the library and heading for the garage. As I sat in my car, I pulled up the text from Dick.
Dick Grayson, 6m ago
Yeah, come over. What happened?
I typed back: too much over text. I'll tell you soon. Be there in 45.
By the time I got to his place, I wasn't in the mood to debrief Dick (either on the updates of the evening or otherwise). After a sleepless week and the relief I got from locking up Joker and Scarecrow, my body seemed finally ready to turn in.
We sat on his couch, my legs stretched across his lap as I sleepily explained what Jason had done and how we caught him. "He's getting cocky," Dick shook his head.
"Wonder where he gets that from," I smiled sarcastically. Dick's hands grabbed at my feet to tickle and I jerked them back cheerfully.
"If he's not careful, he could blow it all. Everything we've been working towards," Dick said again, his hands resting on my shins.
"He'll make it right," I said, resigned. "He understands the stakes. He'll make it right."
"And if he doesn't?" Dick asked, clearly not so resigned as I was. I let out a tired breath.
"Then maybe he isn't ready to be Robin," I answered. Dick shook his head and I could see the argument formulating in his mind. "Look, I think he is. That's why I'm confident he's going to make this right. But if he can't, or won't, then that's a problem."
"Maybe I can talk to Bruce, get him to ease up…"
"Dick," I cautioned him, sitting up and putting a hand on top of his. "This is Jason's mistake. Let him fix it. He's going to be fine." Dick nodded thoughtfully, his eyes low a moment. When his gaze lifted to me again, a smile crept across his lips. "What?" I asked self-consciously.
"You look exhausted," he almost laughed at me. I smiled back and rolled my eyes.
"Geez, Romeo, you're gonna make me swoon if you keep sweet-talking me like that," I laughed. "It's been a long week."
"It has," he acknowledged. "Let's get you to bed…"
"I shouldn't," I waved him away as I lifted my legs out of his lap. "I should get home. Dad met Batgirl for the first time tonight… just in case he's harboring any suspicions, I want it crystal clear that I was home all night."
"Barb, it's almost 4am…" Dick tried to persuade me.
"Which means that dawn will break soon, which is often the cue to my dad to say, 'whoa, what time is it? I should get home.' So I gotta get myself moving," I said, slipping my feet back into my shoes. Dick's head rolled back in exasperation.
"When are you moving?" Dick asked. "This whole sneaking around like teenagers thing is getting old."
"Just a couple weeks," I said as my heel thunked into the shoe. "Right around Jason's birthday, probably."
"Need someone for the heavy lifting?" Dick asked, somehow making the offer sound suggestive.
"I think I can manage," I squinted playfully at him and leaned over, placing my hand on his chest and kissing him softly. "Besides, Wayne Tech provided me with a moving stipend, so most of the big furniture has arrived already. Dad will help me move the boxes."
"Sure. I'm sure Commissioner Gordon hates losing his little girl," Dick said, standing beside me as I got ready to go.
"He's not losing me. I'm just moving down the street…"
"Barb. I'm teasing."
"I know," I waved him away. "It's just… a sore subject," I said. I wasn't sure if that subject felt so sore just because I was tired, or if the effects of Scarecrow's hallucinations still had some kind of hold.
An uninvited memory of the hallucinations resurfaced- the memory of my parents splitting apart.
"You're not taking her."
"You can't take care of her Jim! You work all the time, you come home in stitches…"
"You're not taking my little girl!"
"You're gonna get her killed!"
"Barb?" Dick's voice snapped me back to reality. I closed my eyes, blinking away the memory and releasing a controlled breath. "You okay?"
"Yeah," I said softly, my voice feeling like it was caught on something. "Sorry, just… tired."
"You sure I can't convince you to sleep here, just for a little while?" he asked, but this time it sounded less suggestive and more worried. I shook my head with a smile.
"I'm good, but thanks," I said, picking up my bag and heading for the elevator. "But I want to hear about what you found out on Sprang Bridge… anything good?"
"I'll fill you in tomorrow," he said with a headshake. "Nothing totally clear, though there were two different blood signatures on the scene. I'm running them both through the systems now to see if I can get a hit."
"Then let's talk tomorrow… you have work?"
"Yeah. Give me a call tomorrow night, I'll catch you up," he said, opening the elevator door and allowing me to step in. I leaned in close to him once more and kissed him before stepping back into the elevator. "Get some sleep," he urged me. "'Night, Barb."
The elevator doors closed and I was carried down to the parking garage. I rushed home and threw myself into bed, my hair still crusty with sweat. I didn't care; I was exhausted and wanted to be fast asleep before Dad got home.
I slept for 3 hours before I heard the keys jangle in the front door. I hadn't gotten nearly enough sleep, but I wanted dad to see me before passing out himself. I poked my head out of the bedroom door and watched him throw open the door, his body sagging with exhaustion.
"Dad," I said, wiping my eyes, "you're just getting home?"
"Barbara," Dad answered as he closed and locked the door behind him, putting his guns and a stack of paperwork down on the table by the door and wiping his forehead. "It was a long night."
"Weren't you just giving a tour to some journalists?" I asked, feigning cluelessness.
"Batman and Batgirl brought Scarecrow and Joker into custody last night," he said, heading for the kitchen. I followed him around the corner in my sweatpants and pajama shirt, my hair still a fluffy mess. "Ah… no coffee?" he groaned as he looked at the empty pot on the counter.
"No, I just woke up," I said, trying to look peppier than I was.
"Hope I didn't wake you," Dad said, too tired to look thoughtful as he scooped Folgers grounds into a coffee filter.
"It's fine," I assured him, stepping past him to the cupboard and pulling down two water glasses. "Scarecrow and Joker, huh? How did that happen?"
"Joker and Harley Quinn stole a truck, drove it into the river. Batman caught Joker. He said Batgirl took down Scarecrow single-handed. Don't know where he finds these teammates- first Robin, now Batgirl. She looks just as good as Robin ever did," my dad described as he stared at the gurgling coffee machine. I smiled to myself as I filled the glasses and passed one to him.
"Harley Quinn- she got away?" I asked.
"In a manner of speaking," he said, holding his coffee cup lazily as he waited. "Batman said Joker pushed her out of the truck they stole as a tactic to get Batman off his tail, but he didn't fall for it. GCPD cameras around the city caught a glimpse of her getting away. She was injured in the fall, but not so badly that she'd need to go to a hospital. We'll find her."
"Wow. Busy night. Bet the journalists loved it," I smiled as I took a sip of water. That got a tired laugh out of him.
"Huh. Yeah. If the journos were happy about it, Warden Sharp was ecstatic. He was all too excited to talk about how Arkham Asylum would be able to contain them and reform them," Dad said, grabbing the coffee pot before it had finished it's work to fill his cup. Drips of coffee sizzled hotly as they hit the warming plate below. Dad replaced the pot so the machine could finish its work in peace and took a long swig of coffee.
"You should be going to bed, Dad," I said, glaring at him over his cup of coffee. He lowered his cup and gave me a stout look back.
"I will, I will. Just need to get some more paperwork done first.."
"Dad…"
"I've gotta file incident reports for each and every one of those journalists that were onsite last night when Batman came in. It's bullshit, but as soon as I don't do it, the Gotham Herald will sue the crap out of the city for civilian endangerment, and then this Batman-dangerous-vigilante conversation starts all over again. I don't have time for it, but I do have time for some bullshit paperwork," he said.
I left him to the paperwork and went back to bed, sleeping for a few more hours. By the time I got up again, around 11:30, Dad had fallen asleep again on the sofa, a stack of paperwork on his leg and cold coffee on the table. I left a note saying I was going to the gym and quietly left for Bruce's. Bruce was out at some Wayne Foundation ribbon cutting so I had the Batcave all to myself. I worked out for a while, played around in the Augmented Reality Chamber, then got to work at the Batcomputer logging everything that had happened the night before. It felt immensely satisfying to close the case files that had been open on Scarecrow and Joker. The room seemed to brighten as soon as their files minimized and faded to the background of our feed.
It also helped me to see past them as distractions and remind myself of the other outstanding threats that were on our list: Black Mask and his slow move out of Gotham; Harley Quinn and her involvement in the Suicide Squad; Penguin and his Iceberg Lounge, which seemed like a hotbed of illegal activity; and, of course, I was sure Batman would be eager to revisit the Red Hood sightings, even if Joker was in the asylum. Plus, there was whatever incident Nightwing was investigating on Sprang Bridge.
It wasn't like we had time to dawdle. There were plenty of things to do.
That night, Batman headed out to the asylum in gear to talk with the warden and my Dad about keeping Bane, and the facility, secure. I met with Nightwing to debrief about the incident on Sprang Bridge.
"It got worse," Nightwing explained to me in the Batcave as he keyed up his research. "I've found three other homicides in the past 24 hours that have similar M.O.'s. The bodies are homeless people, usually found in secluded but still public spaces. And CSI are consistently finding two blood types; one of them is consistent through all of them."
"That's not wholly strange," I tried to run the statistics in my head. "There are only so many blood types. And there are roughly 750 homicides in Gotham annually. I'm not sure if this screams serial killer to me…"
"But the blood type is too unique: AB negative. To have that one blood type consistent at four crime scenes all in the same day? All within walking distance of each other? The pattern is too strong," Dick explained. I bit my lower lip as I thought.
"So… there are two blood types at each crime scene. That means the victims are probably fighting back at their killer. Some kind of fight club?" I asked speculatively.
"I don't think so. Not on a bridge sidewalk, or with drunk hobos at 3am," Dick shook his head.
"Then how is this person's blood getting out at each crime scene?" I asked. Dick looked up at the computer screens with tight lips.
"I don't know," he said. "But it's a pattern, and we can't ignore it." I nodded.
"Alright," I answered as I sat down in front of the keyboard, trying to see if I could find any other patterns in the evidence he had logged from the crime scenes. "If you're right and this is a serial killer, they'll probably strike again. Keep your eyes out for more homicide cases."
"I will," Nightwing answered, taking a step closer behind me. "By the way," he whispered as he leaned towards my ear, "it's so hard to resist you when you're wearing this suit."
"Not here," I smiled as I whispered back to him.
"Tonight?" he asked, his voice hopeful. I exhaled a quiet laugh as I shook my head.
"I promise," I answered. He made a soft kiss sound next to my ear and backed away, heading for his bike.
"I'm going out on patrol- call me, beep me, if you wanna reach me," he sang in a playful tone as I kept working. Once I heard his motorcycle zip out of the Batcave, I grabbed my phone and texted dad and Colleen my cover story. It was a Saturday night, and thus totally believable that Colleen and I were headed out to the clubs.
As I prepared to head out on my own patrol for the night, Alfred managing the computer in my absence, a call came over the radio.
"Batgirl," Alfred called to me as I finished loading up my belt with gadgets. He turned up the volume on the 911 call scanner.
"… an attack at the Iceberg Lounge. The proprietor, Oswald Cobblepot, was stabbed in the face. Shrapnel is stuck in the skin and may be containing some of the permanent damage for now," the dispatcher called through the radio.
"This is Patrol 747 responding, we can head to Iceberg Lounge…"
"Negative, Patron 747. Caller indicated the assailant, male, mid-thirties, already left, heading for Amusement Mile," the dispatcher clarified. I furrowed my brow.
"That can't be good," I said as I slipped my cowl over my head.
"Where will you go?" Alfred called out to me as I headed towards my motorcycle.
"Amusement Mile," I answered. "Something's not right. No one's stabbing Penguin in the face and getting away with it. I have a feeling he'll be headed to Amusement Mile escorted by Penguin's thugs… probably won't end well." I revved the bike to life and clicked on my communicator, opening the line to Batman, Nightwing, and Alfred. "Batman, Penguin was attacked."
"By who?" he asked grimly.
"Unknown male, mid-thirties assailant. Ambulance is picking Penguin up now. Dispatch said something about the assailant being taken to Amusement Mile, I'm heading there now to find out what's going on," I said as I zipped out of the Batcave and towards Old Gotham.
"I'll head to Elliot Memorial. Penguin will request that hospital. I'll see if I can isolate him and get any information about his attacker out of him. If this is another attack coordinated by Joker, we've got a problem," Batman said.
"Joker? Did you say Joker?" I could vaguely hear the voice of my dad behind him. Batman cut his end of the line, leaving me, Alfred, and Nightwing.
"If you locate the assailant, be careful, Batgirl," Nightwing cautioned me. "It could be the killer I've been tracking."
"I'm doubtful," I answered as I wove my bike around traffic. "Every other homicide was in an isolated area, typically victimizing a vagrant. An attack on Penguin in his own club doesn't fit the pattern."
"Still."
"You got it," I said, clicking off the line. When I finally arrived in Amusement Mile, I left my bike parked in an alley and grappled to a high rooftop, searching for signs of the assailant.
I started to grow concerned about how I'd locate him. It was a busy Saturday night. From my perch, I watched the sidewalks buzz with life outside the Gotham Casino and Olympus Nightclub; the freeway buzzed with traffic, all Ubers and cabs and Lyfts ferrying intoxicated partygoers from venue to venue; even the Sea Pier was filled with motion, sappy teenage dates and lonely gamblers who had bet big and lost it all. Somewhere in this mess was a male in his mid-thirties who had the privilege of maiming Penguin and escaping with his life.
A commotion of horns and screeching brakes on the freeway caught my attention as an unmarked truck pulled off to the thin shoulder, its hazards blinking. It didn't look like the truck was damaged, so I stared curiously down at the truck as the driver exited the cab and carefully shimmied down the side of the truck away from traffic. He wore a black beanie and thick hooded sweatshirt. He opened the back of the truck and pulled something down off it, then closed the truck again: it was a man. He reached out at the driver and tried to grab onto him, screaming something, but the driver pushed him away and kicked him to the ground.
This looked like the best lead I was going to get.
I leapt from the rooftop and began gliding towards the truck as the driver hurried back to the front seat. Almost causing a major accident, the truck pulled back into the lane and began speeding along. The man he'd removed from the truck was still stuck on the side of the road. He stood slowly, his face bloody and his hands shaking as he reached out in front of him. He was standing in the middle of a lane, and as a horn blared at him his hands raised in the air and he backed away from the oncoming car, towards the other lanes of traffic.
He was running out of time. I pulled my arms closer to my body so that my momentum would increase. I landed just as one car screeched to a halt in front of the man, but the car behind it wouldn't be able to stop in time. I wrapped my arm around the man, who jostled with panic as I touched him, and shot my grapnel to a rooftop just off the freeway. We were pulled away as the cars collided. A moment longer, and the man (and possibly I) would have been roadkill. When we arrived on the rooftop, I dropped his body and turned back to the freeway to assess the accident that had ensued.
Four cars had slammed into each other as they'd tried to keep from hitting the man. I flicked on my detective mode as the traffic came to a halt around the accident, everyone concerned for the safety of the drivers. My cowl detected elevated heartrates and movement from all the cars: no fatalities. I raised my hand to my comm unit.
"Call EMTs. There's been a major accident on the Gotham Freeway," I said.
"Of course," Alfred answered.
"Please… where am I…" the man behind me called in a panicked whisper. I turned around confusedly to face him. The man I had saved was still on all fours, his hands frantically feeling around the rooftop as he tried to approach me. Dried blood streamed down face, and I finally identified the empty sockets where his eyes used to be. I stifled the astonished curse words that rose in my throat and stepped closer to him.
"You're safe now," I answered as I helped him shift his weight to sit down. "Cobblepot did this to you?" I asked.
"He… I would have found a way to pay. I didn't mean to…" he slurred his words and I realized he was drunk. He'd had one hell of a night.
"I'm going to get you to safety, alright?" I assured him. "For now, I need you to stay exactly where you are and wait here. I need to make sure everyone on the freeway is safe. Then I'll get you to the hospital."
"Who are you?" he asked as his hands felt over my gauntlets. I smiled to myself as I helped him to sit.
"Stay here," I replied, then glided back down to the freeway. Some of the cars at the back of the pileup had unloaded, their drivers and passengers rubbing their necks and making their way towards cars at the front to see if they were okay. I went straight for the car at the front of the line, which had taken the hardest hits. It had been slammed into the median on one of the collisions.
"Marcus? Baby?" I could hear from within the car as I approached.
"Jesus, it's Batgirl!" a voice from behind me called as I opened the car door. The driver was conscious, a line of blood from her scalp. The passenger was awake but completely dazed as he leaned into the airbag.
"Miss, are you alright?" I asked her.
"My boyfriend, he's not answering…"
"I'm going to help him," I tried to assuage her. "But I need to help you first. Are you alright? Does anything feel broken?"
"No, I don't… I don't think so… there was a man in the road…"
"I know, and he's safe," I assured her as I leaned forward and cut the seatbelt with my gauntlet. "If you're alright, I'd like to see if we can get you out of the car." I helped her to slowly exit the car, taking careful steps. A driver from one of the other cars, with a seriously bruised forehead, was standing behind me, his camera phone pointed at me.
"Help her," I directed him. He seemed completely shaken by my order but did as I said. He put his phone away and reached his arms out to her to keep her standing. I climbed into the car from the driver's side door, since the car had been pressed to the median in such a way that the passenger door was inaccessible. "Marcus?" I called to him as I cut his seatbelt. I scanned him over using my detective mode: his skull was cracked and his right arm was broken, but aside from a serious concussion he was going to be okay. "Can you hear me?"
"Mmm," he answered. "I… got hurt," he said. His words were beyond slurred: between the concussion and obvious drunken state, he wasn't in a great state.
"Can you move, Marcus? We need to get you out of the car," I directed him as I reached my hands under his arm pits.
"No… I'll wait here," he groaned, and immediately leaned forward and retched a bright green vomit down his front. I yanked under his armpits and pulled him out of his seat and through the driver's side door. I began to hear sirens in the distance as I pulled his body down to the concrete.
"Marcus!" the woman yelled at him as she limped to him, leaning over him.
"He's going to be alright," I assured her. "He has a concussion and some fractures, but he should be fine with medical attention."
"Yo, Batgirl just saved us!" another passenger was taking a selfie video, pointing the camera down at himself and catching me in the background. I grappled away, back to the rooftop I had left the blind man on. I brought him back just as the ambulances were arriving on the scene and sat him down beside the concussed Marcus.
"This man needs medical attention as well," I told the woman who sat beside Marcus. "He was attacked by Oswald Cobblepot." The woman nodded at me as she looked frightened into the man's face.
"Batgirl, can I get a selfie for the gram?" the passenger from before asked. I had half a mind to take his phone and throw it off the bridge, but instead I grappled away before he could get another image of me for the internet.
"The situation on the Gotham Freeway is dealt with," I told Batman through the comms. "The assailant was attacked by Penguin's men: they gouged both his eyes out and dropped him on the Gotham Freeway. He'll be heading to the hospital soon- probably Gotham General."
"Good work," Batman acknowledged. "From what I can tell, it was an isolated event. Not Joker related. He racked up too much debt gambling and couldn't pay it off. Stabbed Penguin in the eye with a broken bottle."
"Yeesh," I cringed to myself. "Is Penguin going to make it?"
"He should," Batman assured me. "The surgeons are worried that if they remove the bottle, it may cause damage to the frontal lobe. He's hoping a particular surgeon will take the case anyway."
"Which surgeon is that?"
"The best I know," Batman commented. "Thomas Elliot."
"As in Elliot Memorial?"
"That's right. He's a longtime friend of Bruce Wayne," Batman added. I nodded. "But I can't find him. Not sure where he's gotten to."
"You're not trying to find him to help Penguin, are you?" I asked.
"No," Batman answered. "Just curious that he's MIA, is all."
We continued our evenings apart: Batman continued looking for Thomas Elliot, and I kept eyes on the ambulances carrying Penguin's victim and the other Freeway accident survivors. Around 2am, I returned my motorcycle and suit to the Batcave, then went to Dick's apartment for the evening. We had our own fun for an hour or so, then turned in for the night.
I woke to the feel of silky sheets draped between my bare legs, sunlight streaming in through the windows, and the smell of fresh coffee. I slipped my naked body out of the sheets and pulled on one of Dick's oversized tee shirts, stepping into his living room as I tussled my hair.
"Good morning," I moaned.
"Mm, it is now," Dick answered, wearing only pajama pants and holding a cup of coffee for me. He set it down in front of me on the counter and put both hands on the back of my head, pushing his lips against mine in a deep, full kiss. I smiled up at him as I gratefully grabbed the coffee cup. "You read the paper?" he asked as he stepped away, picking up a folded newspaper from the counter.
"Not always," I answered, shaking my head at the unusual question.
"Well I found a particularly fascinating article this morning," he said, dropping the Gotham Herald paper in front of me.
A picture of me in my Batgirl suit standing in front of cars with blinding headlights, standing protectively over the bodies of Marcus, the blind man, and the injured woman was plastered across the front page. Above the picture, the headline screamed to me: WHO IS BATGIRL?