The glass doors to the emergency room swooshed open. Grayson strolled in, bypassing triage. Around him bustled a chaotic team of nurses, EMTs, and doctors. A petite Latina nurse in navy blue scrubs holding a clipboard ran in front of him to chase down a heavyset doctor to his left. Grayson adjusted his pace according to the nearest group of workers; speeding up to get passed a gurney before it ran over his foot, or slowing down to let two nurses deep in conversation cross his path, oblivious to the visitor. All the while, Grayson's nearly poetic manoeuvring was centred around not spilling the two cups of rather large coffee he carried in both hands.
As he made his way through the main lobby of urgent care, taking a left down a significantly quieter hallway, he felt disheartened about his clear numbness of the gore and violence surrounding him. He had walked through Gotham General's emergency hundreds of times in his years as Robin; on route to question a perp, checking on a victim, watching someone die when he wasn't fast enough. It used to give him remorse. Now, he barely noticed the people around him crying out for help; screaming through the pain.
He turned the corner down a corridor capped with a No Admittance swinging door, lined on the right with plastic, orange chairs. Some of his longest nights were spent in those chairs. He felt another long night on the horizon for him and Barbara.
He saw her sitting not too far from the door at the end of the hallway, clearly told to stay like an obedient dog as the nurses took her unconscious friend through to the other side. Her feet were crossed in front of her, legs straight. Her hands were folded into a tight ball on her stomach, head down so her hair masked her face. She look wilted; defeated. He wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her, bury her head on his chest and let her know everything would be okay. Even if he was being erroneous, it just felt good to have someone say it. He knew from experience.
Instead, he stood beside her, holding out his right hand. The scent of coffee lifted her head. She firstly saw the large J on the side of the brown and white paper cup, then, looking passed the heavenly aromatic liquid of life, saw a dejected Grayson looking down at her. His eyes were large, brow narrowed, and lips curled into a sympathetic smile; trying to be lighthearted, but also knowing the gravity of her concern. She needed less empathy, more distraction.
She took the warm cup in both hands, motioning with her head for him to take a seat, which he did gladly. He sat with his elbows on his knees so he had to look behind him to meet her gaze. She placed one hand on his back, feeling the slow rhythm of his breathing.
"Thank you," she mumbled into the cup as she slurped the sweetened caffeine. A small grin splayed her mouth with the knowledge that he remembered how she took her coffee.
"Any word?" He glanced at the doors to their right, motionless for the last twenty minutes.
"Not since they took her back there," Barbara quietly mumbled into her chest. She felt her eyes well with tears, and took a deep breath. She had been alone for just over half an hour, over ten minutes of that she spent crying from fear of Frankie's wellbeing, frustration for not knowing what happened, and anger for predicting it would be tied to Greg and his drug ring. She had so much tension building inside of her she knew it would be let out on someone eventually, she just had to make sure it was the person who deserved it the most.
Grayson knew she needed a distraction. Alone on rooftops during endless nights of patrolling, she would get aggressively attached to a case. If he wasn't in her ear relieving tension, he knew she would snap. Tonight was no different.
"So, how's the thesis coming?" He kicked himself. He couldn't have sounded more fatherly, more bumbling. This was Babs. His best friend. He'd known her since grade school. And the best he could do was ask about homework? Luckily, her need for distraction was well outweighed by her ability to detect his awkwardness.
"Fine."
He thought he'd try again.
"Babs, that take down of Mount St. Douchebag tonight was class act. I was fairly impressed." Success. A small grin emerged onto Barbara's grave face remembering the actions only a couple hours ago.
"I'm fairly certain if I hadn't made the first move, you were on your way over to break his nose. At least my way, his face stayed in tact."
"But not his ego. Much more damaging for a man like that," Grayson added. Finally she laughed. She looked up from her coffee, connecting with his deep, ocean blue eyes. They always had a glimmer to them, as if speckled with a dust of diamond.
"So," Barbara started slowly. "Are we just not going to address the kiss?" His face lit up.
"I kissed you, Babs. Get over it," he playfully poked at her. She jabbed his shoulder harder than she had intended.
"Yes. You did. You need to stop doing that," they were both smiling at each other, wondering if either would break and be serious for a moment.
"Not a chance, Gordon," Grayson leaned back in his chair, bringing one leg up, ankle perched on his other knee. He wrapped his arm around Barbara's shoulders, lightly pulling her in. Her head landed on his chest. Grayson bent his head down, his lips nestled into her hair. He could smell her shampoo; bergamot and mint. He adored her smell. He adored her.
"Where did you go two years ago?" Barbara asked. She hadn't moved from his hug, her head was burrowed in his chest. Her tone was not what he expected; lonely, not angry. She deserved an answer for his absence.
"I needed to leave Gotham. It was the right time. You were holding your own, Jason didn't need a watchful eye, at least not by me," Grayson tried his hardest to explain himself, but felt he was coming up short. He took a long breath, and Barbara let him take his time.
"This is going to sound ridiculous. But I didn't know who I was. I was defined by Robin. And Nightwing. But I couldn't tell you what it meant to be Dick. So I left. I did some soul searching, I guess you could say. Found out what life is like outside of Wayne Manor. I'm going to be honest with you, it's shitty. Having a butler is nothing to scoff at," Grayson felt a chuckle escape Barbara. She stayed silent though, waiting for him to finish. He took a deep breath.
"I was lost, Barbara. I was surrounded by violence, so I became it. I was turning in to someone I thought was inhuman. I thought if I had said goodbye, to you, to Jason, to Bruce, I wouldn't have been able to leave. So I disappeared. And I feel terrible I left that way. I hope you believe that," she looked up at him, adjusting to sit back in her chair. She turned her body to face his, bringing one knee up to her chest, curling her arms around her leg.
"Of course," she said quietly.
"But what?" He knew she had something to say to him. Something she didn't have the chance to say before he left or since he'd come back.
"When you came back, you didn't apologize. You left me, alone, without any answers. Every night I was worried. It took everything in me to believe you weren't dead. In the end, it was easier to think you were. Dead. I pretended, so that I could move on. And then, one night, you're there. No 'hey, Babs,' no 'sorry I've been gone for 15 months,' no 'I'm happy to see you.'"
"Hey," Grayson stopped Barbara. "I did say I was happy to see you."
"Fine." Barbara's memory of him hopping on his bike after helping her take down nine guys during a drug deal in progress, then casually turning to her saying 'good to see you,' before speeding out of view, did not qualify as a satisfying reunion. But she wasn't going to push the issue.
"You're right," Grayson sighed, seeing her face flush while she held back her true anger at him. He knew she was right. And he needed to admit it aloud.
"Babs, I'm sorry. I was cowardly for not saying good bye. It was the easy solution." He saw the tension release from her shoulders as if she'd been holding on to this moment with anticipation for the last ten months.
"Truth be told," he took a pause while he brought his hand up behind her neck, caressing his thumb just under her earlobe. "If I had gone to say goodbye to you, I wouldn't have left. I would stay and I would get worse. And I would either drag you down with me, or lose you forever."
Barbara wanted to forgive him. She wanted the last two years to disappear, to forget her pain, his suffering, their loneliness. She wanted to go back to the last time she had seen him before he left.
The happy memory dashed away quickly as both their heads whipped around at the sound of the swinging door hitting the concrete walls. A slim doctor came out holding a chart by her hips. She was no taller than Barbara, her blonde hair in a high, messy bun. Her scrubs were clean save for a small stain by her ankle, and her coat was a spotless white.
Barbara sprang up to meet her.
"Barbara Gordon?" The doctor referenced her chart for the name of admitting attendee. Barbara nodded, silently awaiting the news.
"I'm Dr. Grace Allen, the attending physician here tonight. Frankie will be fine," the doctor started. Good move, doc, Grayson thought to himself as he noticed Barbara visibly letting out a long breath.
"There are high traces of epinephrine in her blood steam, that would have spiked her adrenaline. Glucose levels were also abnormally high for someone with her health history. And it says here you claimed her pupils were dilated before she passed out?" Barbara nodded as Allen read the admittance notes from
Frankie's chart.
"It sounds like she was scared of something. Or someone. All signs point to her brain sensing an immense amount of fear. She's still unconscious though. We'll run further tests and call you when she wakes up. You did the right thing bringing her here, Barbara. I'll look after her." Doctor Allen directed her gaze at Grayson, her voice dropped the professionalism: "Tell your dad I say hi." She smiled as she flipped her chart closed and turned to disappear behind the swinging grey doors.
Grayson stood up behind Barbara, immersing her tired body in his arms. She let her weight fall into his grip; their last conversation forgotten for another time.
"I'll be okay." She pushed away from his hold to take a seat. She knew she would be here for at least another few hours. She couldn't bring herself to leave just yet.
She looked up at Grayson, who was starring at the wall behind her. She could tell his mind was searching through every word the doctor had given them, already looking for a clue.
"You can head home," Barbara reassured Grayson.
"I know," he said, coming out of his daze, as he took a seat beside her again. He grabbed his coffee, resting his elbows on his knees. Barbara placed her hand on his back, feeling his breath move up and down slowly. This is just where he wanted to be.