Interlude 2: Ninety Degrees to Normal
DISCLAIMER: the characters portrayed herein belong to DC, Warner Bros and their affiliates. Not me. I'm simply borrowing them briefly.
SPECIAL NOTE: This fic is respectfully dedicated to Melissa, Kay, Cathy and Paula, none of whom technically had anything to do with any of the writing process. For teaching, understanding, re-organising schedules, and calm experience. You gave me enough rope to let me do the all things I could, but not enough to hang myself. For this I remain profoundly grateful. (Finishing by nine-thirty both nights was a distinct bonus, too.)
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BATGIRL AND ORACLE
Neither Batgirl, nor the accompanying Oracle was particularly surprised to finding Nightwing and Robin in the Cave. The first was flipping his way gracefully across the uneven bars and balance beam. The second, with no less enthusiasm, was demolishing a plate of Alfred's double choc-chip cookies and milk.
"A bit hungry, munchkin?" Oracle questioned by way of greeting. She was answered with an affirmative nod from the boy in question, and a quick warning glance from the man behind him, the look softening almost immediately into one of affection.
Dick's right, he does look a bit skinny still. Damn that Doctor. She thought ruffling the younger boy's hair, ignoring the slightly synthetic feel of it. Synthetic? Well, we all have our little secrets. At any rate, he needs to eat. Just as Batgirl and I need to. With that, she swiped a cookie off the plate, Cassandra rapidly following her lead.
One theft he could deal with. But two? And one of them the last cookie?
"Hey!" Robin pouted, the wounded look he shot at the pair the most human expression he'd worn in months.
It was that glance that decided Batgirl, that and the body language behind it. Something had changed in her young friend, and for the better. Now she had to see if she could further that shift, develop it a little more, and let it flower into the pure beauty of spirit that she knew Robin still possessed.
No time like the present to try. She flashed Robin a very feral, very toothy, grin. "Fight you . . . for it."
His answering smirk matched her own.
"You're on!"
There were no words. Then again, they needed none.
The sparring match started out innocently enough on the large matted dojo area of the cave. The two combatants even managed to keep it there for a few minutes, before spiralling into the freewheeling artistry of combat that they both excelled in. Jabbing, feinting and leaping, Robin and Batgirl sparred their way around the cave, bouncing off gymnastic equipment, walls, floors and computers with equal grace and aplomb, neither gaining the upper hand.
Neither of them were really seeking it, though. To an untutored observer, the combat would have borne a chilling similarity to the life and death struggle on a rooftop several moons ago. But there were no untutored observers present, and though even the Bat-trained people there were having trouble following the speed of the movements, it was none-the-less apparent that this was a serious, but not lethal match.
Part of the reason it was obvious was the lopsided grin that had slashed its way across Cassandra's normally stoic features. She wasn't out for blood, but for a much greater prize, cookies. So was Robin. To one side, Barbara simply settled for holding the plate steady, the contested treasure in isolated splendour on the tray, as next to her Nightwing watched with rapt intensity.
He's good, Nightwing realised with a shade of discomfort, very, very good. Better than I am, better than Batman. On par with Batgirl. Like her, his style is as defined by the moves he doesn't make as by those he does. By the carefully restrained lethality. All that power, all that skill, directed into non-fatal force. He drew in a short breath. It had been, he was beginning to realise, as much sheer dumb luck as any effort on the Bat-family's part that had averted Batman's murder at the hands of the altered Timothy some time earlier. The thought was more than a little sobering. Thank God he's on our side.
Robin's thoughts, though not as dire, were equally as focussed. He was not going to let that cookie go without a fight. Though to be honest, I'm enjoying the fight even more than I would the cookie. Not that I'll ever tell Batgirl – or Alfred – that! His train of thought was derailed by a remarkable three-hit combination that Cassandra flowed into with the liquid grace of a lifetime's practice. His counter, created on the spot, was equally flawless, a response, not only thought, but felt. To observers, it was merely another exchange in an already breathtaking combat. But within one of the two participants, everything had changed. It had not been a simple block at all. It had been an answer, the opening rejoinder of a conversation of body and movement.
Robin was mildly startled at the ease with which they spoke in gestures after that. It was no small trick, though easily learned (at least, for him). He could see how Cassandra had so rapidly regained it under Shiva's self-interested tutelage. It's just a . . .dodge, kick . . . manner of thinking of things . . .punch. . . . that's ninety degrees to normal. . . parry, thrust. Cassandra's widening grin, combined with a flurry of blows, expressed her joy at his discovery. It was a delight that matched his own.
Happy? I am happy? . . . Leap, spinning kick . . .Kaze, this feeling. . . punch, summersault. . . is this . . . whirling tumble, bounce off monitor . . . pleasure? Happiness? Pirouette, snap-kick . . .it is, isn't it!? I've learned something else about myself! This feeling . . . this is my happiness!
Robin leapt at that, straight up in the air, flipping over at the last minute to plant his feet firmly against a convenient stalactite and with a bunching push of wiry strength from his legs, send himself hurtling earthward. The batarangs he flung as he tumbled down were deftly intercepted by the likewise acrobatic Batgirl, who stretched out a lazy hand to pick them from the air.
This, of course, was exactly as he'd intended.
The paintball cartridges he'd loaded onto the small projectiles exploded on impact with Batgirl's gloves, showering the black leather-clad vigilante with a rainbow of hues, each brighter than the last.
There was a moment of sheer, utter silence as all present in the cave registered what had just happened. Robin had landed a solid hit on Batgirl! Indirectly, and arguably by 'cheating', but still a solid, palpable hit.
Then an esteemed British gentleman, one who'd entered the cave unseen during the furious combat, cleared his throat.
"I shall ready the laundry. Miss Cassandra, a fresh set of clothes is waiting for you by the change rooms. Master Robin, I take it you used the water-soluble variety?" The threat, subtle though unmistakably dire, was definitely present.
"uh . . . yeah, Alfred. Water-soluble." I hope.
Turning, he grinned ruefully at his paint-dripping counterpart. I guess, he communicated with a tilt of his head, the party's over.
Batgirl, wringing fluorescent pink from her gloves, faced him with a liquid shrug. Her fingers flicked ever so rapidly in Alfred's direction as she nodded her response. Yeah. And guess what? Alfred won, so he gets that cookie!
Nobody was more surprised than Robin himself at the sound that followed. Rusty and hesitant, it displayed amply the disused state in which it had spent so much time. Not for long, though. It was soon joined by another, heartier and more sure, familiar with frequent use. Then another and another, and finally a fourth. The four sounds, cheerful and sure, bolstered the first, mellowing it into a bell-like tone of joy.
Laughter. Two laughs of delight at a joke, three of relief and disbelief at the sound of the first.
Robin laughed, chortling until his sides ached and his tears ran. From happiness, from amusement, from the sheer thrill of being able to do so, Robin laughed.
Behind him, Oracle and Nightwing exchange glances and relieved mirth of their own.
"She told him a joke! With her body-language, she told him a joke!"
"Yeah, and get this! He laughed!" Together, they chuckled, comforted and delighted for the youngest member of their 'family'.
Unspoken, but not unfelt, the sentiment settled onto the Cave. A rare feeling in this place, one of contented optimism. It's going to be okay. Robin, everything, it really is going to be okay!
In the change room, Cassandra chuckled again around the mouthful of cookies Alfred had slipped her. Mission accomplished!
END Interlude 2