Her fingers flew deftly over the keyboard, sliding off the plastic with
just enough force to allow the letter to be recognized by the system. A
stream of words appeared on the screen as she typed. Every search engine on
the internet began to work it's proverbial ass off to complete the demanded
functions.
She turned slightly, just enough to examine another screen that was filled with different coloured bars. Each was reading out a DNA structure. Right smack in the middle of the monitor was a fingerprint. Helena's.
The one the police was using to say that she had killed Falco.
Barbara Gordon lifted her soda up to her mouth and took a quick sip. She was tired and her body ached. She had been starting at the same set of screens for almost four hours. There wasn't a single part of her that didn't believe that her young charge was innocent but she lacked the evidence to prove it.
Which meant that there was more work to be done.
Helena was her family, practically her daughter. She wasn't about to give up on her. No matter what.
She heard a loud wail and then several beeps. She spun towards the comm board. "What's up?" she asked as she opened the line.
"Just checking in on Nancy Drew central," Helena chirped, sounding like she was in a much better mood. Well that was good. Helena in a negative mood was always bad. It was what had started this whole mess.
Among other things.
It had been such a long time ago and Barbara Gordon might have even forgotten about it if not for Falco's sudden murder. She certainly wanted to.
Those had been bad times. Perhaps the word bad simply wasn't strong enough. Everything had been falling apart. Days, even weeks had gone by without her seeing Helena. Barbara had spent entirely too much time locked away in the solitude of the Clocktower with only Alfred to keep her company.
And the depression had finally settled in.
Big time.
When she had been shot in the back, she had wanted so desperately to sink into the pit of black despair that had been constantly threatening to overtake her. She had wanted to let it. But that hadn't been very possible thanks to Helena.
The scared and angry child had needed someone to keep her sane. She had needed a hand because otherwise she wasn't going to get up again. She had needed family. Barbara had stepped in.
Maybe it had partly been for herself so that she had something to keep her mind off of her own pain and anguish. Her body had been in agony and she had barely been able to lift her head but she had had herself a mission, to help Helena. Mostly though it had been because of the need to carry on Bruce's work. Even through his daughter. That work of course had become so much more important.
And because of that, she had gotten through the worst time in her life and she believed that she had helped Helena through hers.
That was of course until Helena had found out that Barbara had been holding back on her. The anger had been sudden and unfocused and she had begun to spin like a goddamn circus wheel. Their bond of trust had been shattered into so many pieces of small fragile glass.
Their fights had been many until it had looked like they would never recover. Helena had moved out and made her intentions clear; she wasn't coming back.
And Barbara had begun to sink.
"Barbara?" Helena said suddenly, drawing the former Batgirl back to the present. "Hello?"
"Sorry, sorry," Barbara said quickly. "I guess I drifted."
"I'll say. And thanks for doing it while I'm on the phone," Helena cracked. She heard a thud in the background.
"What was that?" Barbara asked with alarm. She ran her fingers through her tangled red hair and sighed. She needed a shower. Badly.
"Dinah hitting the.hang on.ground." There was another thud and then a laugh.
"Are you wrestling?" Barbara asked, with a hint of amusement. She supposed that she could be irritated. After all, they were clearly enjoying themselves while she was slaving away in front of her computer trying to clear Helena of murder. She would have been very justified indeed if she has been pissed as all hell.
But she wasn't.
In fact she found herself to be more than a little relieved to hear the mirth from the two girls. Helena was only twenty-three and Dinah was just sixteen. Too much pain could drag you to a very bad place. Helena was intimate with that place now so the idea that she had broken free of it was a great relief indeed.
"Yes," Helena admitted just before there was another thud. "She's a scrapper."
"Glad to hear it. And no, I haven't found anything yet."
"Hey wait," Helena called out to Dinah. She coughed to clear her throat. "Look, get some sleep. This thing will still be there in the morning."
"I can't," Barbara admitted. "It worries me."
There was a long uncomfortable pause and then Barbara heard the sound of scuffing. Like Helena was moving between rooms. "Hey," Helena said, her voice very soft. "I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"Don't be like that," Helena admonished. "I was a monster to you and you never held me responsible."
"It's the past," Barbara insisted.
"It's obviously not," Helena replied. "Somehow or another, this thing has come back to get me. Some come on, let me get this out."
"You really don't need to," Barbara replied, her voice very low. There was simply too much pain in this conversation. Not necessarily bad feelings but definitely hurt ones.
On the day when Helena had stormed out of the Clocktower, she had felt like she was about to collapse. Her legs were already useless but she had never felt pain like she had in those moments. It had been true horror.
Helena let out an impatient sigh. "You're a saint, Barbara. You're not this much. I know you were seriously pissed off at me. I know I let you down."
"We've gotten over that," Barbara replied.
"Why are you doing this?" Helena snapped. She took a deep breath. Getting pissed off at the person you were trying to apologize to was never the right way to get anything done.
"I just think that this is better left in the past."
"Fine, then let me be selfish," Helena begged. "Let me apologize for myself. I was terrible. I treated you horribly." There was a pause. "After my mom, you've been the only other person who has always believed in me. We were a family and I walked out on us."
"You were angry," Barbara said softly.
"I know I was. That's no excuse but you let me right back in. Why?"
"Because we're family. You said it yourself. Family fights."
"That's it?"
"That's it. You always think that I saved you. You have no idea how much you saved me."
Silence hung in the air between them for several long moments.
"Okay," Helena said finally, her voice nearly choked with emotion. "Okay. Get some sleep, okay? Please. I'll be fine in the morning. Unless Reese changes his mind, I'll still be here in the morning."
"Sure," Barbara said, finally relenting. Her body hurt enough that the idea of hitting her sheets wasn't totally unacceptable. Not to mention being mentally worn down. Sometimes a trip down memory lane was no fun at all.
Helena touched her ear. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight," Barbara replied.
*****
He leafed through the files, his fingers repeatedly catching against the rough paper edges. He even had the cuts to show for it. Five hours of staring at the same case file and he was still coming up empty.
He believed her. Helena Kyle had not murdered Falco. But someone sure as hell wanted the police to think she had. Someone had an axe to grind and they meant for Helena to rot in a prison cell because of it.
"You should get some rest," McNally said, coming up from behind him. "We'll get this crazy chick eventually."
"Sure," Reese muttered. Then he looked up. "Does it both you how much manpower we're putting in to catching whoever offed this prick?"
McNally lifted an eyebrow. "This doesn't sound like you. You're Mr. By The Book or Not At All. Something bugging you?"
"What can I say? I'm not much for guys who beat on women," Reese said dryly.
"None of us are but he's still dead and we have to find out who killed them. And if his ex did it, then she has to pay for it."
"Hasn't she already paid for being his ex?"
"That was her choice, Reese."
"And you never make bad choices?"
"Why do I get the feeling that this is personal for you? Because you know better than that."
Reese nodded slowly. "I know, I know. And it's not. You know, just a lot of crazy things on my mind. That's all."
"Right. Okay. That had better be all."
"It is," Reese assured him. "Go home."
"I'm out. You get some sleep. Don't let this get to you."
"Sure," Reese promised. He waited until McNally had left the room and then opened one of the files. Inside was the picture of Helena that had been taken on the day of the beating. "Too late," he muttered. "Way too late."
TBC.
She turned slightly, just enough to examine another screen that was filled with different coloured bars. Each was reading out a DNA structure. Right smack in the middle of the monitor was a fingerprint. Helena's.
The one the police was using to say that she had killed Falco.
Barbara Gordon lifted her soda up to her mouth and took a quick sip. She was tired and her body ached. She had been starting at the same set of screens for almost four hours. There wasn't a single part of her that didn't believe that her young charge was innocent but she lacked the evidence to prove it.
Which meant that there was more work to be done.
Helena was her family, practically her daughter. She wasn't about to give up on her. No matter what.
She heard a loud wail and then several beeps. She spun towards the comm board. "What's up?" she asked as she opened the line.
"Just checking in on Nancy Drew central," Helena chirped, sounding like she was in a much better mood. Well that was good. Helena in a negative mood was always bad. It was what had started this whole mess.
Among other things.
It had been such a long time ago and Barbara Gordon might have even forgotten about it if not for Falco's sudden murder. She certainly wanted to.
Those had been bad times. Perhaps the word bad simply wasn't strong enough. Everything had been falling apart. Days, even weeks had gone by without her seeing Helena. Barbara had spent entirely too much time locked away in the solitude of the Clocktower with only Alfred to keep her company.
And the depression had finally settled in.
Big time.
When she had been shot in the back, she had wanted so desperately to sink into the pit of black despair that had been constantly threatening to overtake her. She had wanted to let it. But that hadn't been very possible thanks to Helena.
The scared and angry child had needed someone to keep her sane. She had needed a hand because otherwise she wasn't going to get up again. She had needed family. Barbara had stepped in.
Maybe it had partly been for herself so that she had something to keep her mind off of her own pain and anguish. Her body had been in agony and she had barely been able to lift her head but she had had herself a mission, to help Helena. Mostly though it had been because of the need to carry on Bruce's work. Even through his daughter. That work of course had become so much more important.
And because of that, she had gotten through the worst time in her life and she believed that she had helped Helena through hers.
That was of course until Helena had found out that Barbara had been holding back on her. The anger had been sudden and unfocused and she had begun to spin like a goddamn circus wheel. Their bond of trust had been shattered into so many pieces of small fragile glass.
Their fights had been many until it had looked like they would never recover. Helena had moved out and made her intentions clear; she wasn't coming back.
And Barbara had begun to sink.
"Barbara?" Helena said suddenly, drawing the former Batgirl back to the present. "Hello?"
"Sorry, sorry," Barbara said quickly. "I guess I drifted."
"I'll say. And thanks for doing it while I'm on the phone," Helena cracked. She heard a thud in the background.
"What was that?" Barbara asked with alarm. She ran her fingers through her tangled red hair and sighed. She needed a shower. Badly.
"Dinah hitting the.hang on.ground." There was another thud and then a laugh.
"Are you wrestling?" Barbara asked, with a hint of amusement. She supposed that she could be irritated. After all, they were clearly enjoying themselves while she was slaving away in front of her computer trying to clear Helena of murder. She would have been very justified indeed if she has been pissed as all hell.
But she wasn't.
In fact she found herself to be more than a little relieved to hear the mirth from the two girls. Helena was only twenty-three and Dinah was just sixteen. Too much pain could drag you to a very bad place. Helena was intimate with that place now so the idea that she had broken free of it was a great relief indeed.
"Yes," Helena admitted just before there was another thud. "She's a scrapper."
"Glad to hear it. And no, I haven't found anything yet."
"Hey wait," Helena called out to Dinah. She coughed to clear her throat. "Look, get some sleep. This thing will still be there in the morning."
"I can't," Barbara admitted. "It worries me."
There was a long uncomfortable pause and then Barbara heard the sound of scuffing. Like Helena was moving between rooms. "Hey," Helena said, her voice very soft. "I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"Don't be like that," Helena admonished. "I was a monster to you and you never held me responsible."
"It's the past," Barbara insisted.
"It's obviously not," Helena replied. "Somehow or another, this thing has come back to get me. Some come on, let me get this out."
"You really don't need to," Barbara replied, her voice very low. There was simply too much pain in this conversation. Not necessarily bad feelings but definitely hurt ones.
On the day when Helena had stormed out of the Clocktower, she had felt like she was about to collapse. Her legs were already useless but she had never felt pain like she had in those moments. It had been true horror.
Helena let out an impatient sigh. "You're a saint, Barbara. You're not this much. I know you were seriously pissed off at me. I know I let you down."
"We've gotten over that," Barbara replied.
"Why are you doing this?" Helena snapped. She took a deep breath. Getting pissed off at the person you were trying to apologize to was never the right way to get anything done.
"I just think that this is better left in the past."
"Fine, then let me be selfish," Helena begged. "Let me apologize for myself. I was terrible. I treated you horribly." There was a pause. "After my mom, you've been the only other person who has always believed in me. We were a family and I walked out on us."
"You were angry," Barbara said softly.
"I know I was. That's no excuse but you let me right back in. Why?"
"Because we're family. You said it yourself. Family fights."
"That's it?"
"That's it. You always think that I saved you. You have no idea how much you saved me."
Silence hung in the air between them for several long moments.
"Okay," Helena said finally, her voice nearly choked with emotion. "Okay. Get some sleep, okay? Please. I'll be fine in the morning. Unless Reese changes his mind, I'll still be here in the morning."
"Sure," Barbara said, finally relenting. Her body hurt enough that the idea of hitting her sheets wasn't totally unacceptable. Not to mention being mentally worn down. Sometimes a trip down memory lane was no fun at all.
Helena touched her ear. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight," Barbara replied.
*****
He leafed through the files, his fingers repeatedly catching against the rough paper edges. He even had the cuts to show for it. Five hours of staring at the same case file and he was still coming up empty.
He believed her. Helena Kyle had not murdered Falco. But someone sure as hell wanted the police to think she had. Someone had an axe to grind and they meant for Helena to rot in a prison cell because of it.
"You should get some rest," McNally said, coming up from behind him. "We'll get this crazy chick eventually."
"Sure," Reese muttered. Then he looked up. "Does it both you how much manpower we're putting in to catching whoever offed this prick?"
McNally lifted an eyebrow. "This doesn't sound like you. You're Mr. By The Book or Not At All. Something bugging you?"
"What can I say? I'm not much for guys who beat on women," Reese said dryly.
"None of us are but he's still dead and we have to find out who killed them. And if his ex did it, then she has to pay for it."
"Hasn't she already paid for being his ex?"
"That was her choice, Reese."
"And you never make bad choices?"
"Why do I get the feeling that this is personal for you? Because you know better than that."
Reese nodded slowly. "I know, I know. And it's not. You know, just a lot of crazy things on my mind. That's all."
"Right. Okay. That had better be all."
"It is," Reese assured him. "Go home."
"I'm out. You get some sleep. Don't let this get to you."
"Sure," Reese promised. He waited until McNally had left the room and then opened one of the files. Inside was the picture of Helena that had been taken on the day of the beating. "Too late," he muttered. "Way too late."
TBC.